Wednesday, 17 September 2014

Thoughts on Golf

The rolling green
Expanse is seen
A lone man hits on cue;
A first class shot
As like as not
And swiftly followed through.

He stops awhile;
His stance has style
Perhaps he'll light his pipe;
And meditate
Upon the straight
While others come in sight.

Fresh air around;
No other sound
And three more holes to go;
And on the links
He's time to think;
The pleasure's good and slow.

Time passes by
18th is nigh
A pint would go down well;
Philosophy
And golf agree;
What stories they could tell!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

CLICK HERE FOR DETAILS OF MY BOOK LAUNCH IN BRUSSELS ON FRIDAY, 10TH OCTOBER
AT 19H in Central Brussels:

http://waterstonesbru.blogspot.co.uk/

Monday, 15 September 2014

In Place de la Monnaie

Five degrees above the average, I am told
I put my head outside – it is not cold
There's a richness in the copper-coloured leaves
The tourists in the centre wear short sleeves.

The sky is sapphire blue, the wind benign
A man lies on a bench, quite close to mine
Oblivious of the movement all around
As if his brain has blocked off every sound.

The Opera House before me exudes peace
Above eight lofty columns, Grecian frieze
The Belgian lion struts before a lyre
No traces now remain of a bad fire

Which ravaged it in 1855
But soon it rose again, sure to survive.
Season tickets can't be had for ready money
It is sold out every season – it's uncanny.

In Eighty-Six a brand new floor was added;
The extension roof now green; with black tiles cladded.
Its role in Belgian history is well known
The Dutch in 1830 were sent home!

Its elegance and style are much remarked
Strange to think that here was lit the spark
That caused the Revolution – made us proud
As a symbol of our Statehood – it's unbowed!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014


Saturday, 13 September 2014

The Plans of Mice* and Poets ...

I plan my day and write it down
Each task has its allotted time
Calculate my journeys into town
And on paper the agenda's fine.

But interruptions tend to come
From phone calls, visits or email
New challenges can make me run
And many of my targets fail.

A birthday phone call carries on
It's rare we have a time to chat
First minutes, then an hour is gone ...
Letters drop down on the mat.

A neighbour needs a helping hand
A light bulb pips – must be replaced
My mental hour glass loses sand
I fry an egg in nervous haste.

Cripes! Four o'clock – so much remains
I've had no time at all this week
To catch up, so I take great pains
To clear the decks and miss out sleep.

But as the daylight fades away
My agenda seems as long as ever
I shrug; stare at it in dismay
It is beyond my best endeavour!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014

* with apologies to Robbie Burns!



Friday, 12 September 2014

Hitting Sixty

It's time to reminisce a while;
You were a cherub, Raphaƫl-style
Chubby, blonde with deep blue eyes
And Mummy's very special prize.

As Big Sis, I watched over you
You picked up fast and followed through
Soon you walked and rode your trike
Later came the Raleigh bike!

I think we got along OK
But the age gap meant we did not play
Together much; your love was bricks
And Thomas the Tank Engine at six.

While I lost myself in reading
You liked sport and go-kart speeding;
We were very different you and me
We enjoyed a certain liberty.

Both went abroad – you liked Japan
A world trip - you became a man!
As Europe meant much more to me
Our careers down separate paths would be.

Exotic partners we both chose
So perhaps we're similar – who knows?
Success at sixty, little Bro
With lovely wife and son in tow!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014


Thursday, 11 September 2014

From Blogger to Published Poet

This feeling of elation is not easy to describe
I'm on such a high that it's great to be alive.
An ambition I have cherished since I was under ten
Has now been accomplished – I'm thrilled – I can't be Zen!

I've always written poems since I learned June rhymed with moon
My love affair with language brought me recognition soon
A competition followed – I saw myself in print
My poem got me second prize and maybe was a hint

That this was my way forward as I love the written word
I played around with rhyme schemes and a batch of odes occurred
I used to hand write all my work – I now compose on screen
The keyboard now interprets all the words that come on stream.

I never know what thoughts will come as I sit down to write
It could be a chance remark that sets my muse alight
But now my blog is buzzing - I have «hits» from near and far
I've published my first book and hitched my wagon to a star!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014



Monday, 8 September 2014

Thomas - at 8 Months Old

Now that the public know your name
Things will never be the same.
You have your moment on the stage
You can look around and gauge

Reactions to your bright persona
I don't think you will be a loner.
You listen to those who come by
And like a babbling brook you try

To imitate the sounds you hear
But the human voice is a new sphere.
It's still a little complicated
Mind and brain must get acquainted.

But Thomas, you are learning fast
Grandma tells me you can grasp
Small objects and test out their shape
Not only food goes on your plate.

Dad celebrated Father's day
Thanks to you, this past Sunday
You've changed his life – now he and Mum
Marvel how far you have come!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014