Monday, 29 December 2008

Home from Home

This is my old AOL journal and I have neglected it shamefully.
I now give it a header that will speak more eloquently for the contents than this entry ever could.

Tuesday, 30 September 2008


Let every footstep you take

                                          carry you to the next

Let every footstep you take

                                          lead you to the next

Let every footstep you take,

                                           hold you safely

                                                                      so you may look carefully

For the next  

                       Footstep to take. 



It can save you from a false step

It was written and composed by genius

Step in the footfalls of genius and you will not fall

WALK TALL my friends



walk on and I will always walk beside you

Together we will win for truth, loyalty, faith, hope and above all LOVE


Sunday, 28 September 2008

Rhythm and Rhyme in Reason

I see the oak is undressing for the night,

   Soon a riot of colour will race through the air,

   Yet none will rival the feathers I wear,

And the simple song in white,

For a fleeting moment the water will carry

   Every possible hue and shade,

   Autumn invites all to her parade,

When sun and moon marry.


The earth will sing of long summer days,

   And bring to the wedding feast

   The most that will always be the least,

For she is well versed in nature’s ways,

The water will ring my silent song,

   Listen and you will surely see

   Musical waves surrounding me,

Now here is where I belong.


Look and you will surely hear,

   Waves of light on a passing melody,

   That once was played by an old oak tree,

Time now brings the music near,

The water dances and echoes the sound,

   My shadow sings in her domain,

   Like day and night I shall remain,

Reflecting rhythms that abound.

Saturday, 27 September 2008


Image credit ROB

She stood silent in the doorway,

Uncertain whether to enter,

Or leave whether to go or stay,

Why had she come? What had sent her?

The weary sun sinks in the sky,

Clouds escorting him are leant a

Royal robe and parade on by,

A large flock of geese homeward bound,

Call to each other as they fly,

Eagerly sing their joyous sound.

It is all still as she recalled,

From the old faded blue front door,

To the garden ordered and walled,

Many years spent looking for more,

Had drawn her to lands far away,

Angry words spoken in haste saw,

Her not return until today,

Wealthier but poorer and sad,

The price too high she’d had to pay,

She calls, ‘It’s me. I’ve come home Dad.’

Music drifts on the evening air,

A crane fly dances in the night,

She can only listen and stare,

As it weaves in and out of light,

And seems to interpret the mood,

Of the melody and her fight,

And the loss of the love she rued,

It brushes gently on her jaw,

And she with new calm is imbued,

Then it flies through the open door.


I wrote this many months ago after listening to John Barry's 'Eternal Echoes'. Last night a crane fly danced around a picture in my lounge and gave me the photographs to illustrate the words that the track 'Returning Home' had inspired.

I hope the photographs don't upset anyone, I caught the fly in a glass very carefully and set it free in my garden. I don't have a lawn so I rarely get them in the house thankfully!

Friday, 26 September 2008

A Quiet Smile Lasts

In a sky larger than the horizon can hold,

   The midsummer sun rules the night,

      Attending clouds reflect his light,

   It moves over the waves in mercurial flight,

And secrets of the music unfold,

It sings quietly of the fire in a star,

   And covers a sleepy northern isle,

      In such a gentle calming style,

   This unforgettable smile

Dark days of winter will not mar.


Thursday, 25 September 2008

Who wants to be a Princess?

The Hebridean Princess sails regally out of the harbour,

Like a faithful dog the small boat shepherds its’ charge

Safely through the deep channel toward the open sea,

Joined for a moment by need and care the partnership forges

An unspoken bond that rides the white foam between them,

And like a sheepdog happy to have accomplished his task

Running down the hillside in a flash of black and white,

The pilot boat returns waving a white water tail high,

That reflects sunlight it streams out like silvered smoke.

I have no desire to be a princess but part of me cries out

For simple guidance through the dangerous waters I sail,

Yet another part feels a need to care that I cannot satisfy,

I feel lost in the foam without direction or purpose,

Barely survive being wrecked on the rocks,

Repeatedly sail too close to the wind for comfort,

I am an endangered boat and a lost sheepdog,

I cower from the pain with my tail between my legs,

There can be no joy in me when no job is well done.


Instinctively I seek a haven for my mangled mind,

   Words to hold ideas that might mend with a magic thread

      The deep weeping wounds of my broken heart,

   Wind round and weave my thoughts into the beauty instead

      That I see all around, touch happiness and never part,

So no matter how far I roam I will always find

   Myself at home on the journey I must travel,

   The tangled thread of my life I shall slowly unravel,

And spin the two together so they become safely entwined.


To a new found freedom I will become willingly bound,

Tied to my imagination my last dreams will sail,

From a safe haven toward uncharted seas,

Carrying me over waves of emotion I will ride

Through any storms into calmer waters and there

I will be held breathless between earth and sky,

Where thoughts lie frozen in time to be woken,

When the wind blows again through a foam filled crest,

And I rise to dance light as air on the deep water.


You may gather from this entry that things are a bit tough for me at the moment but I have every intention of catching another dream so hang on to your hats!

Thursday, 18 September 2008


Fallen tree your roots flying free,

   In death you look victorious to me,

I sense your ancient spirit still,

   And stand in awe, I always will,

You were the best and deserve your rest,

   You stood firm and survived life’s test,

Though I am so small beside you now,

   I’ll tell your tale if you will allow.


Borne on the wind of chance you won,

   Your place right here under the sun,

Fed by the earth you fought and grew,

   To a height attained by very few,

Your song is ringing through the air,

   Still calling to any who would dare

To follow; grow straight and tall like you

   And reach for the light in all they do.


Everything you heard and all you saw,

   You hold in time like an open door,

Through which we can listen and look,

   Some hear and see the day the earth shook,

As you surrendered the wealth in your store,

   Returning her gifts with so much more,

The forest still echoes to the sound,

   While you lie sleeping on the ground.


I touch the moment I heard your song,

   It caresses the air with beauty, yet

    The strident call wins every bet,

Always sounding both clear and strong,

I would walk quietly in your shade,

   I would grow up toward the light,

   And under the full moon of the night,

Try to match the shadow you made.


Tuesday, 16 September 2008

The Ides of September

Misty morning in September,

     Holds a summer to remember,

A leafy lane echoes the sound,

     Silent waves weep o’er the ground,

The music flies on fragile wings,

     See the soulful song it brings,

Hear the heart that beats the drum,

     To pave the way for fall to come.

Green leaves turn to red and gold,

     Branches bear the harvest they hold,

Flowers fade, yet see them sing

     A song to winter and to spring

That autumn winds will carry far,

     Taking the warmth of a yellow star,

To burn and keep the cold at bay,

     Thereby in the light always stay.

Cast a web to capture the dawn,

     And hold light against winter’s scorn,

No matter how hard strong winds blow,

     Ethereal beauty will forever show,

Work woven with a simple goal,

     Will always fulfil its’ ordained role,

I take this moment in space and time,

     And picture it in rhythm and rhyme.

Ad Astra

Fly, fly from yesterday

     In hearts that remember,

     The fifteenth of September,

Fly to the stars today,


But return to this land,

     When it has the need,

     Of every brave deed,

That for peace and truth stand.


Fly forever into bright blue skies,

     Take our dreams so high

     They can never die,

In tomorrow the future lies,

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Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Mirror, Mirror

The air hangs heavy over discarded litter,

Such cheer laziness makes me angry and bitter,

A generation has come that leaves to another,

To care for this country like a sister or brother,

We’ve cosseted these selfish people too long,

It is time decent folk sing a louder song.

I took this picture within yards of a bin,

With some people so blind we cannot win,

I filled two carrier bags today,

With litter dropped on the Pennine Way,

No wonder the council tax is so high,

Clearing up after morons makes me cry.


Image credit ROB

Moving mirror hold my heart,

    That once sailed bravely over thee,

    Then whisper words to set it free,

And from you it will never part,

Together we will always weave,

    Between the banks of gold and green,

        Under changing skies we’ll be seen,

    Echoing the places we have been,

Before it’s time for us to leave.

Image credit ROB &Photoshop

A rusting skeleton now lies,

    Derelict and devoid of dreams,

    Washed by water as it streams

Forward, and as yesterday dies

We shall sing our silent song,

    Today to every tomorrow,

        Laughter will conquer sorrow,

    Sunbeams and moonlight we’ll borrow,

To dance with us where they belong.

Image credit ROB

The music will play for all to hear,

    No lock can bar our melody,

    Nor storm mar our serenity,

We are a way and always near,

Touch us with an open hand,

    Watch the ripples wave with delight,

        See beauty-displaying wings for flight,

    Join in the dainty dance of light,

And love will flow through this land.

Image credit ROB

This is my last entry, as I need to gather strength to fight the distress noise is causing me. If I manage to bring it under control I will come back with more pictures within pictures, but for now many thanks to everyone who has helped and encouraged me. Kindest regards to you all.

Boom Boom

No picture, as my camera isn't good enough to capture these little creatures. However I thought I would take you on a visit to the particle zoo that will be opened by the Hadron Collider today :)

Let me take you on a visit to the particle zoo,

I'll go quite slowly, in case you are new

To the words and names of the little ones here,

I'll explain things carefully, so have no fear.


I'll deal with the Leptons, as in bandwaggon, first,

Since they're fundamental particles, now here comes the worst

They come in matter with an anti-matter twin,

With the same mass but opposite charge and magnetic spin.


The negatively named Electron, Muon and Tau

Have positive Positron, Anti-muon, Anti-tau pals now,

If I haven't confused you yet that's not all,

There are six neutral Neutrinos that nothing can stall.


Now we come to Quarks, as in up with the larks, they

Are bound by the strong nuclear force to stay

As Baryons, or Anti-baryons, at the atom's core,

In positive Protons and neutral Neutrons store.


There's a tasty set of Quarks in six different flavours,

When I read their names my bottom lip quavers,

Called Up and Down and Charm and Strange,

Top and Bottom complete the range.


Of course they all have their anti-matter twin,

So put anti- in front and widen your grin,

These names were given by seriously clever men,

So what chance has this poor idiot then?


PS Don't feed the bear facts

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Tuesday, 9 September 2008

Nonsense and Nonsensability

The three-toed Gobbledeegook looked askance,

He couldn't quite figure the steps of the dance,

He shuffled his feet and crossed his toes,

Where he left his socks no one knows,

Except maybe the Snifferlot with the extra long nose,

Could probably find them if he chose,

Everyone sighed a huge sigh of relief,

When the Snifferlot chose not to cause such grief.

The music changed from a waltz to a tango,

The Gobbledeegook threw himself into a Fandango,

The Fandango wasn't at all amused,

And politely asked to be excused,

The Gobbledeegook wouldn't take no for an answer,

And proceeded to try to entrap and entrance her,

She looked at his feet and counted his toes,

Six in total, three in two rows.

The Fandango realised the Highland Fling

Was the dance for the Gobbledeegook, and started to sing,

'With your number of toes, in two separate rows,

The waltz and the tango will bring us to blows,

The figure of eight is the dance for you,

Since you've been blessed with toes so few,'

So everyone threw their hats in a ring,

And danced for joy to an air on a string.


...running...out....of ...photographs! <G>

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Monday, 8 September 2008

"Your if is the only peace-maker"

The subject is another quote from Shakespeare, As you like it, and again I ask to be forgiven for taking his words to introduce mine.

Please do not confuse my positive 'if' belonging to my dreams with the negative 'if only' that ONLY belongs in the past.

If I were a pebble on a beach,

   I would tell of the time I could reach,

To the passing clouds and peer inside,

   Gazing at the treasures they carefully hide.

Percussion playing white horses pound

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Waves to the shore

And asks for more.

If I were a shell lying on the sand,

   I’d persuade you to hold me in your hand,

Close to your ear, so you might hear

   The sounds of the seas both far and near,

Percussion playing white horses pound

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Waves to the land

And wakes the sand.

If I were a single grain I’d be

   Extremely difficult to see,

But gathered with others in a glass,

   We could measure the hours as they pass.

Percussion playing white horses pound

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Waves to the dune

For another tune.

If I were a dune a shape-shifter I’d be,

   Sculptured by wind an artist born free

To compose variations by day and by night,

   A truly moving yet memorable sight.

Percussion playing white horses pound,

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Waves to the trees

Standing by the seas.

If I were a piece of driftwood flung

   To mark high tide I’d have already sung

My song of life to the earth,

    With both tragedy and mirth.

Percussion playing white horses pound

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Soars to the sky

As the waters fly.

Image credit ROB

If I were a bird a woodpecker I’d be,

   Making my home in an old oak tree,

I’d hammer my message night and day,

   The rings of time echoing what I say.

Percussion playing white horses pound

The ocean’s edge and the sound

Carries through the water

With the song of the Orca.

sorry no photo!

If I lived in the sea kelp I would be,

   Young fish would find safety in and around me,

Fronds finding the light bending to the ocean’s beat,

   I’d hold fast to the rock of ages with my feet.

Sunday, 7 September 2008

On the Seventh Day

Image credit DOUGY

I would give you a beautiful song,

   Making any who hear it want to stay and belong,

       To a time and place where there can be no wrong,

       You would sing it day and night,

   In dancing sunbeams and calm moonlight,

Silent music giving a moving sight.


Those who see your music playing,

   Will hear and understand what I am saying,

       As at their feet the earth is carefully laying

       Priceless jewels from her guarded store,

   And we see briefly through an open door,

The detailed design of nature’s law.


Love for the moment holds it forever,

   Not even time’s sharp arrow can sever

       The gently weaving thread that will never

       Loose its’ hold on an open heart,

   Promising that it shall not depart,

True love is eternal from the start.

Love never grows cold,

   It burns as fiercely as in my youth,

   When I first felt its’ flames of truth,

But now my heart is old,

Broken in the past,

   Memories only holding more pain,

   As they pierce my defences yet again,

Even betrayed, love will still last.

I reach up for love,

   And would hold it safely in my heart,

   But now unable to play its’ part,

It passes from above

Through strings that play,

   The songs of every season,

   Not acknowledging any reason,

Except love will find a way.

Love, greater than faith or hope,

   Conquers every human fear,

   Wipes away every bitter tear,

Steadies steps on the slippery slope,

It will not fade away when old,

   Like the transient morning dew,

   But glows as ancient rocks can do,

Given thyme granite grows with gold.

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Saturday, 6 September 2008

Sometimes I wonder...

... if I am mad to see the things that I do.

The water flows like champagne,

   Bubbling beside and over the trail,

   The storm delivered rain and hail,

Water now streams down the lane,

Surging through debris it dances,

   Revealing a newly washed golden sky,

   On which the reflections of stars fly

And the shadow of a comet prances.

The flood flows through my open mind,

   Carrying pictures within pictures,

   No borders or strictures

Can confine the thoughts that I find,

Dancing in the dark like dreams,

   And words in bubbles rise,

   Try on the morning for size,

And create their own light beams.

...and sometimes I know I am mad to see the things that I do.

The sun didn’t come out to work today,

    He decided to take a holiday,

He went downtown and boarded a bus,

    He didn’t say who he was; or make any fuss.

He looked all around; he searched with a frown,

    He looked for a seat so he could sit down,

The bus was full only one vacant seat,

    It was right at the front, he thought that was neat.

The lunch tray was set at just the right angle,

    For his corona to rest on, prominence to dangle

Over the rim and through the spokes,

    He wished the moon could see and tell one of her jokes.

The silence was broken by a surprising ‘brum’,

    Which then settled down to a steady ‘hum’,

The sun was sure he hadn’t touched a thing,

    But the bus had certainly started to sing.

It’s my radiation, was the sun’s first thought,

    That shielding I bought isn’t doing what it ought,

The driver won’t need to turn on the heat,

    For warming the place I’ve got everyone beat!

The driver, ah yes, now who would that be?

    The sun thought for a second, oh gosh, it’s me!

Now where should I take this busload of folk?

    I need to remember the moon’s last joke.

Now although the sun is exceedingly bright,

    He loses his memory every night,

Which is why you hear many people say,

    Dawn is the start of every new day.

How does he lose it? That’s the secret of the moon,

    And she won’t reveal it any night soon,

Since she can tell him the same joke every time,

    As Jupiter charges a fortune for silly rhyme.

Jupiter rolls with laughter around the pair,

    Playing in storms with a humour rare,

The biggest and oldest a right royal red,

    Two small ones in a game of catch up instead.

The sun steered the bus to Oo’s and ahs,

    Out of the station under the stars,

An astronomer inside was completely dumbstruck,

    He stared and couldn’t believe his luck.

What should have been daytime wasn’t, so he

    Could now incredibly, amazingly see

Alignments he had held only in his mind’s eye,

    So he didn’t wonder why the sun wasn’t in the sky.

Venus was busy washing her hair,

    Mercury had run for his life to stare,

Mars shouted loudly his colour meant war,

    Venus claimed he was bluffing and blushing for sure.

Neptune mystically arose from the sea,

    Saturn repeatedly jumped through hoops in glee,

Uranus claimed ‘twas by his magic alone,

    Old age had a spring, and water turned to stone.

A request for a happy musical ride

    Was made by one then the other side,

The sun carefully searched his frequency band,

    For one, Oh one that he could stand.

It was high noon in the night around,

    So betting was started on the top winning sound,

Voted for by more than six and a half million,

    The sun rounded it up to a simple trillion.

The bus rocked away from ten down to one,

    Everyone agreed they were having great fun,

After that they all sent in a request,

    So they could also be heard on the best.

And then when I’ve taken you home, said the sun,

    I’ll listen to my favourite, because I’ll have done,

Everything to give you an interesting night,

    When you were expecting to see daylight.


I think occasional madness is a good survival tool in this mad world.

I hope I gave you a smile especially if your day seems very black.

Thanks to Warrington Networks for the bus :-)


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Friday, 5 September 2008

Quiet Reflection

Image credit DOUGY

Your song silently plays in front of me,

    Like moonlight dancing on mercury,

Even Venus in her veiled beauty,

    Cannot sing such a melody,

No image can capture the light I see,

    Moving on water so gracefully,

No symphony could possibly be,

    Simply so pure and free.


The river ripples with applause,

    As your music rings these shores,

And calmly opens closed doors,

    That are locked to violent roars,

Offering natural laws,

    To peacefully end all wars,

With the sure strength that love stores,

    And your song to the stars soars.

"All the Worlds a Stage"

"He would drown the stage with tears"

Both the subject and the first line are quotes from The Bard (Shakespeare) I beg to be forgiven for taking them out of context and placing them with my poor offering. The first is from 'As You Like It', the second from 'Hamlet.'

If the skill with which winter’s coldest thought,

    Turns wild waves of the ocean to iron that is wrought,

For white bears to play out their lives on stage,

     Is forgotten by the waters, we will enter a new age.

Lands will be lost to the rising flood,

     Productive soil turned to useless mud,

The Atlantic conveyor will be brought to its’ knees,

     As the salt in the water falls by degrees.

Then by degrees will these emerald isles,

     Feel the cold grip of winter’s deadly trials,

The cry of the wolf will be heard again,

     As our beautiful country howls out in pain.

The shout is loud to save the seal,

     Whose baby eyes our hearts can steal,

While the balance of nature hangs on a fine edge,

     Listen to the ice screaming for a similar pledge.


This is my response to the news that another large amount of the ice pack has been lost to the Atlantic ocean.

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Thursday, 4 September 2008

Seaweed and Stone

Image credit ROB

High cliffs of Yesnaby that once were far below

   An ancient sea, now just a memory of a song

Locked in stone, a frozen clone that once swayed

   With the beat of waters deep and shallow,

The sand of time has raised you to stand firm,

   Against wind and tide holding inside secrets

Of an end to a beginning, winning a new role

   Guarding the free from a cruel sea yet calling

All life on land to remember her deep melody,


Ruinous building that once held laughter and tears,

   Now only wind and rain enter again to dance and sing,

A stone hewn from the land still stands outside the walls,

   A deeper song plays on in its’ erect stance,

Echoes from ages past memories last and call

   Between earth and sky to passers-by to remember,

Strength forged in a warm heart cannot be destroyed,

   It reaches for the sun by day and stars by night,

And never forgets the mystery in the light of the moon.

Wednesday, 3 September 2008

The Flip Side

I don't expect you will like the 'B' side songs I write. I hesitated over presenting this side but decided my journal would have the 'full works'. Only then could it be a true account of my journey.

Where the earth and sky become one the unknown lies,

    Memories like shining pebbles on a lonely shore

    Abandoned by the water, weep for what they saw,

Faith clings to the rock like seaweed lest all hope dies,


Understanding is hampered by a barrier of fear,

    Like a cold morning mist that cloaks the dawn,

    When reason from the mind has been violently torn,

And the final limit to endurance draws near.

Earth,Fire,Water and Air

The river calmly forbids the flames to enter her domain,

    They dance through the reeds sending signals to the sky,

    Smoke rises and with the clouds would try to fly,

Where the fire feeds little will remain.

Negative feelings are burned in the fire of my mind,

    Painful memories writhe in a dance of death,

    Ghosts rise and are banished with every breath,

And thoughts float on the water and peace always find.


Reeds unchecked would choke the river’s flow,

    With old dead brittle stalks that do not bend but break

    Where a small bird her clinging nest would make,

And safely sway in the wind on the new reed that will grow,

So my mind naturally destroys memories that would kill

    The chance for new thoughts to build a safe home,

    On the river of life where I constantly roam,

And use the winds of change to guide my free will.


Some unpleasant memories are still writhing at the moment in the fire I have lit under them.

Smoking them all out will take some time.


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Tuesday, 2 September 2008

An English Rose

Many thanks to Deb for flying across the pond to my rescue and spending time looking into the problem I was having. This one is for you.

Raindrops fall on my head,

     I bow to the earth,

         And hear her mirth,

         As they hit and run,

      Their journey just begun,

But I remain instead.


After the storm I raise my head once more,

     I won’t be blue nor yellow or white,

        For I’ve been touched by a star in the west,

        And from that day to the end of my quest,

     I will reflect a heavenly light,

With petals that finally fall to earth’s store.

I would like to add all the other people who have offered to help to the dedication. Thanks, you are all stars.
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A Small Boy, a Dog and a Ball

This picture has uploaded without any trouble so this is my offering for today.

Image credit DOUGY

I see straight lines that dream

   To be voluptuously curved,

        Into a circle,

A beginning and end entirely unto themselves

   Yet joined create a sphere,

A world in which to dream,

   Three held together

      By mutual desire,

To play in time such a rhythm the world stands still,

   While the changes ring through the ages.


The game full of laughter

   To be played

      Giving, receiving unmeasured joy,

Happiness come home,

Full circle.

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