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A wakening 1973

In steamy shimmering steely blue
the lake's for sailing boats and crew
between the rolling downs
of nature's lush green gowns.

Peace is broken by sails a-flapping
freedom seen in birds on wing.
Hearken to the happy sound
of healthy, free and happy hound

and overhead a silver bird
who feels that he just must be heard,
as he comes round to sink and land
and disgorge folk from foreign sand.

Silence returns but not for long
for now a bumble-bee in song
goes buzzing by searching for...what?
The life he's after I ain't got!

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Frontiers

Frontiers brood fears...
what is over there?
We all want to get to know
but none of us dare.

Border post, border post
must you stand alone
while the rival king sits back
on his rival throne?

Dark line, black line
marking nomanzland;
keeping Earth in little bits
I can't understand.

So near, so dear
are these foreign lands.
Why must rulers keep us out
with their steel-clad hands?

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Have You Thanked A Tree Today?

Have you thanked a tree today?
It stands all alone.
For many years it's stood that way -
Stop! ...and hear one groan.

A massive tree stands there and breathes,
depolluting air.
Coloured birds sing midst its leaves
and others nestle there,
and elves and gnomes live in there too
just as for many years;
though they shy clear of me and you
for they too have their fears;

Fears of men who seem untrue,
who when afraid must kill...
who often destroy life quite new,
to suit their fickle will.

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King's Road 1973

A quiet, peaceful country lane
cuts through pastures green.
A footpath only on one side
no trace of rubber sheen,

and on each side a five-foot wall
built long ago of stone;
so long in fact that grass and trees
have all the way through grown.

Then on a peaceful summer day
the road in colour blooms
as young and old in bright fresh garb
venture out of their rooms.

Couples come up from in front
whilst others stroll behind;
they stop and listen to the day
- who knows what they might find?

'Midst stories new and memories old
this road for freedom stands,
for Bonnie Charlie rode this way
when hunted through his lands.

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Local Regatta

A paradise inside a town,
far cry from city life;
the sudden call of a ship's bell
cuts peace thru like a knife.

And to that call the yachts come in,
home to their mooring places.
A flare of sails, a sudden din
and many sweating faces.

The race is o'er - the people go
back to the other race
of life within the system so
that they can maintain face.

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Spring So Sweet

I woke this morning and springtime was here,
looked out the window on skies blue and clear:
I harkened the birds which were yodelling so near,
the spring and the music filled me with great cheer,

The skies are bright blue and up there is the sun.
Now we can see what the winter has done -
it chilled our bones but could not stop our fun
and now at last a new life has begun.

The time is now here to say "'Bye!" to the freeze.
Come! Hear the birds singing high in the trees!
Drag out the boats and set sail on the seas;
right now's the time to get sun on your knees.

People are walking with bounce in their feet,
spring in their hearts makes the lasses look neat.
Let us step out to a life that is sweet
and with our fellow men summer we'll greet.

Winter has gone though when here it was long.
Let's join the larks and break out into song.
Sing for the summer; let's haste it along...
sing for your life in whatever's your tongue.

The Age of Aquarius is here now today,
time for us all to be happy and gay.
Come to the country and watch flowers play
as they all spring up alongside the way.

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The Road

The road is hard and very long
and that is why I sing my song.
Strolling down the tarmac way
my mind begins to play a lay.

The song I'm singing in a dream;
hark the words - What a scream!
As I stroll by this lamp-post...
Lo! My eyes behold a host
of golden dandelions...
(Boy, these words are try-ons!!)

On and on the road would fly
straight as a die into the sky
but for the important fact
that the surface is tarmact
(which is heavier than air)
and I would get quite a scare
if it took off.
Ahem! Cough, cough!! I'll put my pen down.

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The Town

Trees are blowing in the gale
that brings the winter chill.
I take the eerie forest trail,
experience a nightmare thrill.

The leaves above are all a-shiver;
my heart will surely fail
if Robin Hood now, with his quiver,
steps out here on to the trail.

A path I pick so carefully
down among the trees,
taking care while I'm so free
that I don't slither on my knees;

the trail is beat from silv'ry leaves,
earth and dying bracken brown.
Filled with fresh air my chest heaves
now that I'm out of the town.

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