Such is the fate of the timid
That chance will be denied
Scenes of what might have been
Are painted on eyelids, inside
….
Memories that have no past
Faces and places never seen
Hands wanting for the holding
The other side of time’s screen
…
Dreamers know such losses
On nights that last all day
Things that would be different
Had they taken the other way
If the sky was green would the trees feel blue?
If all hearts were sincere, what we say would be true
….
If nature was kinder, there would be fewer storms
If politicians cared more, they would bring about reforms
….
If hate speech was outlawed, there’d be no demagogues
If humans were nicer, we wouldn’t need dogs
….
If the world was perfect, it would be prejudice free
If that is to happen, it’s down to you and me.
Racism is treating people as ‘others’
The opposite of acting like brothers
We are not designed to be the same
Whatever we are, we are not to blame
….
Is it part of the human condition
To want to establish our position
In some imaginary pecking order
‘Us’ versus ‘them’ from a historic border
….
It seems we have an inner need
Looking down on some other creed
To feel a bit better about our lot
Rejecting notions of a mixing pot
….
But assimilation is nature’s way
Differences, ultimately, become passé
Though bigotry and injustice may cause delay
All will be free to be who they are, one day
….
Until then, use well the power to vote
Campaign peacefully, equality promote
Practise humanity, value all life
Have empathy, turn your back on strife
As the dim, slate grey sky of morning creeps from the horizon
Whist birds cling yet to their roosts, waiting permission to sing
Listen carefully in the still air to the sound of dawn breaking
It is as real as you
….
Gentle zephyrs and eddies can be felt as birds and leaves start to stir
A low vibration hums electrically, almost imperceptibly in the air and through the ground
Light is changing, warming, as the first rays of the sun define individual clouds
A new day brings its promise to those who can look, listen and learn.
How often does a duck pay its bill?
Rock is very hard to play
If you sit next to a Pole, the conversation will be a little stiff
Irish express themselves quickly
The water in the well was very heathy
The tips of my fingers feel as hard as nails
When will he write his will?
The gold in the cave is all mine
He used a novel approach to writing
Always season meat in Summer
An amp is the current unit of electrical flow
A net catch doesn’t count the net
I saw him saw the wood
He ended his fast in a hurry
My climber rose to the occasion
Each of us makes our way every day
Spending heartbeats, uncounted confetti
None can be sure of the length of our stay
On paths more knotted than spaghetti
….
Yet many hold their fate to be known
Faith tells them the final destination
This is their choice, their solid keystone
Let’s hope they do find salvation
….
But as countless planets suns’ orbits steer
Through space and invisible matter
What lives such as ours exist elsewhere
Would they, such beliefs, bespatter?
…
Might they argue that lifeforms, capable of morality
Should endeavour to co-exist in peace
Tolerance and respect, not divisive insanity
For the time we hold earth’s lease
Should a rose be thanked for the perfume it wears?
Must a machine be praised for its labour?
Does a mother expect gratitude because she cares?
Would a deity favour its own over a neighbour?
….
If there is but one god, known by different names
Does it make worship a requirement of believing?
Does one faith have its ear, as each proclaims?
Or are religions simply self-deceiving?
Great Britain would hardly be the same
Less its mild sun, wind, snow and rain
All four seasons may come and go
Often in just one day or so
Once again, as often before
Angry waves torment pebbled shore
Streams and river can hold no more
Gorged, they greedily flood and score
….
Boughs and tree tops bend, submit
Dancing, possessed, as some mad fit
Corn lies flat against the ground
Wheat and barley, bent and drowned
….
Wind howls around a shabby cottage
Lichened thatch, now in its dotage
Uneven windows rattle and crash
Climbing roses twist and thrash
….
Smoke struggles up the sooted stack
Puffing and swirling, blowing back
Flickering candles show eddies within
Guttering answers to the banshee din
….
The moon, it seems, races each dark cloud
Revealing weathered hills, stood solid, proud
Brighter still flash exploding bolts
Snapshots with ten thousand volts
….
Lightning shatters an oak asunder
Earth itself quakes with the thunder
Sheets of rain now throw themselves down
On cobbled streets in the nearby town
….
In the cottage, through the open door
A silent shadow peers out in awe
Hears distant rumbles, sees the oak aflame
As, passing, the storm echoes its name
The wise do not wish for dreams to come true
For are not nightmares dreams too?
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