Never Too Old
Never too old for a bed time story.
Never too old for a goodnight kiss.
Never too old to say I love you.
Never too old the believe that Santa exists.
Never too old to find the key.
In the in a gnarled old hole in the old Mother tree.
That sits in a clearing where the Wood Elves and Fairies be.
Hiding their gazes from you and from me.
Why is it grownups lose the magic and joy.
That warmed the souls of every little girl and boy.
Why do we forget about the excitement and spirit.
Of the Christmas stocking with playthings in it.
Snowy street lights and stories that linger.
About Snowflakes that are made by the Lace Makers fingers.
And the gateway at the North Pole, were in fantasy I slept.
Child like memories that I’ve happily kept.
Of all this magic.
One question I put and with hope I must do.
I believe in Father Christmas, my old friend honestly do you?-
The Last Of The Nets Men
For more than forty years he told me he’d been checking his salmon nets.
Sea boots and a captains cap and a hand rolled cigarette.
And on the ebbing tide he rowed his boat until almost ot of sight.
The changing times and English rules determine his catch tonight.
There are plenty of salmon in the river now, but I have to put them back.
Only Sea Trout am I allowed to keep and it’s their numbers that we lack.
At one time we could keep the Bass and Flounder for the pan.
But legislators stopped us so I’m the last net fisherman.
I pity the old fisherman as Whitehall seals his plight and his voice like many others is silenced and out of sight.
Now ones livelihood and tradition has been taken away without a choice.
So the Nets man, Tradesman and Farmer needs a new independent voice.-
Gifted By A Winter Chill.
Winter arrived this morning. Her breath gifted an early chill.
Silent and without warning she stirred and awoke my silenced quill.
In the darkness of dawn’s rebirth the trees stand stark and bare.
And the fallen leaves a testimony to the autumn and winter’s love affair.
There is a silence, almost sinister in the misty wispy air.
As the Robin sings his winter song to all the feathered fare.
The evergreens with jewelled fruit in abundance for all to feast.
As bedding is gathered from beneath the trees by most every fury beast.
As the sun climbs out of the moon’s cosy quilt she shares her needed rays.
To gently say “I’m always here to chase the chills away.”-
But everyone sees
The real you beneath your subtle smile you wear.
A true reflection of the memory I have.
Of the way we once were.
-
Sleepless Summer Nights
Disturbed I toss and turn on a troubled night.
Salty and sultry during the heatwaves bite.
Chasing away demons who hunt this space.
Between sleep and alive their chosen place.
I see your form under a white candle wick sheet.
Curved and perfect you sweetly sleep.
Unbeknownst to the hellhounds who claw at my feet.
Silent and peaceful she defies the nocturne heat.
Only disturbed slumber is burnished with such a curse.
From I’ll health and deep seated sadness to the pressures on the purse.
I chase them from deprivation whilst I seek your comforting hand.
And take shelter in your caresses and I’m swallowed by loves quicksand.
And when sleep finally overwhelms me and I drift under you candlewick sheet.
I banish the demons and hellhounds to be silent till the next time we meet.
Chris OMalley-
Bronzed As A Berry
She sat cultivating freckles in the summer sun.
Soothing the heat with the rim pulled down.
Ambre Solaire coated, soaking up the rays.
Bronzed as a berry in the midday blaze.
Cooked on one side now it’s time for her back.
Unhooking her bikini strap to avoid a white track.
Glistening like wet leather under gas mark number ten.
Sun kissed and crispy she will top up the front again.
Yes she’s heard of melanoma and the direct sunlight risk.
But she happy under the midday sun, worshiping the golden disk.
No words can guide into shade or cover her fragile layer.
She’s the Coco Chanel of Swansea Bay.
And for the sun she’s it’s main purveyor.
Chris OMalley-
Open Up
Until you've had an experience that truly changes the direction of your life
Until you witness something that cuts you like a knife
Until you hear the words that penetrate your heart
Until your guide reveals to you your life's about to start
Do you remember the warmth and protection within your mother's womb
Do you remember the sounds and vibrations you felt within that motherly room
Or the lights that greeted you when you were thrust into this world
And the wonderous things you've experienced as your life's unfurled
The measure of these encounters set us out upon the road
The journey is long and the arduous as we carry that heavy load
As soon as we realise and except the true meaning of the light
The roads are far less bumpy and the battles are easier to fight
-
My Ode To The Curry
Some like it spicy and others not so
Some go for the veggie version whilst others are carnivore
I just love it whichever way presented
Don't take it away from me or my love for you gets dented
Madras, vindaloo or korma just feed me and don't worry
I'll always say YES to a tantalising curry.-
The mystery of the ancients unfolded before your eyes.
As the wrappings of time are removed to reveal the wonders of her demise.
Revealed, your timeless beauty, hidden by the sands.
Whilst your words are strewn upon your walls put there by ancient hands.
Then preserved in regal reverence in tribute to your reign.
Immortal now with all the gods, prepared to rise again.
-
Thing That Almost Killed Me
A single second when I took a rest, the tree fell across the road.
The familiar sound that distracted my walk when that car mounted the curb.
It was second thoughts that prevented me that day from fishing during the storm.
And my decision to stay an extra night instead of driving when I was tied and worn.
Simple decisions that we all make altered a certain state.
And written in bold on our life page.
TODAY YOU AVOIDED YOUR FATE.-