Tommy Mc Bride
The Cruel Sea
Pitch black is the night
Where winds wildly blow
waves big and small
no normal folk will go
Stars shine out, the night wind drops, a
tall ship breaks above
the waves, upon the darkening sea
Proud men toil, getting their catch
hands and faces like granite stone
they're young and old, but
that's just life upon the sea
Some say aye, some say nae
but that's life for us
thinking of loved ones, young
and old, and know this cruel sea
Memories
Like taking a trip back in time, ash pathways and neat trimmmed grass
Faces clear as day, time ebbing away, reflections of an hour glass.
Smell of fresh cut flowers, drifting in the light evening breeze,
The young man walking on the pathway, carrying his valise.
Memories flooding his mind, tormenting his present time.
He quickly brushes the canvas, to show the paradigm.
The scent of jasmine, inspires him to create a prime painting
Of walks with his mother in the summertime.
Grand polished stones of marble, stand tall in a row.
Some with gold coloured letters, they show their status quo.
Like a pathway to heaven, they're spread over the ground.
His mind and thoughts, try to expound.
Swallows going to and fro, skylarks in blue skies soaring.
Here he sits under the yew tree, pencils and brushes ready.
Hours of dedication, to accomplish his commission;
Memories, dreams, do come while the birds were sleeping.
His equanimity starting to settle, no more demented nightmares.
He remembers the terrible workhouse, voices echoing beware.
Tiny boy in bed, sweating, crying, praying for answers.
He tries to blank those terrible memories, as demons are advancing.
His mother cried that terrible day, when officials took him away.
Father dead, mother, too ill to look after a little boy, is arrogating.
Years pass; mother and son reunited, they leave without delay.
Mother would say,'Just like your father, always painting.'
Looking at the old granite headstone, sitting under the yew tree.
"Alberto - the crazy painter", people called as they passed by.
Peace at last mother, demons gone, wouldn't you agree.
Say hello to father, as Alberto is leaving now.
Nature's Aroma's
A brisk walk in the morning;
Through a thick pine forest,
Suffuses the smell aloft,
Dawn's up; it's very becoming.
When sitting on damp moss by the river,
The earthly smell; is very specific.
Watching, wading birds thrashing about,
Makes your body want to shiver.
Seeing wild snowdrops and daffodils,
Gently swaying on the morning breeze,
Honeysuckle; with sweet- smelling yellow
And pink flowers; inhale, our day is fulfilled.
Ripples
The Tide caused it
the water makes it
flowing freely leaves
its mark every day
Smooth seas, rough seas
storms, it is still the same
miles and miles of it
We walk in it, we look at it
we can't see how the sea causes it, but
every day is the same - it looks like a wonder of the world
it's simple; the moon rules it.
The tide goes out, there's miles
of it, we look and see a desert
of sand but it's wet and soft to
walk on, sit back and look at it
what is it, ripples and ripples of sand