Reality Check

Where is she,
the ‘me’ I used to be?
Fading, shredding, wafting free
in ragged pieces, desperately
spinning, shrinking, hard to see.
Pretending, as things become less clear,
that nothing’s wrong, I am still here.

Inside I sigh
and tell physicians passing by
‘I’m not the same, although I try,
I’m crawling where I used to fly.’
The truth is hid in their reply
– ‘few treatment options for a brain’
I know I can’t be ‘me’ again.

Of Sadness

I cannot write of beauty
When sadness fills my mind
Why this should be I do not know
I’m not the moping kind

And though I look at lovely things
And wonder at their grace
Those trees, that sea, those starry skies
They’re from another place

Not nestled here within my heart
With melancholy signed
I cannot write of beauty
When sadness fills my mind

Yet there’ll come a day
Or so it’s said
With sad thoughts left behind
Those moons and loons
And rainbows
Once more will fill my mind

Meet Black

Black can mean so many things
and can be misunderstood,
like when it’s said in plural
it’s both racist and it’s rude.

Yet put the small word ‘all’ in front
and the plural form seems fine
– we’d like New Zealand All Blacks
to play in our front line!

We can think of Guinness drinkers
as they sup on their black grog,
or Churchill’s deep depressions
that he nicknamed his “black dog.”

Black beans will help your colon,
Black-eyed Susans flower in June.
Two ‘new’ ones seen in just one month
will give us a ‘black moon’.

Break a strike and you’re a blackleg.
Blackball someone and they’re out.
All in all black can be gloomy,
yet black coffee may stop gout!

Too much booze may cause a black-out
and black humor makes us laugh,
but for bad luck to pursue you
let a black cat cross your path!

albi aug 2016c

Kernow (Cornwall) – land of tales untold

Land’s End indeed, as pounding seas
and craggy cliffs remind us still
of this the seat where Arthur ruled
and Celts held on with stoic will.

Scraped lives from harsh and windy moors,
and fought to fill their nets with fish,
searched for copper, tin and clay,
survive with pride their only wish.

Bound by water on three sides,
village and coast such sights to see,
her people, surviving nature’s whim,
heirs to proud, rebellious history.

Past Imperfect

They’ve much to answer for
It’s easy to say
Yet personal history
Made them that way

Experience moulded them
They weren’t prepared
By some media pundit
Just knowledge shared

Though life threw things at them
They coped best they could
Though some times were bad times
Many were good

Benefit of hindsight
Comes all too late
Living life as it comes
Deciding one’s fate

Think how different things were
Not who’s to blame
But each generation
Keeps saying the same