41. More
Walk more slowly
Go more gently
Allow the queue
Ahead of you.
Never first but often last
Enjoy the moments
Before they’ve passed
Why hasten towards
A day that’s ending.
If it’s worthwhile
It’s better spending
Every second
Every moment
In peaceful contemplation.
Give way, allow the fool
Rush ahead of you.
Traveling panicked
Arriving blind and deaf
To the silent secret
Of what is here so short
About to depart
Never to return.
O wasted moments
And heedless days
Spent in a blur
Without ever touching
Him or her
Or least of all the self.
The soft breath lingers
For the soul that slows
And takes the time
To look and love.
42. Ode to peace
Empty your hearts of hatred
May peace take over your life
Let the spirit of nature take over
And gentleness lead you forward.
The things we thought so important
Have melted like snowflakes in June
And the worries we harboured at night
Dissolved in the light of the noon.
The little things that came back to visit us
Were the humble who truly smiled
And the people we sought to impress
Receded before our eyes.
Embracing the quiet and the humble
Inviting the joyful and the meek
Happiness grows and expands
As the ego falls asleep.
43. Last day
I think today might be the last
Of my life with chapter ended
In mid-sentence
The only way to go.
If not today, then some time
Hopefully suddenly,
Without announcement
Or premeditated show.
Being the last day, possibly
I smiled a little more
At girls and morning walkers
Along el Médano shore.
I drank my coffee with studied ease
Took ages eat toast and cheese
Savouring each mouthful, perhaps my last
What a way to enjoy breakfast!
The sun seemed brighter
The sea gleamed bluer
Good bye dear world
And thanks for everything.
44. I don’t know what I’ve got
I don’t know what I’ve got
Perhaps I’d rather not
Know the illness or
Condition that will kill me.
Too much info
Is a burden of morning telly
When ignorance is bliss
Seal silence with a kiss.
Pressing forward stoically
Wrestling illness heroically
Let’s not name the bastard
Let him die within me quietly.
I’ve promised doctor I’ll surprise him
And die of something else.
Not every sickness deserves a name
I’d rather pass, if it’s all the same.
45. Little cogs
If the brain is a bike chain
The cogs that drive it
Get old and frail
Falling off one by one, not altogether.
A forgotten name,
A misplaced key
A face that passes unrecognized
A meeting that goes missed.
Not all at once
But now and then
As the bright infant light
Grows age-old dim and gently fails.
To fight, deny and decry
What is unavoidable
Or to accept the inevitable
Withdraw in silence and dignity.
The circle of life
From first baby cry to last rasping breath
The running track that returns upon itself
If we are lucky to keep running long enough
Sadly, yet serenely.
46. Simple joys
I am being led
Into a room of simple joys
The shining sun, rejoice!
Through the autumn window panes.
Throwing shadows of the trees
Waltzing merrily in the breeze.
God is fun
God is free
God is freedom
For you and me.
47. A curly dog tale
She skipped and bounced
With life’s delight
She fizzed and whizzed
And barked at night.
But middle age,
It wore her down;
Her pretty face
A bichon frown.
‘We’re losing her’
The kind vet said
‘It’s weeks, not months
That lie ahead’.
‘Forget the pills
And diet too
Cuddle, curl up
Eat, sleep and poo.’
48. Have we the right?
Have we the right
To screw the world
For other beings
Those yet to come
And those cut short
By our senseless cruelty.
Come nurture, harbour
And restore
Create, enhance, enrapture
And safeguard
Living less that others
Get the chance
To live at all.
Wasting less and leaving more
Toiling to save this world
One of billions
Yet the only one
That’s home and core
To man and god
As best we know.
It’s worth the candle
Let’s trim the wick
Light up world
Save it quick.
We do not own
We simply borrow
A day, a breath,
A house, a home.
Parents come
And children go.
The grave or cask
Our resting place
No rent or rates
Water charges or council tax.
No views to sea
No noisy neighbours
Just the quiet chill
And serenity
In the cypress bound
Local cemetery.
We work and toil
We bake and boil
No work with love
Ever lost or stolen.
49. Above the clouds
The sleepy fliers
Gently snore
Six miles above
The ocean floor.
The harried crew
Smile and toil
Up the aisles
Of this metal coil.
The lad’s had
Too much to drink
She’s guzzling gins
As down a sink.
The guilty couple
Are holding hands
They’re cheating twice
As love demands.
The rocks and cliffs
Way down below
The soft white surf
With a distant glow.
Today I journey
All alone
Above the clouds
So far from home.
What awaits
I do not know
This is my life
But not my show.
It’s good to travel
For the soul
To find oneself
Becoming whole – again.
50. Thoughts on an airplane
The farmer in heaven
Has ploughed the white fields
Of fluffy clouds
And bobbly clouds
Straight in serried furrows
Porous covering both sea and land
Lying far down below, below.
And so this miracle of man
And science, unbelievably
Races just below heaven
Yet far above the earth.
The early flight now takes its toll
Fellow travellers doze and curl
Crumpled in seat in foetal balls;
Pretty girls with hair in buns
Their eyes made heavy with mascara
Their bodies golden
From the Spanish sun
The strong limbed youths
With new tattoos
Like helpless babes.
The safest way to travel, they say
Hung halfway
Between earth and sky
Improbably.
Underpaid for what they do
The overworked and busy crew
Go up and down the tiny aisle
As cramped as crabs
In summer seaside buckets
Toiling to and fro
Serving high and low.
Youthful parents
Nurse crying babies.
The silver haired
Forgetting that once they too
Were those very couples
Who scrimped and saved
To carve a special fortnight
In the sun, away from rain.
Escape a while from sapping news
That keeps repeating on the loop
The news that never ends and rarely lifts
Our exhausted senses.
On and on
The white fields run
Above the earth
Below the sun
Like heavy snow
Untouched by man
No footprints in this arctic scape
That runs for miles and miles
From here to infinity
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