I bought you some flowers today, the idea just popped into my head I had just passed by my old house and was glad I lived here instead. I was lonely in that old place and the vomit rose in my chest as I relived the despair for an instant but soon the pain came to rest. For now I live in happy chaos within a surprising peace for surrounded by love and affection I bask in blessed relief. So there you have the reasons why the idea came into play to stop at the very first florist and bring you flowers today.
Tag: Flowers
New Shed
Alone at last in my garden shed The beds are made the dog is fed In the quiet I await creative thought But comes there nothing, zilch, nought. It's not supposed to be like this I should exploit this place of bliss I take yet another sip of tea but Still no talent envelopes me. The grass is dew wet and wild birds sing Today is warm as if it's spring The flowers nod in the zephyr breeze With apples falling where they please. This is autumn at its best My favourite month - keep the rest Summers gone, it is no more Now squirrels seek their winter store. I try something employed by poets passed To glorify nature! The subject is vast So inspired by the beauty on display The words now flow - I've something to say!
Here and Now
We must enjoy the future The times we have had have gone There's more life behind us now Than is left as we go on. The only reason to be alive Is to make the good times last Just look forward to more happiness And not be a hostage to the past. We got things wrong sometimes But we survived and got to here We sorted the bad bits from the good And know what to cherish or fear. So enjoy every little thing you do Savor the moments as they arise Smell the flowers and hear the birds Accept that life is a beautiful prize.
Strings Attached
He was given a guitar when ten With a book called 'Play in a Day' He learned rock and blues and skiffle Some neighbours moved away. He maintained a daily practice And developed an accomplished skill Got missed by local street gangs And then his mum fell ill. There was just him and a distant aunt At the cemetery near the shop One bunch of flowers on the coffin And a guitar tied on the top. He now was young and rudderless And cried inside without sound His two most valued things in life Were both now in the ground. He fled the council hostel And took to the roads and hills Hid from societies officials And poured Vodka on his ills. A publican in the country Trusted him enough To let him work collecting glasses And give up sleeping rough. Now fifteen, the lonely boy Made the bottle shed his home Slept on an ex-army camp bed No need any more to roam. The whole village knew he was there But told no-one outside They let him come and go at will And quietly felt their pride. One day the village held a sale Selling stuff some folk could spare The vicar saw his longing look At a red guitar hanging there. So proffering money this worthy man Paid the asking price The boy stammered his thanks and ran Lest he showed the tears in his eyes. Alone in the bottle shed it all came back And his fingers found the frets His mum was at his shoulder then And away fell his sadness and regrets. Every moment he wasn't working He played and played yet more Slowly his expertise was great His bleeding fingers sore. He started playing with visiting bands And was held in high esteem People came from miles around And he slowly dared to dream. He saw himself on a rock stage With London as the Hub He would travel widely but his Home would always be the pub. He signed with a management team And travelled near and far He bought the pub and rebuilt it And bought a shinny yellow car. The saloon bar was crowded One foggy Friday night When down the lane came a car With a flashing bright blue light. The village people filled the church The coffin borne from the car And on top mounted amongst the flowers Was a gleaming red guitar.
Damn Magnolia
It was a large piece of ground, rough but flat he would soon make it green once the savannah stuff grew out it would be the best lawn ever seen. Then the boss of the garden explained that her Granddad had supplied her free a twig of non-descript horticulture which would become a Magnolia tree. This level, easy to maintain urban vista was dealt a stroke of malicious force a devil entered the hilltop garden and it came from an arboreal source. With tears flooding his wind blown face he watched the initial incision and the tamping around the root completed this terrible irrevocable decision. Each time he went to mow* with the straight line urban cut he had to swerve around this twig his book on lawns banged shut. The tree got taller and got much thicker and then grew branches out the sunlight was denied to the ground so all the grass died round about. It just got worse as years went by as the interloper spread needing always to cut round the beast the mower man wanted it dead. Slowly the tree worked a magic and became the accepted face of the green lawn at the garden's summit which really brightened the place. One day pink leafy flowers thrust skywards bursting through a late April snow, overwhelmed the tree hater realised he didn't want the Magnolia to go. * went to mow his meadow
New Beginnings
Here at last in my new garden shed
Dishwasher loaded and Labrador fed
I sit and await creative thought
But comes there nothing – zilch! Nought.
It’s not supposed to be like this
Words should flow in my new found bliss
I sit, think, take another sip of tea
Still no inspiration comes to me.
I try something tested by poets before
Like the joy of opening nature’s door
And infected by the beauty on display
Words start flowing – I’ve something to say.
The grass is dew wet and happy birds sing
In warm sun as if it were spring
Flowers nod in the zephyr breeze
Ripe apples falling where they please.
This is more like it, words start to flow
It becomes clear which way to go
New thoughts arrive now, my brain is fed
By the magical ambience of my new garden shed.
As I See Things 