Canalside

Deep blue sky, punctuated by cotton ball clouds, murky green water made murkier still by the sun.
Swirling and whirling, a daring crow chases a kestrel away from its nest of fluff and broken eggshell.

Moorhen chicks (black cobweb balls on roller skates) dart to and fro;
Mother watches out for the sharp toothed Pike below.

The palms of green Gunnera hide chalky banks cut back by wintry high waters.
Yellow Flag Iris stands tall amongst reed seed heads (sausages on sticks).

A delicate pink wild rose twines around a drooping elder, stooping to kiss the water.
Fields of golden rape seed flower and remembrance poppy sweep down on either side.

An October Date

We stepped out that day under crisp October skies of blue,

The landscape stretched before us lit by sun;

Trees coloured by autumn’s touch, soft breath hanging in the air,

Fresh, bright, alive we stumbled on to that stage.

Our thoughts whisked up and away,

Twirling in and out of leaves and amongst wood pillars,

Like spirits uttering magic spells.

Holding hands we walk into the wood and marvel at the birdsong,

Delighting in nature’s beauty and in our own closeness.

Stopping to sit on a tree trunk, we reflect on fate, luck or chance

That brought us to this day.  Dare we believe?

We quietly thank the world for finding us here together.

Leaves rustle in a chill breeze stirred up by winter’s approach.

Can we make it through the long dark days to come?

Or, as the leaves die and fall,

And animals consume the nuts and berries,

The landscape barren and bare sleeping under frosty skies,

Will this chance pass by?  Be forgotten, crumble and decay?

Many times we’ve taken the wrong path,

And find ourselves bereft of warmth and understanding.

This life marked half making us wary of mistakes.

But now, today, the wood whispers and nature soothes.

Today, life feels good, creates a buzz within us.

An optimistic haze of anticipation steals over us.

We kiss, passionately praying for a sign.

We need to believe in care, joy and love,

At least for this moment in time.

Poem to stepchildren

It doesn’t matter how I feel

I’m only second in everything.

She holds the key to your heart,

Because she’s your blood mother.

I daren’t believe that you would ever

Call me “Mum”.  All I wanted

Was the chance to be your friend?

The chance to be a family no matter what.

I can’t fight against her strength

Her bloodline to you… You will believe

What she tells you.  I know.

But in the quiet of loneliness

Be sure I’ll always love you

As if you were my own.  When

I met you that’s what you needed

Another mother to step in.

I hope I did OK even though I was unprepared.

I need to know that I made some difference

That I helped build a second family

So you had a choice.

Love those who love you back

Treat those in the same way

You would be treated, and

Forgive her anger, it’s only guilt.

Up the Tor!

It’s a beautiful day…

Clotted cream clouds

Close enough to touch,

Pierced by sun rays

Caressing the moor.

Golden gorse; purple heather;

Fronded green bracken;

Glorious patchworked vista -

Ah Dartmoor!

To the top!

Blow away cobwebs

Of previous aches and pains.

Briskly walking, then scrambling

Over slated pathways

And rocky outcrops

Up the Tor!  Breathe!

Life to Death

I watch my life passing slowly before my eyes

I can remember the past so clearly and wish I was there

Memories are so familiar and warming, yet not then

Only in the past are they welcoming, not in the here and now

The grip on reality is fading now with each sip

Just one action could leave me sinking down and down

To that world of unknown trepidation, the deathly experience

Like the forbidden bite of an apple, leading to peace

What makes us stay, keeps us living in this hell?

Fear of losing power, of letting go of the accepted?

Social rules reign and will forever until Nature takes us

Why wait ‘til then?  Why not take the bite, the power?

Only because we live for loving whilst we’re here

Will we strive for happiness and fight in the face of all

Mill End

Listening to the birds,

The crows in the firs;

Hearing the bubbling stream

As it winds its way down

And under Dogmarsh Bridge.

The great white house

With the churning waterwheel,

Wisteria-clad backyard,

Croquet lawn and flowered borders,

In the walled front garden.

Harry the black Labrador

Who meets and greets

Each visitor with a wag

And a look, as if to say:

“Any food for me today?”

Two friendly felines,

With tortoiseshell fur,

Curled up snail-like

On the lounge sofas,

Quietly purring.

Walks to Chagford and Fingle Bridge

Amongst grazing sheep

And leaping salmon.

This is where I like to be -

At Mill End Hotel.

Nothing left to lose

Your goal of giving to others

Must now take second place

To your need for a sound future,

And your search for a little space.

To live, to work for money;

To support yourself alone;

To improve your chances in life,

And forget what you have known.

Your existence before was miserable -

Now it’s up to you to start

To aim for some improvement,

And find courage in your heart.

Your life goes on regardless,

Many paths from which to choose –

Have strength; be bold, for no matter what,

You have nothing left to lose.