Gentle Man

I know a very gentle man
who lives across a sea
he's getting quite old now
but continues to inspire me.

His life had a very harsh beginning
while still in his native land
when evil despots invaded
and dealt out pain with a mighty hand.

Some years of terror followed 
he trod in fearful zones
a strapping lively boy became
a frightened, starving, bag of bones.

He later went to a promised place
with others in similar strife
and put his recovering soul to work
and built a better life.

His ready smile and tolerance 
made him many lasting friends
he inspired forgiveness in others
while governments played at amends.

My friend forgives and does not hate,
wishing no man any harm
and always keeps a sleeve rolled down
on blue numbers tattooed on his arm.

February 2005

Tapestry

At the front is the picture
It tells a story or shows a scene
In colours.

Often many hands have toiled
For hours and days uncounted
To keep a record.

This fabric picture is fashioned
For we folk who follow on
To help us learn.

Now turn the tapestry over
See all the thread ends hanging?
In confusion.

Our lives are like a tapestry,
With many threads which hide,
A beautiful and complete vista
If we look on the other side.

Black Salt Sea

Near eleven on a still summer night
I gazed at the ink black tide.
A large bright moon, quite low in the sky
Found Ghosts that were trying to hide.

The water moved like pitch, just warm
Going fastest at the core
The Ghosts were running hard
Toward my home on the distant shore.

For this was the night the spirits came
Rising up from the black, black sea
To strike terror in the heart of one man
And tonight that man was me.

Gone Viral

It's gone for now, the great escape
where time slows and smiles rise,
the boat yard near the water is
distraction for we ageing guys.

But now there is a bug about
which seeks to strike us low,
keep us home watching telly
and there's nowhere else to go.

I will never again take for granted 
a gentle wind on a sunny day,
when the tide is slowly rising
and my boat is under weigh.

Funeral

Do not mourn my passing
For I'm in a better place
My pain is gone, my spirit's free
And the sun is on my face.

Do not cry at my grave site
Only my body is there (or only my ashes are there)
I've taken the path of eternal rest
And my soul can now repair.

Do not weep when thinking of me
I know you were on my side
We must all make this journey
And after all - 
I have only died.

A Blackwater Evening

An incredible sunset in a flat blue sky
A calm stillness to the sea
The moon making an early showing
And its all there for me.

A day spent sailing with winds just right
Is rounded off with this splendour
Though the summer is ending now
I am ready for what winter will render.

The river seems to grasp the sun
As it sinks blazing in the west
The tide turns slowly and falls away
And each bird seeks out its nest.

Following this glorious display
All the sunlight is not yet shed
The sky above my vantage point
Turns to a bright so bright red.

So shepherds will now rejoice
And banish their fears or sorrow
Like us they know today's been good
- and so too will be tomorrow.

September 2014

Work Party

The membership of the river club
met on the jetty as the tide rose.
A cheerful bunch of elderly men
doing maintenance at season's close.

Here the fluky tides hook in
and drop detritus on the beach.
Missing dinghies, bits of wood,
plastic bottles for coke or bleach.

The cheerful banter abruptly stopped
some wondered why the chatter ceased
for there with the flotsam and the junk
was a sodden funeral wreath.

A Gift from the Deserts

I love a warm wind
A friendly summer breeze
It wraps me in optimism
And puts me at ease.

It's so welcome when it comes
To city streets or country lane
To the deck of a heeling boat
Or a crowded beach in Spain.

The warm wind tans our paleness
And our faces take on a glow
Drab clothing is cast away
And stressed pulses begin to slow.

It's the deserts that give up their heat
To the drifting passing air
Which, carried over land and seas
Ensures we get a share.

Lollipop Sticks

This frail girl in my lounge was dying
But so grateful now was she
She had made a gift from lollipop sticks
To express her thanks to me.

She had little else to give away 
But with some sticks and glue
She made a gift quite special
Because her dream came true.

Her last wish was a family break 
In the sun of Spain
And this important moment
Would never come again.

Good people of science had tried
To stem her marauding cells
Even took a limb completely
But still her body swells.

A club of generous men paid
For her and hers to fly
To be together on a distant beach
Before she said goodbye.

How very cruel and senseless
For mean gods to steal
A twelve year old young girl's life
A sentence with no appeal.

At least she had had her wish
Which she craved so much
To lay on a beach with her family
and do without the crutch.

She left behind a little house
made from sticks of wood
A reminder of a chance she gave
to me to do some good.

Rosalind Ward RIP