
Reflecting again
Houses climb the hill
Roses and ivy climb the walls
Snow dusted hedges
And bright shining rooves
I can almost hear
Reindeer hooves
Clambering over
Cold icy snow.
Imagine a landscape
Frozen below.
New paintings and regular art updates.

Reflecting again
Houses climb the hill
Roses and ivy climb the walls
Snow dusted hedges
And bright shining rooves
I can almost hear
Reindeer hooves
Clambering over
Cold icy snow.
Imagine a landscape
Frozen below.

Seasons come and seasons go
Sometimes wind and gales blow
Winter comes the cold is sharp
Spring time and the singing lark.
Fills the world with sweet delight
But the spring soon takes its flight
Summer time comes round again
Sometimes hot, sometimes with rain.
Flowers bloom and butterflies flit
Through the world all brightly lit
Later days get old again
Leaves they fall in autumn rain
Waiting till the end of year
Darkness comes but no fear
Always after winter comes
spring arrived with glorious blooms.

Books, books,
Glorious books
Never too many
For stirring the blood
So follow me
follow me
Up to the library
And there we
shall wallow
In glorious Books!
(after the song ‘Mud mud glorious mud’ by Flanders and Swann).

Green
Floating
Upwards
Amid grey billows.
Like green dragons
Frogs
Or flattened chickens.
Strange creatures
Caught in a net of cloud…

Drink mulled cider
Dance and turn
beat the apple bough
Sing and burn
Fires to fight
And defeat the dark
Bring good fortune
To the bark.
Wassail the folk
Who sing in praise
A happy new year
And prosperity raise.
Remembered wassail
But not this time
Socially distanced
Won’t be the same.

Light pouring through
Liquid sun
Shadows thrown
Lens flare
So bright it hurts
Green and grey
Inside warmth
Outside, cold and bright.
Southern star
Shine bright.
Sunlight
Sunshine

Oi you!
Who are you looking at?
This is an owl seat
Go somewhere else!
Owls rule here
Birds are best!
Owls are tough!
Together we can rule the world!

My boy was here first
My boy is patient
He’s cute
His eyes close and he smiles.
My boy is not a large cat
He’s compact
Just the right size.
My boy is a tuxedo cat,
He wears it well.
This is his space.
He owns it,
Belongs here
Warm and friendly
He is mine
I am his.

Baubles and glitter
Owlish glass eyes
Tinsel and paper chains
Stationary supplies
Could be for Christmas
Could be for spring
Maybe for summer
A decorative thing….
What is this poem?
Totally daft
Owling not owing
Writing this draft.

We sang together
Here choirs
Stood and sang
The Music rose
And swirled
Susserations
Chords
Sybillance,
Words mix
Like kneaded dough
Pummeled and pushed
Descant rise
Low voices rumble
Carrying the highs
Above them.
Leasure and pleasure
Through sound
Alto
Bass
Tenor
Soprano
In harmony.
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.