Morning Mist

 
Morning Mist,
Oh, Morning Mist.

Observed from hilltop vantage point.

Like morning haze
Glaze left on morning eyes
Wo-ken from sleep
Too soon.

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One leaf, two leaves

Tree in Winter (c) SJ Murphy

One leaf, two leaves
Three leaves, four

Lasted through the winter gales
Await new leaves to push through
Once the springtime thaw begins

I’ve stood and watched you many times
Expecting next time you’ll be gone
You’ve held strong – and for that I applaud

Strong while all around you fell
You’ll take your place among the mulch
But ’til then stand strong and paint

A picture of abandonment
A picture of solitude
A picture of dignity

One leaf, two leaves
Three leaves, four

Christmas Message

Christmas cards and fairy lights,
Christmas parties and raucous sites,
Christmas angels and silent nights.

Similar scene, this scene I guess,
Bedford to Brighton or Inverness,
the festive scene, a happy scene.

This described the festive norm,
this described the festive warm,
here, it’s happy, the festive scene.

But don’t forget the unfortunate one,
sharing the festive scene, alone,
no warmth, no comfort or company.

Share a moment, a penny or pound,
offer that lonely soul, “come round,
join in the joy, the company”.

Might get knocked back or “bugger off !”,
Might come round and scoff, scoff, scoff,
Be happy within, you’ve made the offer.

You never know, he might be wise,
He might be a bugger and tell terrible lies,
but you’ll never know unless you offer.

Christmas Message

Bricks May Crumble …

(c) SJ Murphy

Bricks
just a few, blood red:
the outer layer
the protective layer
SMASHED away:
like open wounds
where infection waits – with baited breath –
to pounce – to infect
the stream of blood with thoughts
of pain – of thoughts long lost.
Thoughts – dead and buried – but for the slightest –
open wound –
a speck of flesh, lifted –
raw, red raw.
Like a building – proud and tall –
tall and strong –
with just the slightest –
open wound –
exposed and waiting for excruciating pain
to be felt through the core –
to send the body –
twisting, thrashing –
until almost bent double –
but the core is strong, foundations firm and
walls stand, they will not fall.

An occasional brick may crumble
but the building defends against
all the elements thrown;
the driving winter hail
has come and gone;
the frost has bitten
and let way for summer sun;
and the hottest summer sun has blasted
laser heat onto southern facing walls.

But strong stand the walls –
defended against all that had been thrown against them –
and just as the bricks, the walls, the building
soak the driven pain into it’s rooms
and sway the minutest of movements –
so –
the human core, swaying, just slightly –
with an occasional;
gust of wind, sudden hailstorm, kick in the teeth;
takes strength, soaks the cold, the pain, the heat
and stands tall –
with just a tiny blemish, one raw, red raw
crumbled brick that won’t allow the core –
to dissolve.