O’ Bag a Bones

O’ Bag a Bones O’ bag a bones does thou lie t’ me? Now I recognise thee on waking, thee I Know, Does’t thou recognise waking me? O’ bag a bones thy life so fancy, thy story Well told, again and again thy rymes unfold, each Passing second, each fanciful hour thy Tale weaves another

Sleepy Head

Sleep Sleep, sleep and rest your time filled head, rest Easy in your time liberated dreams. Dance, dance, Flow with the rhythm of life’s dream-time, before Simple me arises again with the morning sun. © David R. Durham To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Entrances & Exits

Tell me Mr. Doorman, what shall I pay you To keep the world at bay? The other world, That other place, you know which one I mean. Tell me Mr. Gatekeeper, what fee must I pay to let me pass this way? A long Forbidden path, you know the one I mean. © David R.

Time

Time Has no edges, stacked, unstacked, leave behind, Now moving ahead, we flow unconsciously. No way to change direction, we imagine other Paths, dream in vain of other happier times. Onward tumbling we go, no rest or pause, A parachutist’s committed descent, body And soul, until Death adds a final full-stop, Untwined once more, tiny

Big Blue Yonder

Big Blue Yonder You hope to meet me in a distant heavenly tomorrow; A kettle starts to boil. You catch a glimpse of my face in the moon and stars; Letters drop through the door. You call for me in your darkest, loneliest hours; My shirt it smells fresh, newly washed. You find brief respite

Cafe Style

Cafe Style Blind rules didn’t necessarily Mean too much to him, he skiffled And shuffled up and down the stairs. His rough worn manual labour hands, Are gripping, floating, rubbing, flirting With polished grained wooden rail. He seldom looked down, his sure Falling feet finding their usual Well rehearsed home trodden place. © David R.

The Journey

The journey begins, upsidedown Weather, foul beeze wrapping round me Solid thighs. Horn calls clatter Of’d starboard bow, caught in taught Fever of blue cold mornin’ rush-hour. © David R. Durham To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Leaves & Snow

Circumscribed by her warm smile, Feelings of comfort, memories of Home flutter, falling falling with Winters’ white grace. © David R. Durham To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Winter Reeds

The Words Come Softly The words come softly; At the break of the day. The words come softly; And speak of fears they want to slay. The words come softly; Union is forever they say. The words come softly; Who’s words, who’s thoughts come today? The words come softly; When Spirit comes our way. The

Slumbering Memories

  Slumbering giants soft reverie mellows In winter’s slanting rays, whispers whispers Of spring’s future unfolding green pleasures.   © David R. Durham To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.

Rural Simplicity

Rural Simplicity The natural order rests in rural peace, There is no strain no forced modern pace.     © David R. Durham To receive Blog updates, click on the +Follow on your screen.