Taking a break

Mid-December is here
We’re winding down fast
Christmas it seems
it with us at last
Just a few days to go
and all of them manic
as colleagues and projects
go into a panic
But the end of the week
slows down quite a bit
so everyone here
can get used to it

Several days off from work
more important things loom
Time for family and friends
which we’ll all see quite soon
And then we’ll forget
what drove us berserk
as we all take a break
from the pressures of work

©Jemverse

Photo – Shoreham’s concrete sheep taking a break for Christmas – Jempics

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Interesting things II

I often search along the shoreline
where the tidemark’s clear and good
for interesting shells and stones
or bits of sea-washed wood

Sometimes there are stones with holes
or lengths of knotted rope
The choice is ever-changing
and there’s never lack of scope

Then later when these things are dry
I will use then every one
Shaped to form as testament to
the sea from whence they’ve come

Driftwood sculptures on the wall
or free-standing on their own
The treasures from the shoreline saved
and each one given home

©Jemverse

Sunshine in St James’

Centre drum westwards,
Heading home
Once Victoria, chiselled stood
Horse and carriage, silk top hats
For gentlemen to roam

Through hollow hallowed halls
to Horseguards Parade
The nation’s treasure safely held
Entrusted to the suited few
But seldom fortune made

Sunshine greets St James’ Park
An oasis of green
Bordered by towering history
The Queen’s black swans, a home
where royalty has been

Birdcage Walk, the palace there
Just a view away
And I, from long day’s trudge come
To this honour and this privilege
On this sunny winter’s day

©Jemverse

Telford

I quite like travelling
But sometimes it’s a chore
Especially when your working day
Is eighteen hours or more

Telford up in Shropshire
Two hundred miles away
But on a train – eleven hours
To get back within a day

Beyond the call of duty
To retain one’s sanity
So I’ll not be doing that again
Too much travel there for me

©Jemverse

I am an island

It is a bleak time , this morning thing. A manic push with faces sour

A grey-grim gloom as though a cloud should hand long o’er this morbid shower

Yet I have a clear recollection of a brighter time with a glimpse of the sun

I am that face in the crowd with a smile, the one who heralds clarity when the day is done

 

Still shuffling feet the chain-clad throng, all eyes lowered firm to the ground

Or focussed on a middle-distanced view, move slowly on with ne’er a sound

And yet, spinning round in the centre, I look through the cloud to the blue behind

I am an island here, a beacon to the pleasure that waits for the grey to find.

©Jemverse