Category: Just for the moment

Back to work’s a chore,
The meetings are a long bore,
Not sure I want more.

I took a drive out,
And of course came back again,
With a loaf of bread.

The dog pooh outside,
Has now be trodden about,
What a smelly mess.

I am feeling tired.
I fell asleep this evening,
Watching the TV.

He tried to keep watch,
But work had exhausted him,
Soon he was asleep.

He woke with the sun,
Early morning and still cool,
His body aching.

Around him were piles,
Piles of gold coins covered up,
With dirt and some leaves.

He looked up the cliff,
And thought that he must try it,
And climb to the top.

First he got water,
Checking the cave was still safe.
It was and he left.

He began to climb,
And routes opened up to him,
With ledges and grips.

Soon he reached the top,
And looked down along the shore,
It was looking clear.

He feared their returned,
Those that had buried the gold,
That must come back soon.

He carried it up,
Making about thirty trips,
And fell exhausted.

At the top were trees,
And some good hiding places,
And there he rested.

The land all around,
Looked like untouched native land,
Mostly all forest.

His sleep was restful,
And again woke with the dawn,
And looked out again.

The sea was clear blue,
And a cloudless sky above,
Without any wind.

He found a fresh spring,
Further into the forest,
This tasted so good.

Well it has began,
The sun is shining today,
And people are out.

I have got my plans,
To get things done and started,
Yes, a few new things.

And the Seaward Tale,
Is progressing well, I think,
And does have an end.,

I have the sniffles,
Maybe a cold has got me,
It is winter time.

I’m starting afresh,
My office is re-arranged,
And now has four seats.

There’s a comfy chair,
Two stools and an office chair,
It seems to sit well.

With a lighted rag,
And an armful of driftwood,
He entered the cave.

He could see better,
The pile of stones, the corpses.
And an old fire pit.

He threw in the wood,
And thrust in the lighted rags.
Slowly the fire caught.

Six bodies lay there,
Scattered around the fire pit,
Where they were slaughtered.

He devised a plan,
To take the treasure boxes,
Outside to empty,

Then refill with sand,
And bring them back to re-bury,
One by one that is.

He unearthed the first,
And heaved it on his shoulder,
And took it outside.

He came back with it,
Filled with sand and some more wood,
To keep the fire lit.

He reburied it,
Then searched for any others,
And found seven more.

One by one they went,
Out and back, into the ground,
Until all were done.

He looked around,
And then brushed the ground level,
Hiding his footprints.

It was getting dark,
The sun was now setting fast,
As he dowsed the fire.

The tide was far out.
There was a serene feeling,
With the evening light.

At the hideaway,
Around and up the cliff face,
Through a tiny slit.

In the cliff rock face,
To a small ravine and here,
Where he could be safe.

At midnight he woke,
The tide was high and close by,
It lapped the cliff face.

What is happening?
The day seems so much warmer.
Yesterday was cold.

The bear cherry tree,
Now bends in expectation,
Of spring and blossoms.

Clouds merge together,
Blanketting the sky in grey,
Without any breaks.

My office will change.
It will re-arrange itself,
Giving some more space.

Music’s a passion,
Though it feels too much the same,
I’ll change what I do.

He hid the small box,
Exploring further the cave,
There were just dead ends.

Back at the stone pile,
He searched in the cold darkness,
For something useful.

Some empty bottles,
Some rags from the dead’s clothing,
And some lengths of cord.

There were no weapons,
No left guns, swords or daggers,
This meant they were killed.

Use to carry stuff,
Then killed to keep it secret,
And to warn others,

Carefully he left,
And checking for any sounds,
Of unwelcome guests.

He filled the bottles,
With water, he would need that,
And wrapped them up.

Outside it was hot,
Quiet, except for the waves,
Breaking on the shore.

The tide was higher,
And almost at the entrance,
How high would it go?

He found a good place,
To hide the things collected,
And to make a fire.

He was hungry now,
But knew water was better,
For a day or two.

He went further round,
The cliffs reduced to forest,
Of in the distance.

He had to get it,
This time with some form of light,
A stick and some rags.

A broken bottle,
And sunlight started a fire,
And went back inside.

A happy New Year,
To all who visit this site,
A much better year.

It is a cold day,
And the small pond has frozen,
Just like my poor hands.

There’s a growing mist,
It is rising thicker now,
And hiding the trees.

It is a new day,
And amazing, a new year,
Twenty twenty-one.

Waking with wet feet,
And the sun’s warmth on his head,
He struggled to rise.

Staggering forward,
The sand heavy under foot,
He headed for shade.

He found a small cave,
To keep the sun of his body.
Now to find water.

After a short rest,
He walked out slowly eastwards,
With the sun behind.

There were just sheer cliffs,
But he found a larger cave,
And this one went back.

It quickly got dark,
Inside it was damp smelling,
And water was found.

A trickle of it,
Down the cave wall to a pond,
Small, but just enough.

Venturing further,
He wondered where it would lead,
And was it worth it.

A pile of small rocks,
Alerted him, t’was a sign!
A very good sign.

He looked about him,
And sure enough skeletons,
Dressed in tatty clothes.

He could not see well,
And shadows began to move,
So it seemed to him.

He dug a small hole,
Soon hitting a box ,not deep,
And heaved in up out.

He could feel the weight,
Though small it was so heavy,
And gold coins fell out.

He let them fall out,
Happy for the find, but then,
How could he leave here?

I can’t remember,
What did I post yesterday?
I will have to check.

The day’s overcast,
A heavy frost this morning,
Left it icy cold.

I am locked away,
To focus a little here,
And get something done.

The year is ending,
And we all say, “Good Riddance!”
What a year it’s been.

I did post something, it needs some more work on that, to finish the tale.

Here’s a seaward tale,
Of a sailor caught at sea,
In a fiercesome storm.

The wave washed the deck,
And nothing could be held fast,
Much went over board.

They struggled with sails,
As they tried to pull them in,
The ropes burning hands.

Each wave the ship rolled,
Throwing sailors down slipping,
Across the wet deck.

Soon a wave so huge,
Took this sailor from the ship,
In the cold briny.

On a barrel held,
As it rode wave after wave,
Until morning came.

And in morning light,
Land there could be seen not far,
And so he did swim.

The warm sandy beach,
Embraced him as he fell there.,
Waves lapping his legs.

Maybe continued, and then again maybe not, we’ll see when we’re there.