An innocent man though charged was he
For crimes so vile too despicable to bear
But sentenced to servitude indefinite
Behind dark bars his now wasted life.
The Winter days dragged long and weary
Penetrating cold congealed his once pure heart
The hurt he felt, humiliation now complete
His need for revenge, or pride at least, restored.
He sat and waited and counted off the days
Till then his moment kept at length
But time would come when he would strike
And hurt, and life would be undone.
No more he’d take from them the crumbs of fear
The lies of those who for so many so little cared
Would be swept aside as the truth so brightly revealed
No wrong he’d done, as die he now would, his conscience clear.
His first thoughts were of jasmine for her elegant grace
And lovely hibiscus for her beautiful face.
He thought about hyacinths as she was so sincere
Yellow tulips, he was hopelessly in love it was clear.
The red roses he gathered for their passionate love
And forget-me-nots together till the heavens above.
He picked orange-blossom for the children she bore
With larkspur for her beautiful spirited core.
Her lack of desire for great wealth to unfold
Meant he put to one side any marigold
He sprinkled them with daisies for her innocence
Adding some black-eyed Susan for encouragement
Then he wrapped them all up in a very large mass
Of beautiful gardenias for a joy that will last.
The small stone fell from a ledge
in a study somewhere
and dropped into a travel bag.
Later the bag was picked up and carried away.
Much later still it was put in a car
being placed on the back seat. The car was
then driven to a port where it was taken off
the seat of the car and carried on-board
a cruise ship. The cruise ship was about
to sail up the Norwegian Fjords. It sailed
there quite frequently, though not
exclusively as it also sailed
around the Mediterranean Sea.
The bag was taken to and placed in
one of the luxurious staterooms.The
owner of the bag and her husband
were celebrating an important event
by enjoying a journey that they had
always promised themselves. The bag
eventually ended up on the deck as the
husband had fetched it for his wife
for an object that it contained. In
getting that thing out, the small
stone got caught up in it somehow
and was pulled out of the bag and
fell onto the deck of the ship,
whereupon it started to roll about.
Ultimately the stone found its way
to the stairs down to the lower deck
where it found a gap to lodge in. The
cruise ship sailed into the fjords
during a sudden heavy storm causing
much turbulence not only on the ship
but in a number of the passengers
stomachs, one of whom, a drinking man
I chance, could not contain himself,
and he was violently sick. The storm
abated however, and all was well.
A crewman took on the task of
cleaning up after the apparently
bibulous gentleman and washed down
the deck, and in doing so, washed
the small stone through a gap,
specially there for the deck washing
purpose, and into the fjord whereupon
it sank to the very deep bottom.
Such are the mysteries of life, but
in that one pebble’s journey you can
gauge the unpredictable future of
every man, woman and child and creature
on Earth.
Isn’t life utterly bewildering?
It is unlikely that the ever-moving tides
in the fjord will not have moved it elsewhere
many times since it fell in off the ship,
out of the bag, out of the car, into the car,
into the bag, and off the shelf
in the first place.
How it arrived on the shelf is
a story for another day.
He was often a little shy round the opposite sex
His shyness caused so often his mates to be vexed
But this lady he decided he’d ask for a date
Though he fully expected a miserable fate.
So he asked her to dinner one summer long ago
And to his utter bewilderment she didn’t say no
They fell for each other and they talked all night long
And from that night on his heart filled with song.
Each Valentine’s Day he sends her a rose
He oft writes her poems or occasionally prose
His love no bounds nor does her love for him
Each feeling their hearts are filled to the brim.
No longer that shy like he was once before
They married and he carried her over the door
She bore him two children who they love oh so much
Their love so ethereal, bewildering to touch.
If ever you meet the person who makes your heart glow
And you’re both free to love, then perhaps let them know
You’ll both read the signs and then maybe it will be
That you too will have a life as happy as me.
I encountered the man near to an alley-way last night
He demanded my money, like a fool I chose to fight
It really wasn’t as if I’d got very much cash
But the vagabonds behaviour was excessively brash.
So I told him that I wouldn’t give it to him
And he pulled out a knife with a blade long and slim.
He then got so angry and he yelled to me GIVE!!
Or I’ll stab you with this and you’ll just cease to live
But I just wouldn’t give up it’s not how it’s meant
I died with a look of utter be–wilderment.
So I’m writing this poem from up here in the sky
And Peter and my new friends, well we all say Hi!
From his coronet, through his tendons and right up to his crest When you looked at his withers you could see he was best His tail was magnificent and hung past his hock He was blessed with three white ones and a single black sock.
The horse was a Crioulo that had come from Uruguay I fell for the majesty of this horse I would buy He was the colour of buckskin with a black tail and mane And the dun gene line backed him with a long thin black stain.
He stood fifteen hands and he ran like a king Astride him made me want to just burst out and sing I raced over fields and I took him over fence He knew what I asked of him, he had so much sense.
I loved him for thirty fours years from a colt And when he took his last breath it gave me a jolt But I’ll never forget Samson, for that was his name He let me ride on him but he was only ‘so’ tame.
With a languidness the great bird lifted itself off the branch,
It was much older now but it still had a mate and young chicks to feed.
From the hide across the hill the hunter could hear the steady beat
of those great powerful wings, slowly pounding out their regular note.
He watched, fascinated by the beautiful golden colours that gave the bird its name
as the great creature soared off up into the air, to begin its slow steady scout for food.
Now that the eagle was aloft you could almost hear a pin drop, save for the odd sound
of running water slowly trickling down the hillside into the burn far below.
The hunter had quietly settled in this spot some four hours ago before dawn,
he was comfortable and had set his rangefinder on the eerie right from the start.
Now he just had to wait, but patience was one thing that he had in spades.
His skills as a sniper had been fully tested in foreign lands some years before.
Too many of the enemy had appeared in the cross-hairs of his rifle sights
and when they had they’d never reached the end of that day, he was that good.
That had been the problem, being that good you get called on more until…
He swore he would never again pick up a rifle containing live ammunition,
so here he was preparing for the perfect shot with his sniper rifle,
waiting to put a tranquiliser dart into this majestic golden eagle above, to protect him.
He never expected that this work would be so fulfilling, but here in the hills
He found job satisfaction and this work was certainly worthwhile, and no one died.
The eagle had spotted something for he was starting to rise and tilt his wings.
The hunter had watched him for days and had become very familiar with his method.
He would circle to come in from behind of course, but this canny chap had a trick,
he would come in so low he was never really in the prey’s field of vision long enough.
There was the prey, a rabbit who wasn’t too alarmed yet, but that would soon change…
and there he goes, darting about in a zigzag trying to throw the monster off his trail
with the hunter watching the eagle down, and as he lined up to swoop at the rabbit
at almost a hundred miles an hour, the hunter fired and the great bird fell to the ground.
He fired at the point where the eagle was closest to the ground, not wanting to hurt him.
The rabbit lived and the hunter packed away his rifle and walked back down the hill.
Others would do the tagging and the hunter would wait for his next call……
Wendell. Wendell. Fetch a blanket for me please
No Wendell, the nice one, and Wendell agrees
The chill of the day brings an ache to her knees
And Wendell, dear Wendell, his darling he sees.
Wendell and Agatha were a husband and wife
She a little blunt now, he sharp like a knife
They’d married and settled on the farm with its strife
To Wendell it seemed like the whole of his life.
Married in an old church before records were kept
At least, Wendell thought that when feeling inept
But out in the fields were the flowers where he wept
And he’d dream of their beauty even as he slept.
He took Aggie out there on warm Summer days
Where they stayed and relaxed till the sunset brought haze
Then he’d drive her back home sometimes catching her gaze
And in it saw her beauty like in the old days.
Illness took so much of his Aggie away
There lives changed dramatically in every way
Her lovely dark hair had turned instantly grey
And now there was harshness in things that she’d say.
But Wendell loved Aggie with all of his might
He just took her bad moods as part of her plight
And not the great woman who he’d loved at first sight
Who’d always stood by him when they’d needed to fight.
So Wendell took his Agatha to the flowers each day
Where they sat for awhile admiring the display
And if a sad tear tried to run down his face
He’d not let her see it, he’d wipe it away.
Jovis on a Journey... 