Imagine

Try to imagine this with me

Quiet your mind, let it roam free

Looking out over a calm blue sea

At a foreign shore where you could be

 

Drift across that peaceful scene

To wave kissed beaches, still pristine

Edged by tall trees in verdant green

No sound but bird song, so serene

 

There, just there, pause and wait

Relish the moment and aspirate

Here where time is more sedate

Open your soul to a higher state

 

A Poor Crop

If my tomato plants could speak

They would surely sing with praise

About the tidy greenhouse

As they enjoy summer days

 

Grow bags lined up precisely

Canes readied for support

Windows open for fresh air

A perfect life in short

 

Why, then, do they bear so little

Of the round and deep red fruit

It offends me and seems selfish

Of that there’s no dispute

 

Each evening I check in on them

Down the winding garden path

But their offerings are so paltry

I think they’re having a laugh

 

My neighbour says they’re dying

But how can he be sure

He says they must need feeding

But, like watering, at that I’m poor

 

A Voyage

I’ve sailed a vast dark ocean

With other random souls

Aboard a metal vessel

Ticking one more of my goals

 

Sea swells fell and lifted slowly

Countless waves rolling past the boat

Blue depths below a mystery

Bright skies beneath we float

 

Time slowed and hid its passing

Flowing gently as a tide

Groundhog day repeated

Date line across our ride

 

Thump-thud the beat of life

In engine room and chest

Moving to the future

Ship sailing from the west

 

It Could be Worse

Despite the fuss on the national news

Last week’s earthquake brought hardly a bruise

Barely enough to make walls shake

But ‘quakes elsewhere, leave deaths in their wake

 

Classed as ‘light’; Richter 4.4

Even more slight than in ’84

When we swept up the kids and ran outside

If the earth moves, there’s nowhere to hide

 

Now, it seems, we’ve another ‘grave’ threat

The ‘beast from the east’, a new cause to fret

A Siberian blast, bringing snow and ice

At -5C, the Beeb says it won’t be nice

 

But some can recall the freeze of ’82

When staying outdoors wasn’t good for you

At -26C, that really was cold

It killed by degrees, especially the old.

A Toast

Come any who might with me dine
Of choicest foods and finer wine
And know full well that down the line
You too must share this cup of mine

Then do not seek to chide thine host
Instead drink deep that final toast
For that you have you forfeit most
Of what remains you cannot boast