Before Halloween there was …


Overshadowed by US show,

Slowly waning yet you know…

Remembered in my child’s eye,

The homemade doll, the painted guy,

The wheelbarrows in which he dwelt,

The schoolboy hands in search of gelt.

All running to the shop to buy

The fireworks gleaned from crafted guys.

Pennies gleaming in the bowl,

Rockets wedged within a hole.

Bonfires burning, guy discarded,

To the flames he’s now departed.

Till again small hands will forge,

An image of old England’s gorge.

(November 5th is Guy Fawkes Night in England. For my non English readers it remembers a failed plot to blow up the houses of parliament in which children made images of Guy Fawkes (the ring leader) and paraded around with them prior to Nov. 5th. collecting money for their efforts, used  to buy fireworks. The guys would then be ceremonially burnt on a communal or backyard bonfire to the accompaniment of fireworks, mimicking the hidden barrels of gun powder exploding.)


All has its day.


Seasons come and go
Each a special flavor,
Marking out the times within my span,
Summer departs, the glory of sunshine,
Still water and gentle breezes dims.
Flowers fade.
Seeds disperse, ensuring the next generation.
I recall seasons long past,
Indulge nostalgia
When together we dreamed of peace.
I must not linger in summer,
But divest myself of its joys,
Put on longer sleeves,
Turn thoughts to warm heaters, hot chocolate…
Embrace each season’s splendor
Watch for the red tints (I know where they grow)
Kick the leaves,
Enjoy the new swishing songs.
Not mourn the loss of summer,
Embrace always things to come
Even so is life.

The eternal walk.


Time walks on unencumbered,
Naught can ease its steps
No barrier formed delay it,
It no tearful entreaty accepts.
Sometimes we are dragged on behind it
Sometimes we push to the fore,
But nothing my friend can dissuade it
I know for I’ve tried it before.
The wise will see where it’s heading
Prepare themselves for the roles
They’ll see where their feet will be treading
On sweet scented grass or hot coals.

A song in the rain.


Sometimes our days are sunny, soft clouds bedeck the sky,
The path we take is easy, our spirits fly on high.
But some days it is raining, the clouds all black and grey,
Come rolling in beside us and soon disrupt our day.
Then let your voice rise upward and reach beyond the mist,
And find the sun there shining in golden lines amidst.
Embrace the tiny song bird as it sits within the rain,
Knowing in its feathered heart the sun will shine again.

The upward look.


When days are dull and dreary, the colours unrefined,

When faces are not cheery, a smile hard to find.

Then take a look within you as spirits start to soar

The sun above is shining though you don’t see it anymore.

Love is always waiting to take you in its arms,

It’s just the clouds get in between to keep you from its charms.

(Photo from bing images)

Eternal imagery


I’ve often cause to wonder, when in lucid dreams I stray,
I seem as always I have felt,
The rounded chin, the wrinkles melt.
This other self in dreams appears still young and slim today?

No. More than this.
Though it’s me, yet bones more slight, the eyes more free,
Familiar as a glance may be, me … yet not me.

“Why?” I ask.
A dream voice answers, clear as a bell.
“You’re in disguise, ’tis but a shell.”
I ponder then upon my bed disguises others bear.

The crippled form, the ugly face,
May one day be interfaced
True beauty hid within a husk
That one day shall be turned to dust.
On that day we shall see.
Just what was hid from you and me.

Old Friends.


From December 2014. Wishing you all great joy in your pre Christmas parties and merry making.

Song Bird Songs

old folks

(Of far flung friends I seldom see – photo from bing).

It’s oh so good to see them when parted oh so long,
The hugs and friendly greetings that lend the heart a song.
The smile that bares a tremble, the tear that dims the eye,
The subtle, soft, remembrance of days that have gone by.

It seems too much to soak it in when love floats all around,
Another, yet another, of times voices coming round.
The smiles now bare more wrinkles than when you knew them first,
But time and tide can not erase; the spirit from them bursts.

And all are in remembrance of sweet times so long gone by
The times when we were young and free and we had fun, oh my!
I hear now in the echoes of vintages grown old
The hearts refined in times harsh hand have turned at last to gold.

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Materialism? Not for me.



He did not even own a bed,
He had no place to lay His head.
A cattle stall, His crib at birth,
He had no bank account on earth.
He laid the wealth of heaven down
For earthly rags, a thorny crown.
He passed the praise of angels by
And came where men cried, “Crucify!”
He left a throne for you and me
And bore our sins upon a tree.
So strong His claim, so clear His call,
How dare I give Him less than all?
Barbara C. Ryberg

Natures metronome.



Breathe in the pace of nature, the leaf that’s slow to curl

The bird’s song of the morning, the flowers that unfurl.

The pace mankind is keeping is far too fast to see

The beauty that surrounds him, the truth that could set free.

Up torn from nature’s rooting we stumble on our way,

A frantic timescale keeping until our dying day.

So quit the giant “rat race”, breathe in deep and see,

The life that you are living ‘snot what’s cracked up to be.

The soul that is within you was not made for this pace,

So leave it all behind you and go and find some space.


Life’s Gamble.


(from September 2014)

Song Bird Songs

sp. warfare

The dice thrown down determines who shall enter on this day

Into the jaws of trial, and who shall guide the way

As swords are drawn in battle and to foul purpose lent

The Devil’s here incarnate the veil it has been rent.

He throws his die upon the earth upon foul purpose bent

The moments pass, his prey consumed. Can this be what was meant?

No, who shall counter in this game? Who shall stand before

The one that hell’s afflicted and guide them to the door?

Who will grasp unto the light and in its presence bare

The one entrapped, and squirming, just who will help them there?

God enters in upon the fray as in His hand He holds

A soldier armed in dread array His purpose to unfold.

He dare not lose for in his hand God placed the thread of life

Which once He gave…

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