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Author: breda ware (Page 3 of 8)

Street Talk

STREET TALK

A ‘storm in a teacup’ trivial our tiff to you, sadly ’tis’ I’m that’s left ‘to stew’.
‘Water under the bridge’ ‘tant’ easy to say, while I’m left empty day after day.
‘Too blind to see’ the pain intentionally you inflicted on me, in a cruel attempt to ‘bring me to my knees’.
Caught ‘between a rock and a hard place’ what options are left for me?
‘Tis’ evident I’m ‘flogging a dead horse’ , best it’s left ‘to run its course’.
‘What goes around comes around’ that’s what they say,
I will be patient ‘I’ll have my day’.

Breda Ware

In My Dreams

 I saw you in my dreams last night,
Surrendering, no need to take flight.
You held me close so very tight,
Effortless, didn’t put up a fight.
Tenderly held with all your might,
Slumbering peacefully toward first light.
Looking on such a tranquil sight,
Fills my heart with pure delight.

Awoke by a blinding pure white light,
Desperate to seek the previous sight,
Of you cradling me through the night.
Arms flailing, jerking madly as a kite,
As I struggle with all my might.
To regain that sublime, precious sight.
Fearing the worst I take fright,
Backing away from that celestial light.

A gentle kiss you plant on tired eyes,
Instantly removed from that cruel demise.
The morning chorus from the early bird,
With much relief is clearly heard.
Listening to his joyful song,
Beneath the covers where I belong.

Breda Ware 

Ole McFly’s Flight

Ole McFly was a funny old guy,
A funny old guy was Ole McFly.
With a ticket tucked in a grubby flat cap,
Jacket fashioned from an old grain sack.
Sets off for the airport to take a flight,
Travelling through the dead of night.

Ole McFly was a strange old guy,
A strange old guy was Ole McFly.
Folk open mouthed stood and stared,
As he rode in astride his loyal mare.
Handing her over to Rose McFlay,
For the duration while he’s away.

Ole McFly that peculiar old guy,
A peculiar old guy was Ole McFly.
Didn’t hanker on long goodbyes,
He had no notion how to fly.
Luggage none; other than a sack,
Which he carried upon his back.

Ole McFly was a comely old guy,
A gentle old guy was Ole McFly.
With child like twinkle in his eye,
Watch’s in awe clouds passing by.
McMoucha awaits his arrival in a cart,
Eager for new adventures to start.

Breda Ware

 

Yuletide Joy

Look yonder at the church its steeple lit,
Wonder at the mystical white light it omits.
Enter through the ancient stained oak doors,
Pass carvings and paintings on walls.
Christmas carols are being sung,
The festive season has begun.
Faithful voices raised in joyful sound,
Smiles on faces, happiness all around.

The sun rising majestically from the east,
Seen glistening on the backs of flying geese.
Village appears bathed in a clandestine light,
Breathtaking sublime, all powerful sight.
Rabbits appear quietly from underground,
Frolic in snow drifts all around.
Christmas morning at last is here,
That extra special time of year.

Children jump eagerly from their beds,
No heed taken to what’s been said.
Parents tired from the night before,
Frantically dash for their bedroom door.
Not quick enough, they come tumbling in,
Exploding with excitement, what a din!
Nothing to do but join in the fun,
For Christmas time has just begun.

Breda Ware

Christmas Lost

I held your hand as we walked around,
Still wearing that ridiculous crown.
From out of the cracker along with a joke,
Reminding me how strange are folk.

A Christmas tree we’d come to buy,
Searching out with my beady eye.
A fine blue spruce straight and true,
Full figured, not skinny it will do.

Taking in smells, sights and sounds,
Sprigs of holly and mistletoe found.
Hot toddy sampled, not too bad!
At times this season makes me sad.

Family parties when I was young,
With neighbours, were so much fun.
Simple pleasures:
Forgotten all over, done.

Chestnuts on a brazier glowing red,
Reminds me that I’ve not been fed.
I settle for hot chocolate instead,
Nearly home it’s way past my bed.

I held your hand as we walked around,
Still wearing that ridiculous crown.
Sweet memories buried in the ground,
Silent, lost the seasons familiar sound.

Breda Ware

Dark Night

 Tramping along a winding path,
In the dead of night.
The full moon she follows me,
Shinning ghostly white.
Casting bright shafts, illuminating light.

Rabbit’s glazed eyes,
Feeding through the night.
In an instance hurriedly,
Scarper, bolt from sight.
Hind legs thump out warnings, with all their might.

Jack Frost casting his net upon the ground.
Stealth like encroaching,
Afghan fauna all around.
Underfoot producing a crunching, crisp sound.

A proud stag barks loudly for a mate.
I push on it’s getting late,
Climbing over a five bar gate.
Steadfastly on I go, ignoring the gently falling snow.

The deep dark forest,
Temptress, she beckons me.
Axe in my hand to source a fine tree.
Thieving mongrel,
That’s little ole me.

Breda Ware Continue reading

Four Seasons

Summer retreats in such a flurry,
Pastel petticoats assembled in a hurry.
Colours of vivid greens, yellow, lilacs and blue.
Warm days and barmy nights taken to renew.

Autumn’s ingress its sultry move,
Primed a performance in familiar mood.
Trees and fauna draped in velvet robes,
Colours of rich reds, chestnut, orange and gold

Winter generates an entrance with a bite,
Frosty mornings, snow, pure blinding white.
With grey dank days and bitter cold nights,
Logs on fires burning hot and bright.

Spring’s advent burst forth with all its might,
Awakening colours, reborn once more to delight.
Song birds on wing eager to return,
Green buds of new life appear, all around.

Breda Ware

 

Judas

Judge & Jury

Who are you to judge me, you sanctimonious ‘git’.
Bringing up the past like that, an underhanded trick.
How dare you be little me, do you take me to be that thick?
Making out your so perfect, your behaviour makes me sick.

I who gave loyalty and support, when life wasn’t treating you right.
Now all I get back from you, is anger, contempt and spite.
What on earth possessed you to want to pick a fight,
On such happy occasion, it simply wasn’t right.

No longer am I left feeling, inadequate second best.
You’ve made it perfectly clear, for the need to invest,
In preserving a one sided relationship, I sadly must confess,
For my own self preservation, must put to rest.

Your condescending attitude, quite frankly leaves me flat,
Dismayed and sadden that you’ve turned out as such a rat.
True colours exposed, laid out bare for all to see,
Others joy you reverted, as bitterness directly fired at me.

The rage and anger evidently within your head,
Planted there by others, willingly consumed, spoon fed.
All the while the organ grinder plays his tune,
While you the monkey are simply lead.

Now in the knowledge you love me less,
I have sadly accepted and addressed.
That remarks uttered and cruel words you have said,
Puts me in mind, you’d rather I was dead.

Breda Ware

My Love

My Love

With spiky hair and eyes that care,
How often I would smile and stare.
Ways in which you held your smoke,
A pleasure unknown to those that don’t.
Your walk; nay a stride,
Paced out with such pride.
I courted discreetly with my eye.
Gentle touch; condoned by others,
Openly embraced, we ‘came out’, as lovers.
Inseparable, too painful to be apart,
Chastised my foolish fluttering heart.
Alas; stolen by you from the start.
Pray we’re granted many more a year,
In which to cherish and hold; my dear.

Breda Ware

Blood Shot Eyes

Bloodshot Eyes

See how she sits in the onion field and cries,
People pass by unconcerned as to why;
In an onion field she sits and cries.

Has she lost someone? Maybe they’ve died,
Is that the reason? Only we can surmise why;
In an onion field she sits and cries.

What torments has she endured?
Fear and loneliness prominent in her eyes, why;
In an onion field she sits and cries.

No one is interested nothing is said,
About the voices in her head, or why;
In an onion field she sits and cries.

Breda Ware

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