A writing space for you to enjoy and a writing space for me to employ to increase my writing pace.

Month: October, 2014

My Perfect Writing Place

If you have a place you love to write then let me know in the comments 🙂

The city is not home to me,
All these buildings are surrounding me,
I feel as if they’re crowding me,
So it’s time to take a holiday,
Out to the country of my fathers,
Away from all the people and palavers,
Give me a lake,
Show me a mountain,
I’ll swim and I’ll climb, I’ll sing and I’ll crow,
My poems will sit inside me,
And when I get home the ink it will flow.


Sunrays In A Winters Day

The sun roars to life in a winter morning,
And rushes to warmer climates so soon,
Seems that the day has just begun,
You wake, you shower, and then it’s noon,
Where have all the sunrays gone?
Winter has taken them, every one.

The night in a winter sky sees clouds freshly sown,
And out grows a flower of snow and health,
A clearing of the air and peace on the ground,
All who look upon it have gained greater than wealth,
Here have all the sunrays gone,
Winter has given back every one.

Love Is Hard To See

He left a legacy of love behind him,
After taking so long to find him,
He’s walked on through his winding route,
Could climb every tree and take its fruit,
But now the bows have failed him,
And his own legs derailed him,
A power of human creation,
Has departed from his station,
He may have left love here for us,
But surely what he did did bore us,
I say this for as I take a look around,
It is difficult for it to be found,
Something so wonderful, a gift,
Was given from he who was a gift,
We have squandered all our gain,
Vanity abounds in us, bow now in shame.

Wanted For Years

I lust after a lonely piece of memorabilia,
An album of my own created style,
A collection of world, mile linked to mile,
A horde of achievement,
It could end as a bereavement,
I should lose it all if I go.

The Ongoing Book

Some days you can’t make it in time,
To put a full stop to the painful sentence,
That is being written across a page,
Of the book dearest to your heart.

I greatly wish to be there, to begin,
A fresher, brighter style of writing,
A kinder, gentler flow of wording.

The stories before have been scribed,
In such a way that they are scrubbed,
Of all the goodness that was before.

Yet it has been used greatly to advance,
Towards this beautiful chapter headed,
By a saved life, a moved heart, a love.

So some days you aren’t meant to make it,
A painful sentence makes the book grow,
Strengthens all the characters within its pages,
And those that read the words etched there.

Two Voices Together

I see you shiver,
Are you cold or are you crying?
Are you breathing or are you sighing?
Is the lump caught in your throat,
Holding a scream or stopping a note?
Feel free to share what you see as wrong,
If you don’t you could be down quite long.

Mountains, mountains, and mountains again,
Back logged buildings,
Rattling wild things,
Could you kiss me and smile,
I could do with a break for a while,
A shallow hideaway only a short mile away,
A parapet to place my head,
A pair of pets to ease my bed, and make me joyful still.

Little Blue Boy

Little boy blue,
What can you do,
She said your singing is cute,
And your guitar sounds like you’re blowing a flute.

Get up and out of your bed,
Speak and say what is inside your head,
Open and know that others share the same,
Tell them you love them, give yourself a name.

Cut your nails,
Pick up your strings,
Practice your craft,
See he who sings,
Lift your ears,
Make it so now,
Hear the notes float,
And the melody flow.

You cannot hide behind hands,
Hope was handed to you and expands,
Through the love of her, she who’s ahead,
Take care now, listen to all that she’s said.

Little blue boy,
Too old for toys,
You are wasting your days,
Just playing and casting your good skills away.

Looking Back/You Could Tell Them

When I have died,
And the cloak has fallen over my googling eyes,
You, personally, can tell them,
“He wasn’t really that fantastic at all”,
They may disagree, but if you’d look back and see,
You could, and would, notice many,
Of the so called successes were indeed,
One or two chances stuck together,
Stuck together by grated luck and a man in need,
Of great help by all those around him.

It’s something to behold,
The past.
What a treasure trove of accidental things,
Now it all seems like it was planned,
But certainly not by me, who stings,
In pain when told he only manned,
His body and his life,
It was never mine to have at all,
And now I’ve seen this factual point,
I’ve kicked the old bucket, pretty face and all.

Morning and Evening

Good morning to you,
I’m sorry I’m late,
You have to understand,
That reasonable people are at stake,
And it’s the time to take,
Everything that comes to you.

Ask her how she is,
It’s something around,
Feeling annoyed and tired,
What caused this troublesome thought to abound,
You hear the trumpets sound,
And know its time to go now.


She’s a great bully,
But a greater love.