HOME Song Of The Wordsmith

Just one picture can show us - They speak the saw quite pat - What a thousand words cannot, but They need words to say that! Scenes burst out from the canvas. You need words to tell it slow, And plant the seed inside the mind. You need words to see it grow. You need words to say, Good Morning, At the start of a new day, You need words of cheer and comfort, To help you on your way. In every hour throughout your life, And any place you go, You need words to tell them who you are, You need words to say, Hello. You need words to build your dreams up, And make castles in the air, So when they're written on the page, The dream will seem as fair. And when the book is broken, And the pages torn to shreds, You need words to put your ideas Into other people's heads. You need words to say, I love you, You need words to speak desire, You need words to stoke the furnace, You need words to fan the fire. You need words to say you're sorry, When pointed words cause pain, You need words to soothe the sadness, And to build up hope again. You need words to know what people thought, And spoke of long ago, And if that's not pure magic, then I'm sure that I don't know! For words will last forever, From the first words ever said, Into the mists of age, itself, To the days when we are dead.

Doubt

Words run away from me. Thoughts are no longer clear. The truth seems far beyond my reach – What am I doing here? The world is all alien. I don’t know what to do. Life’s incomprehensible – Is reality showing through?

Writing In A Vacuum

All those nights of candlelight,   That made my eyelids blink, When Prose was food, both bad and good,   And Poetry was drink. Then those years of hopes and fears -   Would I fail or do? Birth by desire, conceived in fire,   To bring out what was true. Now time has passed, until, at last,   There is no thought to please. Creation still provides the thrill,   Though no one ever sees.

Don't Go Out By Moonlight

Don't go out by moonlight, When the moon is shining strong, For Jack O'Lantern flits the fields And he will lead you wrong. There is no gap and no escape, For ever you'll remain. Don't go out by moonlight, Or you'll not come home again. Don't go out by moonlight, Lest you tread unhallowed ground, And ghouls come crawling from their graves, And hem you all around. And then you'll have to join them, In fear and trembling dread. Don't go out by moonlight — It's the daytime of the dead. Don't go out by moonlight, For that's when shadows stalk, When vampires prowl and werewolves howl, And living nightmares walk. For in a world that's back to front, A one may die of fright. Don't go out by moonlight — You'll meet the people of the night.

Around And Around

What can you write? What can't you write? It's useless to begin. Whatever you say, someone has said, someone will say again. A new way of saying things? Alas, there isn't one - See Chapter 1, Verse 9, Ecclesiastes "There's nothing new under the sun." Distil your thoughts, what do you get ? Something to put on a shelf where no one goes, for some would say that poetry is talking to yourself. Under the barrage of clichés, beneath the torrent of words, memory grows less and less, of the things that used to be once, of the things that must have been once, in a world of quietness.

I Went To Visit Yesterday

I went to visit Yesterday - (I come from there, you know. It didn't seem so far away And not so long ago). I set my soul for where it lay, I crossed its seas and streams; I went to search for Yesterday Upon the ship of dreams. I thought that I remembered The bricks of hopes and fears, But found the wall dismembered By the claws of passing years. I scanned my map of where it lay, The pages of past fate, I looked around for Yesterday But all was desolate! And all in memory that survive - All the fragments that will last - The smallest clearings that still trive In the jungle of the past, The still heat of a summer day, The smell so near of earth, Are all that's left of Yesterday That place the soul had birth.

Bon Voyage

O Breath-of-the rose, O Stars-in-the-night, O Dew-on-the-morning-grass, O Soul-of-my-self, O Source-of-the-light - Why did you have to pass? Day to night and night to day, Why would there be an end? But you grew up and went away - Bon Voyage, my friend, Oh, Bon Voyage, my friend! No grass so sweet, no air so pure Than the land from which you grow. Safe, secure, forever sure, You don't need to know. But Paradise was not enough And you would not pretend. The grass in your mind was greener stuff - Bon Voyage, my friend, Oh, Bon Voyage, my friend! The mind says home is where you live, The heart does not think so. For life is more than just yourself, And home is where you go. And so my heart has followed you Where ever you may wend - To the Land of Gold or the Land of Old - Bon Voyage, my friend, Oh, Bon Voyage, my friend!

A Card For Catherine

Cards can be so boring and sometimes quite absurd - Talking to someone you know with someone else's words! They don't say what I think, nor feel how I feel. They don't know and they don't care for what is true and real. They don't hear the silent thought, the wish they cannot see, But you know and I know you know, and that's how it should be. This card is not for millions, nor old, it's made brand new - Let others buy them at the shops - this card is just for you!

Questions

Questions, questions, questions - they fill the mind like snow. Lost in the question storm, we don't know where to go. Answers lead to more questions- surely we should see There is no final answer. Why can't we let them be? Why are we existing and have we got a task? Do we know anything at all? Why do we ask?

The Cyberland Of Youth

Where have all the cartoons gone, that live in memory yet, When my father trawled through Mutt and Jeff to try to find a bet. Before the death of Innocence, before the birth of Truth, They took the pixel-liner to The Cyberland Of Youth. Where is Orphan Annie now, and Little Nemo, too? They didn't seem so far away when life, itself, was new, When leaves were green and skies were blue, and ventures made to suit. They've gone to their retirement in The Cyberland Of Youth. I remember good ol' Charlie, when entrance was not barred To the days of dogs and sunshine in America's back yard. Charles Schultz has passed away, where all their lives had root, But I know that Snoopy still lives in The Cyberland Of Youth. I thought them made of flesh and blood, not people made of ink, Before my growing older had worn away the link. I have forgotten some of them, but, stashed away, like loot, I know that I can find them in The Cyberland Of Youth.

Penny Poem

What will you give me for my rhyme? What will you pay me for my time? You want smoothly-polished themes, I have but odd thoughts and dreams. You talk of money and of years, I think of blood and sweat and tears. Who I am and where I'm at - How much will you pay for that? What reward for all my verse, Only a coffin and a hearse. Here I write it, line by line, And I sign it - this is mine!

Definitions Of Death

Death is not inhospitable, He does not say - Enough! No more! - Death always has a welcome. Death is an open door. Death has no pretensions, He knows nothing of war and strife, Of hunger and desperation - Death is the other side of life. Death will ask no questions, Who you were or what you had. Death is the equaliser - And the end of good and bad. Death waits at the end of the roadway, The landlord, somberly dressed. His is the final lodging house, His bed gives the longest rest.