The Meeting

There she stands at the bus stop,

Quiet, serene, without a care.

Every day, come wind or shine,

There she stands, blue eyes, blond hair.

Here I stand, in shop window

Where I’m found `tween eight and nine

Just so I, can be ready

To see this beauty, princess of mine.

Of course of me, she knows nothing,

Never looking up to see,

Me just stand there, in time waiting,

Maybe one day, she’ll notice me.

It is quite odd, what she is wearing,

Nice blue skirt, and yellow top,

Just the same as I was dressing

The plastic model, in the shop.

Dose this mean that I have been noticed,

Or is it just another dream.

No a smile, and now she’s waving,

Perhaps we will now, make a team.

Now made contact, “will you come?

For a cocktail” she has asked.

“Love too”, is my answer given,

A dream come true, for me at last.

Now 12:40 soon be one,

I must be quick, keep steady.

Just the time for hair and coat,

Lipstick, bag, and ready…….

Spring In The Hills

A lark of the sky

A lark in the sky is a song on the wind

She’s a voice of good cheer to say that all is quite well

A voice that is higher than all that’s around.

Louder and louder as she rises so true

Up and up till she just disappears

A song that’s from nowhere

Just a place in the blue.

A song that stays still know no matter the wind

He can’t blow her away

With all it strength that he brings.

Then, as with life, she can suddenly stop

And just like a stone, can suddenly drop

Drop to a place that is rough and unkind

And all that is left is the silence of rhyme

Then like a phoenix, or was it just thought

Raises again to tremendous aplomb

Rising up upon high with new song in her heart.

This small little bird that’s larger then life

Brings cheer to my heart when ever I hear

The sweet sound of this bird that’s flying on high

This must be why she’s called

A lark of the sky

I.Trenor

Eaton Socon St.Mary`s Church

Out Side The Old Church

Inside The Old Church

After The Fire

Tapestry

Saved Window

Reflections Of ...........

Butterfly’s Blessing

Butterfly’s Blessing

May your wings feel the warmth of the sun
as your life’s now begun
Let your hart be light as breeze
The breeze that carries you so high with ease
Never stop your tireless voyage
And you will have forever courage

Cromer Sunrise

Konik Ponys Wicken Fen

Today

Today

Today a beautiful day
lets sit by the steam and play
I can make you a boat if you make me a hat
well be pirates, what do you think of that?

Sunsets on our warm warm day,
clouds chased away the blues.
Sweetly smells the newly mown hay
while the humming birds drink in the dew.

I see him standing at the stream where we used to play
now he takes my hand so gently
and leads me to a stump
We sit and enjoy the calm of the night and dream of what’s to come.

In our old age we wander to this stream remembering its magic
we listen as it speaks to us
come play again it seems to say for too soon the time will end.
Remember what we used to play and I was your best friend.

As children we played on the banks
we had hours of fun
we fished and hunted for the carps

and caught the crawdads small

eternal life does call
as now my hand you take
I see the gate opening for us
this new path we will make.

April Jamaleddine

Flashman Society

Walk With Me

Walk with me

Walk with me across the page
As we go forward through the age
Your space seems vast between the lines
I hope it brings us happy times

Oh my diary come with me
As the future we will see
I will try to confess all
But afraid that I may stall

Please dear diary stay with me
Convince me to show you what I see
If I don’t show you what’s in my heart
If I shut the page and keep you dark

You must rebel and make me write
Good and bad, and all my plight
Together we, will walk tall
Come my diary, lets conquer all

ian trenor

Christmas Dinner

poppy

This is a special poem written ( not by me )

about a very special man………


Thomas Traynor

It was early, early on a Monday morn`
As the birds all sang in the fresh of dawn,
On a Monday morning on the gallows high.
Brave Thomas Traynor was led to die.

Led forth to die in his manhood prime,
No flag did flutter, no bell did chime,
But the rosary spoken, came sweet and clear
From the people all gathered round the jail gate near.

Let my loving wife neither weep or sigh,
For Ireland’s sake I am proud to die,
I am proud to die. Though my children dear
A fathers voice never more shall hear.

Fight not for vengeance when I am dead,
Nor from duties path let your minds be led,
But fight for freedom, for the cause I die,
And place your trust in the great God on high.

Like music soft on the morning air
The peoples voice risesin murmured prayer,
The bolt is drawn, tight the fatal cord,
Thomas Traynor`s soul is now safe with God.

The sacrifice for his land made,
In the prison grounds is his body laid
With the sainted martyrs of liberty
Who died that old Ireland night soon be free.