The very word itself is inspiring; it conjures up in my mind a world of infinite wonders that I can only marvel at. Wonders that my head remind me that nature does not revolve around me, but around a vast universe of possibility. For whether I acknowledge it or not, Mother Nature and all her diverse energies will continue to exist long after I have evaporated into the sand of earthly time. She will continue to vibrate at her own frequency ever evolving and enhancing her beauty until she metamorphosis into the star she is meant to be.
The poems and writings on this site and within my books are purposely simple and are meant as building blocks to deeper thoughts (yours not mine). They are reminders of things that in time have been overlooked or forgotten.
Please accept these little ramblings as signposts to the world you might have left behind in the innocence of yesterday
Washed Sand November P.O.M.
Washed Sand
Who am I that stain the sand
Whose every footprint mark this land
For as my breath invites the day
In idle thoughts I drift away
I gaze behind to see my path
As in real time the sea it laps
But when at last in full retreat
I search to find my footprints neat
The sand is smooth like as before
It’s then I know I’m nothing more
Than just a grain of sand
For who am I that breaks the corn
As through its passage I am borne
Whose very motion in display
Pushes all the husks away
Who answers not to every breeze
And seems to wander as he please
Until at last I look behind
At waving corn again to find
My path is closed from every view
It’s then I know it’s nothing new
I’m just a husk of corn
For who am I that parts the sky
To dance with clouds as they pass by
Who’s every shout like thunder roars
To lighten up the nights applause
I savour each and every sigh
As birds upon the mist drift by
And snowy flakes in spinning curl
Release a whiteness to unfurl
But where am I in all these things
Did nature really give me wings
Its then I know without surprise
As I look back across the skies
I’m just a drop of rain
The Garden Invader
There’s a squirrel in my garden
And its eating all my nuts
Hanging from the feeder
In a way that I don’t trust
The pigeons in their numbers
Simply stand and stare
And watch their morning breakfast
Vanish in thin air
That bushy tailed invader
Really does not care
For it just keeps right on eating
All the nuts that’s hanging there
It’s acrobat endeavor seem to be a feat
That mesmerizes pigeons as they waddle with empty beaks
A cat in stalking presents looks on as if beguiled
While watching that hanging squirrel
That seems swing in style
At last it notes my presence
And makes for it’s a escape
With a belly full of peanuts
That no one said it could take.
PTT
Thought to Ponder – The greenest home is the one you don’t build. If you really want to save the Earth, move in with another family and share a house that’s already built. Better yet, live in the forest and eat whatever the squirrels don’t want. Scott Adams
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I have a firm belief in angels and feel them around me all of the time, especially when I need an extra bit of help in making decisions
Also, as I get older, I have a much better appreciation of the beauty of Mother Nature and enjoy nothing more than to sit in my garden and let her overwhelm me with her many gifts
The poems and writings on this website are reflections of my thoughts on various subjects, as they wander through my mind
I always find your poems so refreshing and indeed relaxing. When life becomes a whirl and gets too fast to cope with I just ‘fix’ myself by reading what you bring forward. Indeed a great tonic for me. Thank you Phil x
Thank you Phil for bringing memories forward and knowledge that everything and everyone is just a thought away !
Hi Phil,
loving your work!
Hi Tracy Sorry I didn’t reply sooner. I hope you and your lovely family are well. I only go into my website on a Wednesday as a rule to update it. The website has a good following and it’s nice that you enjoy my simple poems. x