New Year’s Eve

Last day’s here on New Year’s Eve
Twenty-sixteen breathes its last
The year of fifty-seven summers
fading quickly to the past

It leaves me with a good deal gained
although also with a cost
With Bowie, Prince and Leonard Cohen
and many other loved ones lost

So I’m looking forward to the next one
for some promise and good cheer
As there’s so much to look forward to
with the arrival of New Year




Finding Rhyme

Every once in every while
as I write I find a smile
It has a lot to do with style
and sometimes just a little guile
So as I write I find that I’ll
find words which rhyme which I’ll compile
All to combine to my profile

Some words are formal some freestyle
But all of which when read erstwhile
serve to please and reconcile
So please don’t think that I’m puerile
or even somewhat juvenile
But think instead that it’s worthwhile
to bring a grin and make you smile



Flowers bring
simple pleasure
always to be found

As eyes will crinkle
every time
that flowers are around


Curtain call for the year

It’s the night time now
the end of line
And, like ships in the night
with silent ci-devant passing
this is the shadow time

Fading now the old year slips
gracefully away
And, with quiet acquiescence
welcomes the dawning of
a bright-clad newborn day

Not long now for the waiting
the new year beams
And, as the last curtain call looms
waiting quietly in the wings
There’s promise here it seems


Pleasing words

The simplicity
of pleasing words

into poetry
Ever written, never


Close to the sea

The joy of a home
that is so
close to the sea

Is something
special to me


Christmas day haiku

And so it’s Christmas
Laughter, cries of joy and smiles.
Love is all around.


Sometimes I can fly

Sometimes I can fly
High above like a bird I soar
and look down to the sea
and the rolling waves
and the white horses galloping there
And I sing

Sometimes I can fly
High above like a bird I soar
and look down to the earth
and the rolling hills
and the green of undulating downland
And I smile

Sometimes I can fly
High above like a bird on the wing
and look down from a mind’s eye
and a different world
and a peace born of contentment
And I am


The seagulls’ cry

The seagulls’ cry
of living by the sea

A thing of which
I’ll never tire
for it is a part of me


The poet’s dog

Curled up in a ball
and sleeping as I write
My faithful hound called ‘Obi’
is a lovely sight
He’s really happy snoozing
whilst I find words to say
But now and then looks up at me
to make sure I’m okay
So as a sort of accolade
with a cheer and little clap
I’ll write this poem for him
‘Cos he’s a lovely little chap


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