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Some of my Poems & Short Stories

I have already added one poem in previous pages but thought people might like to see more.  In the coming weeks & months, I'll add some short stories etc.

Silken Amber Prison...

Raven Haired Princess in her Silken Amber Prison of Lies & Deceit...
Frozen Icicles surround her Hands, her Toes, her Heart & her Feet...
Looking out into the Wilderness of Freedom,
Longing for Love,
Longing for Passion,
Longing for Eternal Heat…..

Snow Crystals Chill & Dampen her Silver Orchid Dress;
Chill & Dampen her Hair & Skin,
Chill & Dampen her Hopes & her Dreams...

Raven Haired Princess longing to escape her Silken Amber Prison of Lies & Deceit...


At the age of seven you first saw the fog.
At the age of eleven all you could see was fog.

And there was no-one to help you. 

Who could help? Your mother? Your father? Fog is all around them; your mother hasn't seen the light for a very long time.
Your brother? Even though he lives in the room across the hall, he had left home a very long time ago.
Your teachers? How could they help? With a class of thirty - two, how could they even notice you?

You can’t escape fog, no window or door can hold back fog.
And once fog has entered your room, it leaves its scent all around.
Fog leaves your clothes and sheets feeling damp, your pillowcase smelling of mould.

Fog comes and never lets the light in again.
Fog is cold and wet.
Fog is thick and dense.
Fog is all around you.
Fog is like watching the world through tears, but the salt stings on the inside.

And one day fog is all there is.

At the age of seven you first saw the fog, at the age of eleven all you could see was fog and at the age of sixteen you decided there was nothing left to see.

The Swan, The Dove and The Kestrel

The Swan lifts her head and sees The Dove hovering above her in the mid-day light.
The Dove looks down and sees The Swan floating on the pond, sparkling and bright.
The Dove asks The Swan “Why do I never see you take flight?”
The Swan answers “Because I like to float on my pond in the mid-day light.”
The Dove continues “But you are a bird do you not want to see every sight?”
The Swan looks up again and smiles, “I see what I need to see from my little pond, either daytime or night.”
The Dove moves closer to The Swans head, so smooth and perfectly white.
The Swan tucks her head into her wing and looks away for she knows the ritual of this daily sight.
All this time in a tree top The Kestrel is watching and listening, her eyes gleaming with delight.
She knows The Dove is silly and will soon take open flight.
The Dove, becoming bored, spreads her wings and heads for a greater height.
High above the pond and the tree tops The Dove giggles at The Swan, “look at her, all she does is float there on her pond in the mid-day light!”
The Swan, wise and knowledgeable, fears for The Doves inevitable plight.
The Kestrel waits for a moment for the clouds to hide her from sight.
Then moves into position and swoops on The Dove high in the mid-day light.
Her talons reach out at The Dove giving her a terrible fright.
The Dove tries to save herself, first swerving to the left and then to the right.
But The Kestrel is clever and powerful and her talons grab The Dove with great force and might.
Grey and white feathers float in the breeze drifting and swirling left and right.
The Swan can do nothing as The Doves feathers drop to the pond, lifeless in the mid-day light.
The Kestrel fly’s lower with The Doves limp body held so tight.
She calls down to The Swan, “The Dove wanted freedom but only a silly bird fly’s so high in the mid-day light”
The Swan knows The Kestrel is right.
The Swan looks away as she can not stand the ritual of this daily sight.
Life can be very short for those flying too high in the mid-day light.

Fear the Light of Day

Dark lonely shadows drifting silently through the stillness of the night.
Dark lonely shadows, whispering, come now, come toward the light.

What light I ask? What light is there for me? The light; I fail to see.

Shadows, dark & dreary,
Wrap around me like cold warmth, drifting far & near me.

Shadows, whose faces are hidden by the masks of past memory.
Shadows, whose cold frosty breath strangely warms me.
Shadows I know I should fear so why is it that the light makes me shed more than one tear?

Dark lonely shadows fill my sleepless, restless, nights.
Yet it is the day, the hour, the future I fear, it is the light.

Dark lonely shadows crying for yesterday, crying for today, crying for the morrow.
Shadows cold & still, painfully aware that it’s not the dark that breaks hearts & creates nightmares.
It’s not the dark that brings sorrow.

Sleepless, restless, on rare occasions even painless.

Quiet movement through the dark.
Blindly treading emotional water; day & night.

Dark, motionless, timeless shadows trying to draw me into the light.
Invisible doors close in front & lock behind.

Drifting lost, drifting through shadows, my only company endless delusion.
Sometimes hearing whispers there is light, peace, safety, a conclusion.

Fear not dark, fear not the night but the day, fear the light.

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