Month: September 2021

Yes, it is Friday,
and a real release for some,
as the weekend’s come.

I span on my chair,
and did two and a half turns,
and spilt my coffee.

It does feel cooler,
there is a sense in the air,
of rain and Autumn.

I hope for warm days,
that will the winter delay,
before autumn’s here.

People passing by,
walking, running, and riding,
in groups or alone.

Travelled to London,
the tube was packed like sardines,
and was smelly too.

London is alive,
with the vehicles and people,
moving everywhere.

The hoisin duck wrap,
is my favourite lunch now,
at least for this week.

Early up, late in,
that is the reality,
of London working.

Sleep was catching me,
on the tube journey back home,
snoozing for a while.

Travelling is good,
a walk, a journey, or trip,
for a day or year.

I have done a few,
year long and those shorter ones,
and frequent dailies.

The long trip I’ve took,
was such a long time ago,
but not forgotten.

I flew to a place,
with my backpack and guitar,
and a lot of fears.

I found there my friends,
from the first day to the last,
and ever with me.

I can hear music,
notes so familiar play,
that constantly change.

What’s a music note,
but a pure set frequency,
and not decibels.

Guitar strings vibrate,
played in time and together,
in their perfect sense.

Some voices can soar,
like eagles reaching such heights,
and gracefully fly.

I’m a musician,
and a songwriter of sorts,
that matters to me.

The colours rejoice,
mixing beauty together,
under skilful hands.

Water colours run,
blend and merge in such wonder,
and coming alive.

The painter can’t wait,
it’s inspiration that drives,
when they make a start.

Colours are our friends,
quite plain and unassuming,
but see what they like.

Paintings aren’t rainbows,
but they do take a little,
of its wide palette.

Writing’s a passion,
that grabs and drives you onwards,
to those greater dreams.

The words will not wait,
and swirl around when spoken,
but settle harder.

A noun is a thing,
a verse is a doing word,
together they play.

I’m not an author,
though I write many writings,
none are yet complete.

The pen’s posed ready,
hoovering over the page,
keen to make a start.

Out for a short run,
I don’t want to over do it,
so taking small steps.

I didn’t get far,
past the post and down the road,
and caught the bus back.

Exercise is good,
in moderation, they say,
but do it often.

Well Friday was here,
I know it was, I lived it,
but it went so quick.

out riding my bike,
along an old railway track,
dodging the walkers.

Someone’s’ assumption,
is a risk to someone else:;
the gun’s not loaded.

I’ve a blue notebook,
that inspires me to write more,
and get things finished.

Chinese left overs,
seems more tastier some how,
just fry it up some,.

It arrived today,
a multi-gym that’s for me,
to try and get fit.

Time’s slipping away,
it can’t be held or delayed,
and the days just fade.

I’m scratching around,
looking for a real new sound,
that will resonate.

That last gulp of tea,
black, sweet and warm, and then gone,
so satisfying.

I am sleeping well,
snoozing and napping well too,
then I always have.

It is official,
September’s finally here;
that didn’t take long.

One more mug of tea,
that’s hot and deliberate,
a good distraction.

Take your foot off it,
you are standing on it now,
and there is was too.

I’m making it up,
every word and every line,
it’s all just made up.

Do not think too hard,
let it flow, just let it go,
let your talent show.