The Zombie

Depression is a zombie,
dragging souls to hell.
It hollows out the inner self,
and hurts a lot as well.

Alas, for in that moment,
when we need “get up and go”,
we lose our navigation and
switch off our dynamo.

There is but one path forward,
one step ahead each day,
Fear of putting down your feet
must not get in your way.

However dark the road may be,
however black the night,
You’ll make it through this tunnel
And step into the light.

The Creature on the Moors

“Don’t go on the moors tonight,
beneath that cold moonlight.
Stay safe in doors, not on the moors,
please don’t go out tonight”.
He seemed a jolly fellow,
so I took his words in jest,
I hadn’t thought of going out,
just staying with the rest.

But after listening to his words,
I seemed to want to go,
to take a stroll out on the moors,
a sort of dare, you know.
I slipped out of the pub back door,
and down the country lane,
across a style, for half a mile,
as it began to rain.

But as I passed a clump of trees,
a shadow caught my eye,
did I just see something move
against the evening sky?
A cold and prickly feeling,
started creeping up my spine,
I felt that I was being watched,
perhaps for quite some time.

Of course, I’d heard the stories,
of the creature on the moors,
but hadn’t really thought it real,
just crazy old folklores.
A snap behind me made me jump,
and quickly spin around,
prepared to face a vampire,
or a ghoulish demon hound.

I fled back up the country lane,
and bolted through the door,
the landlord turned to speak to me,
“Have you been on the moor?
Don’t go on the moors tonight,
stay here, for in these parts,
after nine, it’s free house wine,
and everyone plays darts”.

9am on the beach

The roar of the waves,
as they break on the beach,
not yet drowned out,
by the clatter and screech,
of girls in bikinis,
in Instagram poses,
and dads rubbing sun cream
on foreheads and noses.
A sunbow of parasols,
will be displayed,
as lots of hot bodies,
set up in the shade.
The sand freshly raked,
and the sun loungers neat,
waiting for tourists
to put up their feet.

Oh the peace on the beach,
at the start of the day,
before all the tourists
get in the way.

Mary the Lyrical Fairy

Mary the Lyrical fairy,
Could make words disappear,
She’d wave her magic wand at them,
And they’d fly out of here .

Woosh! there goes a word or two,
Hidden from our sight,
I wonder what that word could be?
Could we guess it right?

There, you see, one went just then!
Can you work it out?
These words keep disappearing,
Is there a thief about?

We just can’t lock the words all up,
We need them free to roam,
I wonder if she’ll stop it soon?
And leave those words alone.

Why oh why then Mary,
Why must you mess about?
She says “words can be so painful,
So I rub some of them out”.

The Fall 2 – The Rise

Being the continuing adventures of Leaf in “The Fall”

Leaf trembled in the icy blast,
Twisting wildly round,
The only leaf left on the tree,
The others, on the ground.

He’d lived though all four seasons,
But knew his time had come,
The wind would surely take him,
And compost he’d become.

Then howling wind leapt from the east,
And SNAP he felt it go,
Suddenly he’s floating,
Caught in wind and snow.

High he flies, the tiny leaf,
Spinning round and round
Swirling past a steeple,
And down across the ground.

Round and round the roundabout,
Then over a street light,
Like a crazy fairground ride,
That goes on through the night.

He swirled into a market square,
Then swooped beneath a gate
And stopped outside the smart back door
Of Church lane, number 8

“Look this one is perfect!”
Cried the giant looking down,
She picked him up, “this one is just,
The perfect shade of brown”.

So now, leaf shines there proudly,
In a front-door Christmas wreath,
All golden, and with glitter on,
And two big balls beneath.

The Sentinel

I sit beside the fire,
I think of all I’ve seen,
Of Kingdoms and of Dragons,
Adventures there have been,
But oh what a surprise to find,
That soon I’d leave them all behind,
To go upon my last
My final journey.

Across the misty mountains,
Beyond the Chalice seas,
Through lush enchanted valleys,
Filled with watching trees.
At last I reach the caverns,
On Midsummer’s Eve in June,
Here I sit whilst waiting
For the rising of the moon.

So as the moon begins to climb,
Revealed within the light,
An ancient tomb carved from the rock
Upon which stood a Knight.
This dusty, aged sentinel
Looks kindly on my face,
He nods and steps down from his plinth
And I take up his place.

CLAWS

Lurking in the deepest seas,
Around the British Isles,
Hides a giant killer crab,
Who once starred on “X files”.

It swims up just below your feet,
Then grabs them with its claws,
And pulls you deep beneath the waves,
Like something out of “Jaws”.

CRAB-O-LOSSUS is its name,
With claws as big as cars,
The locals think It’s not from here,
It’s possibly from Mars.

Many harbour fisherman,
Have tried to kill the beast,
Boasting what a meal they’d make,
A massive crab meat feast!

But so far, everyone has failed,
To bring the beast to shore
The Mayor put up a big reward,
Ten thousand quid or more.

At least three hundred swimmers
Have been pulled beneath the waves
And bits of their anatomy,
Turned up in local caves.

The tourist season looked quite bleak,
No swimmers in the seas,
The cafes and the pier shows closed,
No more nice cream teas.

Then little nipper, Timmy Boyd,
A young, but clever chap,
Took a boat out late at night,
And set up a crab trap.

He caught the killer creature,
Then slammed shut his trap doors,
And knocked it out with such a blow
From one of his boat oars.

Now they keep it in a tank,
For all the world to view,
And tourists have been flocking back,
To pay to see it too.

The moral of this story,
Is take your deepest fears,
And capture them, or knock them out,
Then dine on them for years.

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