MY CHRISTMAS WISHES

It is Christmas, a time when wishes can come true
I have wishes, and here are just a few
I wish for peace in every land
With every culture linked, hand in hand
I wish for the end of wars throughout the world
With the Rainbow flag of peace freely unfurled
I wish that Man could find a cure
For AIDS and Cancer that so many souls endure
I wish for a level playing field
Where the scars of disparity can be healed
I wish that terrorism becomes a thing of the past
No innocents suffering from indiscriminate bomb blast
I wish for an end to political corruption
Which waters the seed of moral destruction
I wish again that the world becomes one
With no battles of greed to be lost or won
Lastly I wish that at least one of my wishes comes true
And 2010 will be a better year for me and for you

Blind Faith (poem from story Son of a Farmer)

Still without children the farmer and wife
After many years of otherwise happy life
This a sorrow so hard to bear
Full of silent tearful despair

Every day when the farmer leaves for his field
His wife’s eyes with tears are filled
For from her window her eyes would dwell
Positioned there is the village well

Mothers fill their pitchers while their children play
There seated at the well like every other day
A young boy who was barely eight
Left by his Mother from dawn till late

This child, this poor wretched child
Sitting there so meek, and so mild
To his Mother he was just a bind
For he was totally profoundly blind

That night upon the farmers return
Wife said husband you know how we yearn
You know that child, that boy who is blind
We can adopt, I’m sure his mother won’t mind

But my wife my love he can not see
What good in our later life will he be
He has a heart husband of mine
He has a heart, let us be kind

Next morning he left for his field
Praying for a healthy, hearty yield
He left his wife with these words few
I love you wife, do what you have to do

Upon his return late at night
He was greeted by a wonderful sight
For there seated for him to see
He now had a completed family

This was a vision he’d held in his head
Ever since his wife and he had wed
A sight so wonderful to beguile
He showed his delight in his beaming smile

The first few years it was mother and son
The farmer said “to the field he must come”
He led his son then away
To the field for a working day

The farmer maybe long it the tooth
But he found this boy like many a youth
When it came to physical labour
He treated it with contempt and disfavour

So every day he sat on a boulder
While years past and he became older
Isolated, he was all alone
In some place, a world of his own

Then one morning the farmer woke late
A pain in his head and eyes that ache
Within just a matter of hours
He completely lost visual powers

The doctor said farmer my friend
For your sight this is the end
And the farmer he took to crying
He felt he would be better off dying

He started sitting at the well every day
For he could not think of any way
To keep his family feeding
While his heart was constantly bleeding

Then some weeks later
His son approached and said Pater
I don’t want your heart to bleed
Take my hand and I will lead

So on the trek they would start
As he had learnt the route by heart
And as this journey ended
The farmer realised his field had been well tended

From that day to the present
Through good times and the unpleasant
Farmer and son have worked hand in hand
Sowing and reaping their small piece of land

Now you must learn to know
With love and the seeds that you sow
You will most definitely find
That the blind can surely lead the blind

The Artist and His Muse

He is no longer an artist who has no name
His paintings adorn walls, he has his fame
Today he will commence his last and final piece
She is but a model, earning meagre fees
A young girl of beauty, just twenty years old
She is quickly posed upon a luxurious throw of gold

He, behind his easel, his canvas tightly stretched
He gazes on her face, where he sees her beauty etched
Palette in his left hand and brush in his right
Working out perspective in the ambient light
Pause a while, thinking, taking in the scene
Grateful that he had been sent such wonderful queen

Brush caressing the canvas like a gentle summer breeze
Depicting her contours with deft accomplished ease
Her deep brown hair of gleaming silken curls
Her eyes as wondrous as rarely seen black pearls
Her full lips with a warm honeysuckle smile
Her neck her shoulders, all wonders to beguile

He pauses once again, a required and thoughtful rest
Before he continues outlining her rounded alabaster breast
Her hourglass waist, her legs so elegantly slender
His brush, as if it also knew of this girls great splendour
Would glide and dance with magical unguided ease
As every contour, every curve it would lovingly tease

The time came and when his work was complete
He covered it with a pure white veil and took a seat
“Sir can I please see the fruits of your labour?”
Yes my dear, I hope that it meets with your favour
As she lifted the veil for the first expose
Her honeysuckle smile became an opening rose

But Sir have I not been your inspiration?
Is this a joke, or a cruel aberration
This canvas is blank, no oils have left your brush
Her cheeks already pink, but now a deep anger blush
Sir you will have to explain this to me
As there is nothing here for me to see

My dear sit down and I will tell you true
From the moment my eyes had gazed upon you
I knew that no artist living or long dead
Could do justice to the beauty that I saw on that golden bed
This is a creation of yours not mine
Please take this brush and in the corner sign

With my paintless brush, my mind I have trained
I am so much richer with the joy that I’ve gained
My head no longer has an empty space
For you have filled a void in this place
You have made my artistic quest complete
My gratitude I humbly lay at your feet

I now have a masterpiece that only I can see
It will now be the most precious painting to me
For this canvas and the palette of my mind
With every viewing I will surely find
The true and faithful image that today I have seen
With this, no longer will I have the need to dream

©Ray Gorringe 2009

Just Walking

Many years ago, when I was quite young
My life seemed to be lived on the run
With something new around every bend
Trying to keep up with the latest trend
Now I am much older, and wiser they say
I tend to live my life from day to day
So now I just walk, slowed down my pace
Realising life is not a winning race
I’m walking, just walking towards my end
For this could be just around the next bend
Turn left, turn right or go straight on
Not forgetting where I started from
The final destination no one really knows
The journey will have had its highs and its lows
I hope and I pray that my legs will carry me
For at this time, the end I can not see
When this end for me, does come into view
I will be content at being one of the lucky few
Assured in the knowledge that after the pain
I will be ready to start my journey all over again

To Be Or Knot To Be

Do not forget to remember
My Mother said to me
Remember what I asked
Nothing she said
Just don’t forget

On my walk to school
I had these words in my head
Could not work it out
Just did not see
Remember to forget?

Forget to remember
Do not remember
Or do not forget
Should I remember
Or should I forget?

By the time I reached my school
I had three knots in my tie
One to remember
One to forget
And one to remember to forget

At lunch I was looking at my tie
Which knot was for remember
Which Knot was for forget
So I tied another one
Just so I would not forget

When I got home that afternoon
My mother said to me
“Did you remember what I said”
Yes I think so Mother, I tied knots in my tie
And where have you left your tie? Was her reply.

Same Old Day

It’s just another same old day
In cold and damp middle England
Another day when the sun has forgotten to shine
And the rain is almost snow

The birds are not singing in the nearby trees
As if they had not bothered to wake at all
And the only sound that can be heard
Is the wind through a leafless bough

It seems the same every day
Don’t want to move at all
It’s that time, it is expected
Pleading eyes say “it has to be now”

The Dog, he needs his walk
He knows as you approach
The door to the outside world
With boots and gloves in a row

Walk for just about a mile
While the dog he does two
Jumping through hedges
To bark at a local cow

Home with his hair wet and muddy
It’s time to run the bath
Greeted at the door by the Cat
With a plaintive meow

Tomorrows just another day
In cold and damp middle England
Another day when the sun will have forgotten to shine
And the rain just maybe snow

Not Living

Peroxide blonde
With manganese eyes
Inhaling saltpetre
Through nicotine lies
Ethanol induced stupor
Alcohol Highs
Indian ink
Self mutilation cries
Amphetamine images
Coloured clouds in the skies
One last snort of cocaine
The streets to pay the price
There is no living
Before she dies

Son of a Farmer

It was yet another childless day for the village farmer and his wife, for many years they had tried, but offspring did not arrive. He was a simple soul, a subsistence farmer, every day working his small field whilst his wife stayed at home with Goats and Chickens to tend.

They longed to have a child but they were not getting any younger, but this did not quell the wife’s tears, for everyday she would look from her window to the village well and see all the mothers there with their little ones. Also every day for the last three years now there had been the sight of a young boy no older than eight who was brought to the well daily by his mother and left there until the moon appeared.

This miserable soul was deaf dumb and blind, but this day his life would change for that morning the wife said to her husband, husband you know that boy, you know that he is not wanted, maybe just maybe we can adopt this wretched child.
Her husband said wife of mine you know I love you dearly but this child will be of no use to us in our later years, he will just be another mouth to feed. Look my wife he is blind what can he see? “yes husband but he has a heart” He is deaf my wife what will he hear? “yes but he has a heart” He can not speak my wife “yes but he has a heart” What company can he be, how can he work a field. He has a heart, a heart that needs our love, I will look after him as if he were my own I will love him care for him make him welcome in our home.

The farmer then left for the field leaving just a few simple words, “I love you my wife do what you think should be done”
Later when the woman turned up at the well with her child, the farmers wife was there waiting, a deal was struck and with the exchange of a Goat this poor wretch would never again be left at the well.

When the farmer returned that night he could do nothing but smile for there he met his wife, at last with child. She was combing his hair and kissing his forehead, showing such maternal love. This sight was the image that he had imagined all his life.

Years came and year went with the same routine of life. The farmer would lead this boy, now a young man, to his field where he would sit him down upon a rock whilst seeding and harvesting was done.

Then one morning the farmer woke up with a strange sensation in his eyes and within hours he had completely lost his sight. The doctor said farmer Sir there is nothing that can be done.

The farmer turned to despair and spent every day sitting silently, unhearing at the well. While the routine of the boy, now a man carried on with daily trips to his rock for he knew the route in his heart.

Then one day the farmer whilst sitting at the well, felt a hand take his and lead him away to a familiar smell, the smell of ripening corn and the farmer knew where he was and who had led him. The farmer then moved with help through his small plot of land and he knew that it had been tended well.

From that day to this, the blind farmer and his Son tend the land together with the blind leading the blind. The future for this complete family has turned from darkness to looking bright.

Lady Fair

In the garden with my lady fair
The scent of jasmine filling the air
With moonlight shimmering in her hair
Two souls as one, with love to share

It would be this evening in this garden divine
That I would ask her if she’ll be mine
Hoping it would be a yes, for all to be fine
As without her love I would surely pine

As the stars appeared between moon and land
I took in mine, her tiny hand
I offered to her an engagement band
“Yes my darling I will” hearing this I felt so grand

The stars and moon they shone so bright
The garden now forever a delight
For me she would soon be wearing white
I was the happiest man alive that night

Technological advances for healing
Or for building weapons for destroying
Life saver or life taker
Pace maker or code breaker
Brain scanner or pain maker
MRI or TNT, CPR or GPS
Atmosphere pollution of nuclear tests
Political and particle fallout
Creating pitiful government handout
Chemical cocktails to restart the heart
Or redesigned to blow us apart
Scientists engaged in saving mankind
With vaccines and medicines to find
Developing compounds for various uses
Governments money leads to abuses
Why use up intellectual resources
To sustain life, prolong life and save life
Then use these same resources
To maim life, debase life and end life
Technology can be creativity in reverse
Professors Engineers and Assemblers
Are misguided missiles of industry
Ending or sustaining misery
Lining the pockets of corporate giants
Or strengthening the hold of tyrannical tyrants
A fight we have to endure hand in hand
It’s nature and not the nature of man
You may suffer or it could be quick
Tick....tick....tick.....tick.....tick....tick
BANG

I The Wishing Well

You think that being a Wishing Well
Would be a very good profession
A hole in the right location
Water added for effect
Just wait and monies thrown in
You would be so very wrong
So I’ll give you an explanation
For I am but an halfway house
I don’t make the final decision
I have to listen to all the wishes
I have to make a choice
I pass on those wishes based on merit
Others I disregard
I hear wishes based on torment
And wishes based on greed
Wishes based on sorrow
And wishes based on greed
Wishes based on loss
And wishes based on greed
I have to understand inflection
To justify my reaction
When I hear these words
“I wish my Father could die”
Is he is ill and in great pain
Or does he own a large plot of land
I once had a man with gold around his neck
Gold on his wrist
He dropped a sovereign into me
This alone would have satisfied many wishes
I wondered as it fell would this be for health
No it was extra wealth
My bed is not a good place to be
Among the route of all evil
And the evil that lies within
If I were allowed a wish
This is what it would be
That there were no need
No need for a wishing well

A Moral Tale (in Limerick form)

There was a man from the city
Who was annoyed with earthly depravity
He built himself a rocket ship
So out of this world he could slip
For a new life on Mars, with no gravity

This same man from the city
Thought he would find blissful eternity
When half way through his mission
He had a collision
That would bring him back to reality

And as he was tumbling
He heard a strange rumbling
A Martian ship on its way back
They stopped, they had a chat
Said the Martian “why are you grumbling?”

I find Earth far better than Mars
As my planet is littered with scars
I’m going back to rally my troops
And send to Earth exploratory groups
Your people, we’ll displace to the stars

After surviving his fall
He found Earth not bad at all
And he warned of impending invasion
Saving all life from every nation
So remember this when you set out your stall

Earth may not be healthy or clean
To leave you don’t have to be keen
And it doesn’t take drastic measures to show
That you should trust the Devil you know
For the grass on Mars isn’t green

SPIRIT of the FOREST

Morning takes so long to arrive
In the depths of the tangled forest
Where the trees cast a dappled light
And the mist lingers long

The mist swirls and dances
An eerie hypnotic trance
A ghost like apparition
In the dew spread grass

Where the sunlight falls
Prismatic reflections appear
Shadows take on ghastly shapes
Distorting the refracted beams

As the ground absorbs
Heat from the suns intrusion
The mist slowly elevates
A million demons in the air

They float and weave
A web of gothic confusion
Linger a while in the treetops
And slowly disappear

Night engulfs, its time to haunt
And morning arrives so slowly
There once again revealed
This mystical spirit of the forest

Deepavali Wishes

Please forgive any inaccuracies in this offering
It is written from the heart and not the head.

The festival of lights is upon you
May you all remember it well
Achieve your personal victory
With the evil that you dispel
And when you light your candles
When they are shining bright
Floating away down the river
You become aware of your inner light
The harvesting now is over
And I hope that in your private field
That you have tended with so much love
Crops, your dreams have produced a hearty yield
Like Rama’s conquest over Ravana
Good against evil forever should reign
In the harmonious state of Nirvana
All this with your faith you gain

I wish this upon all my poet friends
And this world as a whole
That without hurting others
You can achieve your personal goal
So have a very happy Diwali
And a prosperous new year
A heartfelt wish to all that I hold so dear

MELANCHOLY MOOD

Woke up this morning in melancholy mood
I can’t begin to wonder why
The sun is shinning oh so bright
And birds sing in the sky

The more I ponder the more I brood
Upon this question of why
The sun becomes less bright
And clouds appear in the sky

All I know is this can’t be good
As I continue to wonder why
The sun through the clouds must fight
And give glow once again to the sky

Then when I’m out of the wood
And I’ve solved the question of why
The sun gives way to night
And the stars appear in the sky

Sleep is such a nourishing food
That satisfies this hunger for why
The sun now a wonderful sight
And I wake, as one with the sky

Omnipresent Crow

Love them or hate them they’re always about
They take no notice of whatever we shout
Throwing stones and waving of sticks
They win in the end with cunning tricks
One will distract you, and when you turn around
Another pulls, your dinner to the ground
So voracious with chicks to feed
Theirs is sometimes a greater need
Now these birds that we all malign
Are created to a higher design
We have to be grateful to these Crows
A fact that not everyone knows
If they were to go, we would be ill and unfit
They’re our natural waste disposal unit

Earthquake
Ground shake
Land, home and bone break
Heart ache

Volcano blowing top
Lava flow can not stop
Destroys a lot
Whilst burning hot

Earthquake all at sea
Wave forms can not see
Tsunami hard to flee
A deadly killing spree

Hurricane deafening sound
Devastation bound
Ripping from the ground
Raising all around

Typhoon too much rain
Can not drain
Flood the plain
Suffer pain

Long droughts
Total routs
Farmer doubts
Nothing sprouts

Land slide
Lost hillside
Downward glide
Many cried

Nature has no borders
Does not follow any orders
Uses no bombs and mortars
Does not give any quarters

DIVIDED WE FALL

In this divided world of torments untold
War, Famine, Poverty, Atrocities unfold
With man hating God and man hating man
Rich against the poor, they know that they can

We were told in our early years
Stand up and fight our inner fears
Meaning of this is lost in the mist
Man divided, fighting hand and fist

As years roll by we all look back
At all that we do so surely lack
Compassion for others love for all
From now on let us make it our call

This we must do before it’s too late
By holding hands and forgetting the hate
Working together to a common goal
Trying to make this crazy world whole

ACCEPTANCE

I am no leader
But a pawn is their hands
I am no teacher
But I have learnt
I am no preacher
My belief is my own
I know what is right
I know what is wrong
At least I think I do
As my leader my teacher my preacher
They told me so.

WRITERS BLOCK

What is this, they call writers block
Is it a safety system that has a lock
An impasse from brain to expression
Preventing any form of accession

Can it be used in our favour
Thinking time for us to savour
Or is it yet another trifling annoyance
That quells the ardour of our flamboyance

We all suffer this mysterious illness
When our minds are filled with stillness
Maybe it’s so we can take a rest
So our next work will be our best

It puts a bar on our meditation
Alas there is yet no medication
We have to relax and let it heal
Again our thoughts to pen reveal

Do not treat it as an affliction
Have faith in your own conviction
That you know you still have the ability
Writers block is not the same as senility

MIND WARS

My mind is like a battlefield
Thoughts fighting to be revealed
An explosion inside my brain
I have scars from my last campaign

With thoughts that have to be said
And thoughts that should be dead
Playing a game of tug of war
The winner, expression to explore

Some thoughts there in my cranium
Are as deadly as enriched uranium
The mushrooming clouds my vision
With power of an atomic collision

In my skull the cross bone sign
Beware of mines, don’t cross the line
I must ensure that only the truth
Wins this fight of nail and tooth

Maybe I need a peace keeping force
A pill to pop or a therapy course
An internal conflict for the mending
My right to democracy defending

Silent Wishes & Secret Kisses

She is a Goddess of the silver screen
Every one of her movies I have seen
She’s such a beautiful Bollywood Diva
And I have little chance to ever meet her
For I am a lowly vendor of sugared chi
With nothing about me to catch her eye
I have many pictures of her on by wall
Hours spent gazing upon them all
There’s a poster of her pasted high
Behind my stall in central Mumbai
Every day I raise my eyes above
I can not openly display my love
I just have my recurring dream
Where I’m a hero, and in the final scene
I rescue her from a villain’s evil intention
And in this fantasy of my own invention
She loses her heart to me alone
The happiest ending I’ve ever known
But alas I wake up to reality
Knowing that it could never be
But I’m allowed my silent wishes
And the thoughts of secret kisses

A NEW DAY DAWNING

The sun appears at the edge of our world
Opens her lips and smiles her light
Morning has arrived, gone the starry night
Once again dormant life unfurls
Plants and insects clear their eyes
As a new cycle of life is dawning
Night has given way to morning
Many sleepy flowers uncurl and rise
With the coming of the giving rays
Butterflies dry out their outspread wings
In a far off branch a black bird sings
Ladybirds on pearlescent petals laze
Crickets jumping transient shadows
That move with the passing of time
Ants filing up a leaf in a military line
Lizards rustling, hidden in hedgerows
Beetles of shimmering iridescence
Shake a leg or two or four or five
Showing happiness at being alive
With sounds of varied cadence
The spiders repair their broken webs
Frogs croak as their tadpoles swim
The cobra displays “I’m the King”
And roses raise their colourful heads
All so happy that its morning
In awe of this brand new dawning

HE-MAN COWARDS

I feel anger for a man who thinks like this
That he gains respect with his iron fist
Who beats his wife over all or nothing
Forgets where he placed his wedding ring
His strength is there to forever defend her
And not for playing the big pretender
In public smiles and holding hands
In private blatant punches he lands
She tells the doctor she fell down stairs
“He didn’t hit me” she always swears
Now it’s her, that’s acting defender
To him she will always surrender
Through thick through thin or on the edge
He forgets that when he made his pledge
To have and to hold and forever cherish
Is different than “do what I say or perish”
He treats his wife with utter disgust
Uses her only to satisfy his selfish lust
Men like this are cowards, they live on the border
Between sanity and an acute brain disorder
If a real man confronted him and told him he was vile
This privately hard man would turn and run a mile
For his wife something fundamental is sadly amiss
She is always the only loser in a situation like this
This is not a mere drop in the ocean
As men like these are not out in the open
The poor women have so much more to lose
So they just shut up and take all the abuse
These monsters are aware of these facts
So they continue with their violent acts
I do not know the answer, but I know the score
Something has to be done must amend a law
These women must be protected and assured a future
Offered help, to escape this physical and mental torture

The Colours Of My Love

From the first moment I saw your face
My eyes filled with a purple haze
From the first time I spoke to you
I blushed with a pinkish hue
Am I looking through rose coloured glasses
Or was I succeeding with my flirtatious passes
I decided to cut all the red tape
And trust fully in the hands of fate
You said that I was a very bold fellow
If I’m anything I’m certainly not yellow
I asked you to accompany me
On a trip to the azure sea
As we lay upon the golden sand
I reached and kissed ivory hand
The sky turned a disturbing black
Come my love we must hurry back
Next day under a still grey sky
I saw you with another guy
I was browned off, going green
Trying to fathom what I’d seen
Would the air turn to darkest blue
Will I have to fight this man over you
I went red when you said it was your brother
Now was the time to introduce you to my Mother
She was tickled pink that I had found a girl
Who she thought was a precious pearl
She whispered that we should wed
And share whatever lay ahead
I asked you on that very night
If you were prepared to wear a dress of white
And walk with me, the alabaster aisle
Your rose red lips formed a smile
Your answer gave me a honey glow
And I would be your forever beau
On that day under the sky so blue
The day we both said so true “I do”
You were more beautiful I have to say
Than your lilac, rose and lily bouquet

I MISSED YOU

Do you remember back in class
When I tried to make a pass
I wrote you a little note
“will you be mine” I wrote
I folded it into a paper dart
And directed it towards your heart
It just did a loop and landed on Andrew
I missed you

Then later when we arranged to meet
And I promised you a treat
We set a place we set a time
I would ask you then “will you be mine”
I was ready hours before, raring to go
And then the cursed bus was slow
Supposed to meet at one, I arrived at two
I missed you

Much later, in the cafe that night
I hoped you would not fight
Over a glass of claret wine
I asked “will you be mine”
I produced a diamond ring
So nervous I dropped the thing
It landed in your stew
I missed you

Married now for two full years
With much love and no tears
I’m so happy all the time
That I asked “will you be mine”
When you were away having our child
I remembered how you smiled
While my love for you just grew
I missed you
But I still get a smile and a wink from Andrew

I THE COCONUT

I have found a beach not far from me
Pure white sand and a crystal sea
A wonderful place to just unwind
And leave all stresses of work behind

I watch the waves as they ebb and flow
The pace of life, it seems so slow
A Coconut tumbles in and out
Almost lands then turns about

Is this a local nut, has it been here before
Or did it journey here from a far off shore
I think of the places it may have been
All the exotic places it could have seen

I wonder how many oceans it has crossed
But here I feel that it’s looking lost
I pick it up, I throw, with all my might
Across the waves and out of sight

It passes over the first wave spray
And it so very slowly drifts away
Places unknown for it to travel
A mystery for my mind to unravel

I lay down with my feet in the sea
Envying this nut, that I’d set free
There dreaming with my eyes tight shut
I now became this fortunate lucky Coconut

The Last Predator

The Eagle flies with crooked claw
Five hundred metres from the shore
Eyes scanning all around
Soaring high without a sound

The Tiger in its forest lair
Silently hiding, tasting the air
With all its inherited skills
It stalks and it silently kills

The Shark below in ocean blue
Searching for the isolated few
It uses its highly tuned senses
To catch quarry without defences

The Snake in its hide of grass
Waiting for Its prey to pass
With its swaying hypnotic dance
It leaves its prey with little chance

The Man with power of production
Builds bombs of great destruction
Leaving nothing in its quake
No Man no Eagle no Tiger no Shark no Snake

FOOTPRINTS

Do you remember that day so long ago
When time passed by so tranquil so slow
On that beach, where I suggested Hide and Seek
You ran off leaving me with just a peck on the cheek
Do you remember I found you right away
I noticed your annoyance but you did not say
You questioned how I found you as we laid there in the sand
I did not answer, I just smiled and kissed your tiny hand
Now I must tell you after so many splendid years
Years of joy, years of love of sad and happy tears
It wasn’t your breathing your rustling you didn’t make a sound
I just followed your tiny footprints right there on the ground
I’m telling you now as the days get shorter, the years speed past
This recollection has helped in its way to make our marriage last
For every time we fall out or argue over many different things
In my heart and in my soul this memory loudly sings
As I always recall those footprints on the ground
And the everlasting love that we so surely found
With the sorrow the pain the anguish we’ve been through
These tiny footprints again and again, have led me back to you

Of Wonderful Magical Things

Do you have things just things secreted in a box a drawer
Little things, these little things, do you need them anymore?
A rubber band a paper clip the ribbon that once bound
The letters from love you lost or of love you recently found
An Airline ticket stub, memory of your first trip abroad
Restaurant or theatre receipt, something that you adored
A button a bow you kept, from that crimson dress
The one you wore that night, intention to impress
A faded photograph relives, those salad days of youth
Your Daughters curly lock, your Sons very first tooth
Old calling cards with numbers, hand written on the back
Memory failure here, who on earth is that?
A few watch strap links, your diet it was successful
Things just things memories of times less stressful
A broken fountain pen, you remember what it wrote
A letter a poem a book or simply a love note
We need this personal treasure-trove, and the pleasure that it brings
With all those memories stored therein of wonderful magical things

CROSSWORD PUZZLE

To curse or not to curse that is the question I’m posing
Whether I do or whether I don’t, of that I’m not disclosing
But it is a matter of fact, a matter of great distress
That ugly words are used, when angry and under stress
They just slip out, appear without any thought
Words your Mother would slap you for, If you were ever caught
If you were to say to the driver, who had just cut you up
Oh you naughty fellow, then you offer the loving cup
Would it have the same effect as these words you could shout
(Please use your imagination here I’m sure you’ll work it out)
Now may I offer a possible solution, something to keep you sane
Install a Blue air conditioning unit right there inside your brain
Or take an oath in front of all, I swear I’ll seldom swear.

THE BUS

Every morning at about the same time
The Bus pulls up below my window
With its noisy engine humming
The noxious fumes, they invade my space
My eyes are full of tears
My nose will not stop running
I hate this Bus and what it brings
I watch it leave, crab down the street
In a cloud of its own pollution

Today it is a different story for in my hand
I have a ticket a pass a token for a journey
This morning I will take a seat upon this bus
I’m filled with trepidation
As in my head I have maligned this bus
Will it pay me back, will it reach its destination
We wind the roads we climb the hills
We park up in a clearing

I walk a path, I wend my way, through the dappled light
Before me a magnificent vista opens up
My eyes opened on such a beautiful sight
A pond of crystal clarity. A cascade of healing power
A Kingfisher in all its resplendent glory
Dove into this tranquil pond intent on catching prey
A million sparkling diamonds shimmered in its entry spray
The songbirds harmonising with the frogs
The sunlight through the leaves of trees
Gave the air a mesmerising glimmer
I saw the beauty of a spiders web
That had captured more mist than flies
If this could be the afterlife
I would never fear of my demise

Every morning at about the same time
The Bus pulls up below my window
The fumes a pleasant reminder
I feel now that I love this Bus
As tears invade my eyes
This Bus, this Bus it had shown me paradise

Months passed they unfolded into years
I often thought of that magical place but never did go back
The bus was my only reminder
The bus still stopped outside
But now it held no fears
I picked up my stick I combed my snow white hair
I use this bus to take me anywhere
All I heard was the shattering of glass
The aroma of burning rubber
A Kingfisher showed me the light
A million diamonds shinning bright
The Bus the Bus had returned me to paradise

PEPPERONI PIZZA (WITH EXTRA CHEESE)

With everything we have we want a little bit more
There’s three in a packet we think we need four
Keeping up with the people living next door
We have what we need but have to have more

Life does not change, we are all the same
To have more than we need, it’s always our aim
Never content, it’s such a shame
Whatever we think we’re all the same

We order Pepperoni pizza with extra cheese
We need that pepperoni pizza, we need that cheese
We open up our mouths and we stuff it in
Extra cheese dripping down our chin
Half the world is living shit or bust
And we scrape off the cheese and we leave the crust

Just think before ordering that extra cheese
That millions are existing on their knees
Never had luxury never known peace
Never seen a pizza never had cheese

© Ray Gorringe 2009

UNDER THAT BANYAN TREE

Picture Taken By Martin Coombes







Whilst out walking I spied this man musing in quiet repose
What thoughts lay in his head, ones that he only knows
Did he care that his shoes were odd, his snowy beard unshaven
In the shade of that Banyan tree content in his private haven
For a moment I despised this man, was it jealousy
How I wished that I were he, under that Banyan tree

I would turn away, I would leave this man in his blissful state of reflection
Where would he be, where would I be if we had followed a different direction
Was he happy was he content, this of myself I have pondered
The truth, this perceived reality would have to remain unanswered
Was he merely passing the time in the knowledge that he were free
For just a moment we were we, under that Banyan tree

I glanced down upon his face to see, this man he had awoken
I noticed in his sunken eyes thoughts best left unspoken
There I saw grief, I saw loss, his body scarred from physical labour
Realisation, then pierced my heart with the force of an invisible sabre
I noticed there in his eyes that familiar despise, was it jealousy
Did he wish that he were me, under that Banyan tree

HOURGLASS FIGURE

You’re given an hourglass, sealed upon your birth
So few grains, through a predefined girth
Sealed in destiny, defining your time on this earth
Until you fall from your precarious perch

If this hourglass were a tangible thing
Would you allow the fat lady a stage sing
Would you try to count the grains therein
Knowing your fate and what it would bring

Identify and isolate that last grain of sand
Keep it secure in your sweating hand
Heat it, bruise it and make it expand
So it will not go through to the promised land

Our destiny is pre-planned to a higher design
We have no say, we can not decline
We can not condemn we can not malign
We must accept the passing of the sands of time
Ray Gorring 2009

Dẻjả vu

Mr Politician have we not heard that before
The exact words spoken we can not recall
Something to do with a change in the law
That would improve conditions for one and all

Did we not here this prior to casting our vote
Placing our cross in the box next to your name
Trust and belief, here stands a man of note
Time has past and you are Just the same

No difference from the others who came and went
For when you submitted your policy docket
We weren’t in the equation as you were hell bent
On using false promises to line your pocket

You gave us hope that things would change
We hoped, we expected so much more from you
Hoped our living conditions would rearrange
But now we only suffer from Dẻjả vu

POEM POEM

Poetry’s a medium for expressing your soul
Expressing your heart expressing your whole
Use words like brush strokes to release your mind
Put your pen to the paper and you will find
That a Thesaurus lays hidden inside your head
Don’t have the word find another instead
Everyone has a life, with a story to tell
Be it Past the Present the future as well
If you find that your words look strange
Play with them change them and rearrange
No person should judge you for what you write
But don’t be foolish and make sure that you are right
There’s a lot in our minds, should never be said
Bury them burn them make sure their dead
Choose a subject a topic a feeling a theme
An emotion an experience or something you’ve seen
Love, well there’s a good place to start
How does it go? Till death do us part
Poetry is ageless, classless, borderless, limitless
Fearless, restless, timeless but above all priceless
So if you think it and feel it, it has to be said
Your hunger for expression just has to be fed

MY MOTHER R.I.P.

The phone rang in the middle of the night
But phones don’t ring then, a feeling of fright
Is that Ray said the voice on the line
A quiet voice, a nice voice thought all was fine
This is the Hospital my heart missed a beat
Goose pimples appeared from my head to my feet
You had better come, please come right away
Worried now what more would she say
It’s a heart attack I’m afraid your Mother is dyeing
Before the phone disconnected I was crying
I should not have driven that starless night
I struggled for vision with tear filled sight
Entering the Hospital which way to the ward
Where is my Mother to a nurse I implored
I was warned at the entrance, It won’t be long
For the sake of my Mother I must appear strong
Tears had subsided, I still felt their embrace
But only concern should show on my face
She was sleeping as I approached her side
Wires, Tubes, bottles and a pulsating light
Is this my Mother have they made a mistake
Let it be true for both of our sake
But no it was my Mother I recognised her face
A fact a truth of which I could not erase
I wrapped my arms around her and I pressed her to my heart
She knew it was me and she woke up with a start
She looked into my pleading eyes a smile for me to see
I’m alright now you are here, I knew she’d wait for me
This moment was lost in the sound of alarms
As my Mother sweet Mother died in my arms
I realised then that we all must die
She was at peace and so was I
Mother Mother R.I.P.

I like Sunsets ! At the end of the day they cheer you up.

Just a little anecdote from my Hospital visit this morning

I have been suffering for a while now with very bad migraines and have to visit a kindly Doctor at the local Hospital. This Doctor is also a Psychiatrist and the waiting room is always full of some weird and strange characters who quite often want to engage in conversation with a foreigner , so I tend to keep my head down and try not to make eye contact with anyone until I am called into the surgery. Well today was just a little different as I had sat just one seat away from a very beautiful young Hindu mother and her small daughter. Eye contact was made but nothing said so I returned to my normal posture of I’m not here so don’t talk to me. Then I noticed in the corner of my eye a hand reaching out to touch my arm gently, I looked up and she stared straight into my eyes and said “what world do you come from” After I had stopped laughing, (which I think embarrassed her a little) and bearing in mind the section of the Hospital that I was in, I corrected her, saying that what she meant to say was “what part of the world do you come from” and telling her that I am from England. Her reply was on the lines of “Oh I do love the English”. Another little chuckle, as my mind worked overtime. Is that English people or the language I asked, she replied, realising what she had said and almost apologetically said “the language”. During our brief conversation she told me that she comes from a small village community and finds it very hard to learn English as she is not allowed access to English books and no one in her immediate surroundings speaks it at all. She was proud to tell me that her small daughter was a grade 1 student and English was part of her curriculum. I turned to the little girl and asked “how are you” and she replied in perfect English “ I am fine thank you” The look of sheer pride on her mothers face was a picture that I would have loved to have captured.
Another thing I discovered from this highly intellgent youg lady was that she was also suffering Migraine so there is two things we have in common