The sad Tale of Walter Giles Merriweather

"quick into the coal hole under the stairs
we'll not tarry as destruction prepares
we've got twelve seconds there's no time to lose
it's life or death and up to you to choose"
huddled together with nowhere to sit
there goes our house it took a direct hit
falling masonry and glass as it shatters
but we're all alive that's really what matters"
Maud and her Kids went to live with a friend
loyal to the cause right down to the end
She was a rock her faith didn't falter
ordered her friends "don't ever tell Walter!"
but word got over to Walter in France
after the Allies had made their advance
Walter came home on compassionate leave
saw his home and he just could not believe
Maud consoled him as she spoke through her tears
"war's about over leave behind your fears"
what precious time he could now spend with Maud
forgetting Operation Overlord
Walter was happy Maud was still his rock
they all went to live in a tower block
war near it's end the Children could play
the happy sun went down sooner each day
when the grass was green and the sky was blue
Maud knew this was just too good to be true
then Officers came knocking at the door
over in Antwerp the Generals need more
"Gerry's last stand" final all out attack
Maud knew in her heart he wouldn't come back
Walter says he'll soon be back at the Forge
then Maud gets a telegram from King George
the Postboy was  the messenger of doom
the Children ran crying up to their room
reading the letter confirmed their worst fears
huddled as one in a cradle of tears
the letter ran with such sickening dread
"deeply regret to inform you" it said
those same flying bombs in Antwerp did land
and took Walter's life in "Gerry's last stand"
Maud was left to raise the Kids on her own
She worked Her fingers right down to the bone
for Maud that was a great load to carry
determined she would never re-marry
Walter was always the love of her heart
that was the way it was right from the start
she sings  a song every now and then
saying someday they will meet again
Firstborn wanted to join the Army too
He was just like his Father through and through
"listen my lad, when all is said and done
they took your Father, they wont take my son!"

The obvious irony is, that if word didn't get back to Walter Giles Merriweather (not real name) he no doubt would have stayed in France and would have survived the war. His Son, Les (real name), a customer of mine, did actually join the R.A.F strictly against his Mother's wishes but survived and is now seventy seven years old. His address has been withheld as he doesn't want to be descended upon by hundreds of delirious Blogfans!



Ode to Sheep

sheep don't have any opinions
as they nibble away at the grass
sheep don't have any barriers
yet they all stick together en mass

sheep always follow direction
oblivious to every event
sheep never charge at the enemy
ranks never broken by dissent

sheep always know who is their Shepherd
and follow him wherever he goes
sheep never fight and kill each other
sheep never have any foes

sheep just need security and care
they are not belligerent or proud
sheep have respect for authority
pity humans aren't that way endowed.

The setting for this was watching some sheep while leaning on a wall, trouble was I was beginning to act a bit like them so I thought it was time I moved on!

Where Poems lie

The hills breathe verselets high and low
in jigsaw lochans of liquid sky
lure me back to where I want to go
back to the land where poems lie

clouds turn mountains into words
that sing unto the morning sky
and a faintly scattered beach of birds
call out to me where poems lie

four seasons lie forever stranded
await some verse to unlock the spry
in a song that never ended
in beautiful land where poems lie

the setting sun says that all is well
as rhythmic rivers join the cry
of pounding waves of sand and shell
in the 'Motherland' ... where poems lie!

The Big Grey One


a game of chess sat by the window
a sacred horror too lofty to admire
bare bones of creation stand reverent and silent
the mountains are waiting for someone to inspire

but all people are so far away
as clouds foxtrot into your hiding places
restrain the sunrise and damn up the thunder
frightful memories on contorted faces

tapestry of a solitary resonance
echoes of frightful remembrance at hand
silent water flows like half remembered dreams
bequeathed to the heartbeat of the land

opening a window your not supposed to see through
shadows of the present hurl themselves into the past
the wind screams madness at your cryptic silence
smirking as if you know it wont last

how come you can't move yet you can dance?
Or drink from the fountains of an iron grey sky
or give a litany of smiles as if you care
You  know you can't move and you know you can't die!

the mountains are waiting...

Driving through the Torridon mountains in Wester Ross early one April morning, we were mesmerised by the quality of light and the imposing bulk of Liathach ( gaelic- the big grey one) . Photography didn't capture it, I can't paint so I tried with words. . . well at least I tried.

On spotting the first Brimstone of Spring

a heartbeat flight on fragile wings
like seeing Northern Lights in daytime
gold streaks the sky as the Brimstone swings
a childhood dream in the sunshine

sipping sugar from luscious flowers
where the Lillies and the Violets meet
or chasing Bees in shady bowers
gracefully poised from my window seat

Brimstone asked Rose if she cared to dance
fell in love with a flower so sweet
clearly Rose was not in for romance
" you flutter on by just far too fleet "

"I'll dance on one proviso of mine
being so stately I observe all things
when you learn to fly in a straight line
we'll dance as the Nightingale sings!"


Playtime

down in the playground the children play
and show us the state of our decay
express their anger with might of man
and so lose the race they never ran
Teachers try to explain what went wrong
over the din of a football song
peace in the playground but it wont last
they have no future they have no past
Headmaster calls order on the spot
childhood is over but playtime's not!




The strange tale of Gelert and the Prince (proverbs 14:29)

young Prince Llewlyn loved all of his hounds
but it was Gelert that he loved the most
his love for his dogs was said knew no bounds
but twas only of Gelert he would boast
Gelert was loyal

the Prince had a palace in the Shire
of hunting dogs he had oh so many
Llewyn was a real high flier
but dogs like Gelert there wasn't any
Gelert was loyal

the Prince blew his horn the Dogs assembled
it was hunting that  the Dogs loved the best
like a pack of Wolves the Dogs resembled
but the Hounds were at the Prince's behest

one day Gelert was nowhere to be seen
he stayed at home to look after the child
what happened next just could not be foreseen
on seeing Gelert the Prince went wild

Gelert waited for his Master's embrace
though Prince Llewlyn was shocked to the core
Gelert he had blood all over his face
Llewlyn's child lay dead on the floor

the Prince had a quick temper it was said
Gelert's sin was far worse than lying
out with his sword and off with his head
and then he heard his baby start crying

the Prince hugged his child in sweet relief
his breath returned and he became warmer
he returned his sword straight back in it's sheath
then he saw a dead Wolf in the corner!

Llewlyn broke down and started to cry
buried Gelert outside the castle grounds
visible grave to every passer by
wisdom of quelling your temper resounds

 Gelert was loyal.

Thousands of people visit Beddgelert (literally grave of Gelert in Welsh) every year in North West Wales.




Stop!

the sign said 'Stop' but I carried on
there were no Policemen around

the light was 'Red' but I went through
there wasn't anybody watching

the sign said '30' but I did '40'
there was only me in the car

the sign said 'no left turn' but I ignored it
there were no cameras

the sign said 'one way' but I drove down it
no one could see me...

or could they?

not sure if these photos are everyones cup of Earl Grey

www. ( The World Wide Web )

humans are unable to see
the web I weave so carefully
designed to hook, catch and deceive
entangled in the web I weave

ignorant bliss is in your eyes
when you're caught in my web of lies
a world distracted with it's science
shun all loyalties compliance

you think you have your strength in numbers
but underestimate your blunders
web of facts the truth is strangled
mankind is happily entangled

quiet corner starts construction
crafty in it's cool induction
"fancy a meaty aphid pie?
Come now fly time to say goodbye"

organised rebellion on eight legs
somebody pulled out your tent pegs
head to head with the 'Decider'
destroy the web destroy the Spider

You were in the middle of the web
when your world began to ebb
Spider you will lose your crown
when your world comes crashing down.

For You

your Mum changed your nappies
your Dad sang you lullabies
they did it for you

did you hear the Birds singing this morning
it was a cacophony of sound
they were singing for you

your Dad fought your corner at school
your Mum helped you with your homework
they did it for you

did you smell the Roses today
it was a delightful fragrance
that fragrance was for you

did your wife cook you a wonderful meal today
she knew it was your favourite
she cooked it for you

there was a stunning sunrise this morning
did you see it
it was there for YOU!

In High Places

look down from in high places
peaks slope down to the ground
lochans hide where the shade is
without a sound

arms of rock glide to the sea
granite tops point to the sky
craggy ramparts lingering
without a sigh

scree slopes onward cascading
like Ambrosia's hair
wind is switching and gusting
without a care

meandering through the glen
twisting ribbons of light
boulders slope down off the Ben
without a fight

look down from in high places
walk in silvering air
I can't roam empty spaces
without You there.

A Stroll

" hey Mark where do you think you're going? "
" I'm just going for a stroll, only up the hills at the back of the lodge"

I was soon looking down on the patchwork of Inverbroom's farms
everything had a neat simplicity to it
on the horizon the mountains whisper secrets
fragments of music play on my mind like a CD player set on random
fleeting visions of deserted memories long forgotten are somehow accessed on the 'hard drive' of my mind
as I walk around this ampitheater for a while it feels like my brain is resetting itself

after a knee jerking descent I decide to have a stroll along the river
I engage my mind to it's meanderings
life is like a river with all it's twists and turns
a poetic surrealism superimposed itself over the glen
the hills at the back of the lodge now seem so far away
yet everything seems to be connected
in life's journey it is similar, everything is connected by memories
all it's twists and turns
it occurred to me that happy times of the past can cushion the blows of sad times in the future
this encouraged me to discover things that I already knew!
even everyday mundane things can be given meaning and beauty
many new thoughts were planted and were waiting to be explored

overhead an Eagle quarters over an allegorical landscape
as I returned to the Lodge more people ask me where I've been
I reply, I've just been for ... a stroll.

_ _ _ _ / _ _ / _ _ _ _ _

"You don't eat butter and you're not a fly
please tell me your name don't just flutter by"
"you called me Butterfly,  that was so wrong
now you'll never know the words of my song.
people want to know things that are hidden
I know of two who sought things forbidden
one plucked some strange fruit and said 'take your fill'
and from there things went slowly downhill
so the summers have come and the summers have gone
you can't know my name it's a beautiful one
as an Angel's wings fly higher and higher
if I told you, you would surely expire
the mystery of my name goes on and on
I can't tell you my name it's a wonderful one!"



The Boatman

I asked a Fisherman on the shore
if he had seen my dear Boatman
he just laughed at me then laughed some more
"there is no loyalty in that clan!"

I asked a Shopkeeper on the front
if he had seen my beloved one
his ridicule was harsh and blunt
"loyalty with that crowd, there is none!"

I climbed on top of the highest rock
in hope I could see my one so fair
I'll die like a lone Swan on a loch
If he wont bring me a ring to wear

I'll wait no matter how long you take
I pray you'll come in with the tide
without you I know my heart would break
those things they said, I know they lied

nobody will take my love from you
our bond is like the sea and sand
I yearn to see your eyes so blue
when you return safe and take my hand

ring on my finger we'll not tarry
you will take me to a far off place
far away from them we will marry
and wipe the smirk off that Fisherman's face!

Believe it or not this is a true story! Loosely based on the beautiful Scottish folk ballad 'fhir a bhata' that tells of  a man who left his beloved  on the Isle of Lewis to secure some real estate. And yes he did return faithfully and they married.

Abandon

the gale abandoned it's storm
the sun abandoned it's fields
the sea abandoned the beach
the Man abandoned his Wife
but the storm picked up again
and the sun once again shone over the fields
so too the sea returned to cover the sand
and the Man returned to his Wife
because a Man should never abandon his Wife!

The Mirror

sky so blue
splendid view
looks so new
morning dew
mountains brown
looking down
all around
is their crown
plinth of green
so serene
submarine
lies between
carved out loch
in the rock
in the rock
carved out loch
lies between
submarine
so serene
plinth of green
is their crown
all around
looking down
mountains brown
morning dew
looks so new
splendid view
sky so blue

Achnahaird

bathed in coral affections of infinite dawns and sunsets
a chanced upon corner of Wester Ross
such an enchanting place
it seems you have the sun all to yourself

empty
beautiful
lonely
wild
free

eyes are drawn hungrily to a vast sweep of perfect golden sand
entranced waves flicker half heartedly on to the beach
stroking the shoreline in seamless breaths
the gentle rolling hills
imbibe an outpouring of sweetness
from the throbbing motion of the sea.
The bigger hills line the horizon
like retired heroes in endless sleep.
Fenceless fields remind you that you are free,
free as the wind
that gusts over the moor, unhindered
in Wester Ross's forgotten charm

broody
alluring
enticing
peaceful...

always peaceful.

I would love to just sit here and read a book
but I think I'd rather be immersed in this compassionate land and write a poem!

The Laburnum Tree

patterned tendrils swaying in the breeze
drooping clusters of Laburnum trees
cascade in silence of nature's art
chains of yellow Jewell's that touch the heart
perfectly poised on all your ledges
lilac is peeping along your edges
trailing poetry of captured beauty
love of nature is not mere duty
I asked why, in the middle of June
does your glory disappear so soon
pebbles of raindrops slide freely away
the Great Artist said "I'll tell you one day!"

I was walking down Nettleham Road in Lincoln one spring morning and was absolutely transfixed by this beautiful Laburnum tree. I scribbled down a few words and shaped them up when I got home. Can't find any etymology on it but Laburnum is clearly a Latin word.

Benediction

I like...
May mornings,
when the birds inflict their beautiful dawn chorus on us
it both interacts with and complements your slumber
then for no apparent reason it suddenly stops

I like...
seeing the mist roll in from the sea
and spread itself over the moor like a mantle
it destroys all navigational awareness
yet reaches other senses within us that perceive beauty

I like...
to see big woolly snowflakes float down from a silent sky
then in a matter of minutes
the white disguise of silence beautifies everything it touches
and everybody's garden is as tidy as everyone elses

I like
to see knuckles of houses line secluded bays
clinging on to the rocks
with grim determination
as if their very lives depended on it

I know
the birds will sing again
and the sun will shine through curtained showers
making the stones on the beach
shine with unmitigated brightness.

And the future will purr like a Cat!

Request slot...for Nicky

Fast Ford

our friend Nix is never bored
because she married Fast Ford
when they met back at school
she knew he was no fool
and now he's her Husband and Lord

our friend Nix is never sad
because Fast Ford's a good lad
when Nix has a bad back
F.F takes up the slack
so 'home sweet home' is their pad

Nix does cross stitch and purl
her dresses are all of a swirl
she'll always be looked after
with love, wine and laughter
no-one smiles like a sparkle girl

would love to hear your comments


love et all and KTDA, Markles.