Remembering

‘Roseberry Topping’ … WHB: Pen 1981

Tell me stories,
Sing me hymns.
As I remember
Let me weep.

Time is passing,
Friends are leaving,
Do I want
More hours to keep.

Midst purple heather,
Bracken brown,
Grass close cut
By hillside sheep.

Blue bells ring,
Rose berries ripen,
Let me lie
Both warm and deep.

Green hills surround
Where I was born;
Let me again
Amongst them sleep.

Flights of Fancy

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Flights of Fancy

 

I’m given to flights of fancy,
‘Well, fancy that you say! ‘
Walter Mitty Syndrome,
A game that mad minds play.

Imagination rules,
The order of my day.
Stocked with ghosts and phantoms,
Reality at play.

My stories, novels, poems,
Articles and features,
With Ghouls, werewolves and zombies,
They’re bedevilled with such creatures.

– – – – – – – – – –

A mix concocted to bemuse,
Feelings splintered, screams abound,
Shattered dreams and shuttered minds,
Injured hearts, can all be found.

Hatching  out new cans of worms,
Striving for that killer effect.
Daydreams and nightmares have their place,
Even the Plague I resurrect.

So when at last I’ve said and done,
Ended my mini-masterpiece.
I’ll settle back, accept the praise,
Waiting for the press release.