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A Table Set with Tea for Two

With ancient trembling hands she sat, her table set with tea for two, she knew that he would not be back, a cancer killed him, that she knew. For sixty years they’d lived their lives, her table set with tea for two, the tea pot full just like their love, in times of stress, a welcome brew. And now her love was dead and gone, her table set with tea for two, the old tea pot her comfort now, without…

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A Winter Warning

It is dark, it is damp, it is night in the forest the cold in the air is the sharpest of knives. Hibernation, the saviour of all forest dwellers was nearly upon them as Winter arrives. All the nuts and the berries that they had been storing would last through the hard times expected ahead, when the snow lays its blanket of white on the forest and icicles cling to the trees overhead. And the moonlight is splintered to long…

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As Summer Slowly Slips Away

As Summer slowly slips away, and Autumn colours paint the trees, the dancing leaves with winds that tease, see darker mornings start the day. The Magpie, Blackbird and the Jay, now dominate the bridle way, as Summer slowly slips away, and Autumn colours paint the trees. The ruddy Fox and Owls can prey on smaller mammals with new ease, through underbrush devoid of leaves, where last born young compete and play, as Summer slowly slips away.

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Dreaming Beachcomber

I stroll along beside the sea, beachcombing is a calming thing, the soft white sand, the gentle breeze, the bounty that the sea will bring. Beachcombing is a calming thing, the storms can strand a thousand shells, the bounty that the sea will bring, while waiting seabirds ride the swells. The storms can strand a thousand shells, and other oddments lying there, (while waiting seabirds ride the swells), have all washed in from who knows where. And other oddments lying…

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The Foolishness of Man

A willow bows its weeping head to cry on witnessing the foolishness of man, the sleeping ocean lets out one last sigh on witnessing the foolishness of man. Majestic mountains close their eyes and weep on witnessing the foolishness of man, while continents have nightmares in their sleep on witnessing the foolishness of man. The planets pause in their eternal play on witnessing the foolishness of man, and God, embarrassed, turns his face away on witnessing the failure of his…

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The Day and Night

The soft seclusion of the night is torn as daybreak’s cacophonic chorus reels up to it’s lofty peak. All silence shorn from shadowed, lamp lit streets, while sunlight steals with fingers seeking blinds so old and worn, invading darkened rooms. The light reveals a sad and lonely occupant in bed in stillness, that’s known only to the dead. The harshness of the daylight leaves no trace as soft euphonic sounds of night return to gather all within its calm embrace;…

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She Danced for Me

She danced for me in bronze and gold, in leafy woods, her wings unfold, to turn the forests into flame Her name is Autumn, kind and tame. His cloak of crystal ice and snow, Will glisten after winters blow, and nights of frost and inky black, announce his presence. He is Jack. A flush of green in hedgerows show that Spring is back and all aglow, she heralds in a brand new world, with daily fresh green leaves unfurled. Hot…

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The Snake

Stealthily, slowly and silently, slipping through undergrowth, overhead overweight branches grew. Dark and the mistiness masking its timelessness tirelessly tracking its intended prey. Waiting, inflating its hood but so patiently, scenting its solitary source of success. Which was suspecting nothing, the animal forages never the less he is very aware. This is dangerous due to the darkest of denizens hiding, abiding, residing close by. But his hunger has harried him out of his lair, into forests of plenty so full…

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Some Things I Like About Summer

The Swifts declare that summer’s here with cartwheels as they fly and warmer days bring insects out, a banquet in the sky, while lobster coloured tourist gawp at all that they pass by. The longer summer evenings call for me to sit outside to sip a cool refreshing beer with friends from far and wide, or family who visit me (there’s some I can’t abide). Old England’s green because the rain falls almost every day, it cheers my heart when…

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Spanish Plains

These Spanish plains in Summer die beneath a cloudless, cobalt sky, are nestled by the mountains feet where valley floor and foothills meet, beside great rivers all run dry. While peasant farmers toil and try, to eke a living, wonder why God’s plan for them is so discreet. These Spanish plains. But Sunday comes they raise on high His adulation, “God,” they cry, “We love you but you bring defeat, and kill our crops with searing heat.” Then shrug and…

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The Season Ends

The empty streets, the cold chill wind. The cash on which all hopes were pinned, has vanished now, the tourists thinned. The season’s end, the cold chill wind. The seafront speaks of bygone days. The shuttered cafe’s vacant gaze, the tourist’s trails deserted maze, their mourning speaks of bygone days. Where tourists walked, the gulls now stand, a raucous carpet on the strand, drenched with rain, where once they tanned. Where sun beds stood, the gulls now stand. When April…

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The Storm

A sneaky breeze, a thousand thieves is creeping through the grass and trees and tugging branches, rustling leaves. Its fingers, cold against my face as faster it begins to race then dies away, without a trace. I turn for home and head downhill, the grass and leaves are now quite still but memory has left its chill. The wind returns with greater force and buffets me with no remorse, it tries to push me from my course. It gusts from…

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The Walk

With weary soul and heavy heart he stands and reaches for his winter coat and hat, he fumbles with his arthritic hands to lock the door into his dingy flat. He trudges down the lamp lit street alone the rain unnoticed soaked his ancient frame, his boot, so worn, flap on the paving stone as if to underline his unearned shame. But every now and then he looks around and seems surprised to find there’s no-one there then turns his…

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The Winter Sun

The winter sun is weak and pale and though it strives, to no avail, to warm my bones from Winters night, it’s still a welcome, cheering sight a pause between the rain and hail. A change from low dark clouds that veil the tops of hills above the vale, and storms that rage with all their might. The Winter sun. The march to Spring is much too frail with frost still painting field and trail, but none the less, a…

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Whose Shoes?

In silent woods where birds don’t sing amid the debris of the war, collapsing huts stand echoing the pointless screams from long before. With doorless mouths and glassless eyes and fresh green vines to soften them their broken backs still hide the lies of all the crimes that should condemn the evil that was once this place which disappears without a trace. But look a little harder, note those fragments of its former day the scars and stains beneath a…

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