There was a perfect man,
Who had a perfect world,
He had a perfect wife,
He had a perfect girl,
He had a perfect home,
He had a perfect car,
He had a perfect sky,
He had some perfect stars,
He had a perfect dog,
That went on perfect walks,
He had a perfect parrot,
Perfectly could it talk,
But in his perfect end,
He was perfectly bored,
And his imperfect friends,
Saw he’s perfectly flawed.
So if he was truly perfect,
He wasn’t any more.
A girl sat swinging, swinging, swinging,
A girl sat swinging, thinking of her love.
Amongst the scented lilacs, a rose twined tree,
Where the girl and her love, would meet secretly.
She thought he had forgotten, his love, his love,
She thought he had forgotten his love in that rose tree.
Where together they had played, and laughed, and played,
Together they had stayed, until he went away.
Just then he came to meet her, meet her, meet her,
Just then he came to meet her, and greet her happily,
How could I forget my love, as beautiful as you,
Lovers don’t forget if their love is true.
The lovers sat, swinging, swinging, swinging,
The lovers sat swinging, thinking of their love.
Amongst the scented lilacs, a rose twined tree,
Where the girl and her love would meet secretly.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Every day she comes out,
Casting light all about,
Those there shadows better watch out,
Chasing off the sad old clouds,
Sunny days are happy and fun,
Full of peaches and ripe plums,
Shadows leaving as she comes,
That glowing, radiant, shining sun.
Sun shining through a window at Raglan castle, Wales.
Leaves, Leaves, Leaves,
Upon leafy trees,
In Autumn they blow down,
Drifting beautifully round,
Dancing like merry fey,
They float and drift away,
The leaves scatter,
What do they matter,
All the same in the end.
Leaves on trees.
A horn toots, the trample of hooves,
Dogs chase, the fox gets away!
Run, fox, run fox!
Tally ho the people go.
Tired out, people dismount,
Run, fox, run fox!
Over there, the fox is scared,
The dogs hear, get near,
Run, fox, run fox!
The dogs surround, the fox falls down,
The people whoop, the game is up,
Run, fox, run fox!
They near a ridge, a broken bridge,
Everyone falls, people and all,
Run, fox, run fox!
The fox grips, the fox slips,
The people cry, the fox climbs,
Run, fox, run fox!
The fox climbs, the fox tries,
The fox is hurt, the fox gets worse,
Run, fox, run fox!
The fox dies, joins the foxes in the sky,
Run, fox, run fox!
This poem was written in protest of foxhunting.
Dewdrops tinkling in the springtime,
Rain as it dances on the ground,
Long hair glittering in the sunshine,
Lightning from a silver cloud.
Starlight glowing like a firefly,
Wind as it clears the leaves away,
Misty mornings is a sweet time,
A blanket over where I played.
Brecon Visitor Centre, Wales
This is for the WordPress discover challenge: Transcript because this poem was in my notebook archive, and I thought I’d start writing that up again as my New Year’s resolution (yes, it’s halfway through January. But it’s also the first day of the rest of my life)!
A dandelion clock. Canon EOS 650D with 18-55mm kit lens.
Of course, all clocks have a face, even dandelion clocks, so this is also my entry for the Weekly Photo Challenge: Face.
Dandelion O’Clock:
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
Dan-de, lion-clock,
No-time, to-stop,
tick-tock, tick-tock.
Oh-so, fluf-fy,
Seed-land, near-me,
They-are, quite-free,
Oh-so, fluf-fy.
Time-to, grow-tall,
Where-the, seeds-fall,
No-stop, at-all,
Time-to, grow tall.
The-new, seeds-grow,
Scat-tered, in-rows,
Slow-ly, they-grow,
The-new, seeds-grow.
Yel-low, blos-soms,
Top-to, bot-tom,
Soft-like, cot-ton,
Yel-low, blos-soms.
Flo-wers, be-come,
Seeds-their, job’s-done,
Chan-ging, was-fun,
Flo-wers, be-come.
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
Dan-de, lion-clock,
No-time, to-stop,
tick-tock, tick-tock.
Whose is this sky, who left it lying around this world?
Whose is this world, who comissioned it to be built?
Whose is the air, the seas, the land, the trees?
And do they want it back again?
A grey horse, Gospel Pass, Wales.
Spring is upon us, nature awakes,
She brings up the flowers and unfreezes lakes,
The babies are born to the animals who mourn,
As the people steal, the animals’ corn.
Slow And Steady
Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, England.
A tortiose and a snail, one day had a race,
Both in competition, at a slow and steady pace.
The tortoise plodded on, the finish was so near,
But when he arrived, the snail was already here!
thewaterfallofwords 