Myriads of Stars.

There are myriads of stars in the night sky,

The month of June is drawing nigh.

A new moon peeps timidly but bright,

To help lighten this beautiful night.

A shooting star drops elegantly into my view,

I make a wish I just know it will come true.

Insects making music in the nightly background,

Have you ever heard such a melodious sound?

A fresh warm breeze blows from afar,

In the distance the low hum of a car,

This is truly nature at it's best,

The busy day long gone to rest.

A nightingale sings a song of the night,

Much to my pleasure and great delight.

There are myriads of stars in the night skies,

Only sweet nature understands my surprise.

Hills and Dales.

Strolling over hills and dales,

Wandering through the land of Wales.

Groves of ash I passed on my way,

Tall trees in the wind did sway.

Ferns luscious in their coats of green,

Wild flowers many I have never seen.

A glory opening to my wondering eyes,

At each turn and bend some new surprise.

Villages enchanting to behold,

A few quite new many very old.

With here and there ruins of stone,

Reminding me that I am alone.

Alone on a journey of my choice,

Good reason for my soul to rejoice.

I realised that it soon must end,

My mind sorrowful thoughts did send.

I must return to my daily routine,

Happy and thankful for all I have seen.

Nature had shown me yet once again,

That she alone had the power to keep me sane.

Warming Sun.

Warming sun shining on my head,

Me sitting peacefully by the garden shed.

The garden cleared of bothersome weeds,

Freshly dug beds planted with seeds.

Lovingly watered with a watering can,

Carefully laid out with my garden plan.

Now patiently waiting for the seeds to grow,

Excitement mounts as the first leaves show.

Tomato plants young and strong,

Salads coming nicely along.

Bean poles placed in neat rows,

Warmth hurries the beans to grow.

Peas grown in fruitful ground,

With fresh young pods they will abound.

Potato plants pushing to the light,

My garden is a lovely sight.

Cabbages planted in long straight rows,

Garlic shoots to please the nose.

Brussels sprouts to tickle the tongue,

Onions to help to keep me young.

Time to bring out the hoe,

Loosen the earth to help things grow.

And me sitting peacefully by the garden shed,

With the warming sun caressing my head.

Back to a Boy.

Going back to when I was a boy,

To climb a tree was one great joy.

I felt the muscles in my arms and legs,

My blood flowing fast to the last dregs.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins so fast,

In my imagination I was climbing a ship's mast.

On reaching the top of the high tree,

I was bitterly disappointed there was no sea.

Scrambling quickly down from on high,

There was a satisfaction; I had nearly reached the sky.

Yes it was great fun to be a boy,

Trees and climbing my one great joy.

Why did I have to grow to an adult?

To climb a tree now is like an assault.

In my dreams I still climb trees,

Deeply breathing in the fresh breeze.

In the mornings when I awake,

I realise my tree climbing is just a fake.

And I am tempted to go into the wood,

To climb a tree as I feel I should.

Nature's Call.

The world is large and I am small,

I hear the winds that do me call.

Come! Discover before it is too late,

Time is running fast it will seal your fate.

So many treasures to show to you,

Such as the early morning dew.

Fresh green buds as spring awakes,

Flowers peeping around deep blue lakes.

Mountains show fresh new hues,

Snow that melts bring streams anew.

Forest glades filled with flowers,

With here and there shady bowers,

Wild animals with playful young,

Gentle breezes with songs unsung.

Enjoy sweet nature seek lasting peace,

Your natural knowledge will greatly increase.

The world is large and I am small,

I still marvel at natures call.

Tell Me It's a Dream.

By a grove of ash slowly flows a stream,

Following me hauntingly even in dream.

The eddying of water surrounding the stones,

Soothing the aches and pains from out of my bones.

Mine is a wanting for peace, perfect peace,

I find it here in nature's own sweet masterpiece.

The sounds of rippling waters is music to my ears,

Washing away all of my imaginary fears.

Warmed by the gentle sun shining on my face,

Watching a spider spinning threads of fine gossamer lace.

No loud noise to interrupt my reverie so sweet,

Rendezvous with the past, future perhaps to meet.

Far away the cooing of a turtle dove,

Singing of it's never ending love.

High in the sky the lark in full song,

I am at peace with the world nothing is wrong.

Join me by the ash grove and that slow moving stream,

Listen to Nature, and then tell me it's a dream.

Hope.

Tulips as far as the eye can see,

Golden daffodils waving in perfect harmony.

All the colours of the spectrums prism,

Awake in me my enthusiastic optimism.

All is well in this world of ours,

So long as we may see such beautiful flowers.

Butterflies dancing past gathering nectar sweet,

A long lost feeling of movement in my once nimble feet.

I feel as if I could dance the long day,

All of my troubles just swept away.

Small wonders of natures awakening force,

As the earth turns on it's mysterious course.

I hear the insects all pervading hum,

I relax my heart like the slow beat of a drum.

Fine wisps of cloud chase across the skies,

With sunshine kissing skin, a lovely surprise.

Sweet odours come drifting to my sensitive nose,

This strange reality is not some pose.

Occurrences returning year after year,

To allay mankind's most awesome fear.

Fear that winters interlude, a cold long stay,

Would never be willing to be chased away.

Oak Tree.

I took an acorn and put it in a pot,

I bedded it in earth not a lot.

I had great pleasure watching it slowly grow,

The first budding green came ever so slow.

I watered my little tree once or twice a week,

I knew where I would plant it, down by the creek.

One day in the course of time it would be a giant oak,

To shield me from the sun, a sheltering cloak.

Lovers will carve their initials in that rugged bark,

An arrow through a heart they will leave their mark.

It will provide shelter for those caught in a summer's rain,

Under it's leafy boughs joy will be again.

Creatures of the wilds will claim it for their own,

Squirrels rushing up and down the trunk build a new home.

Birds will come to nest and raise their young,

They will sing a melodious chorus of songs well sung.

Under it's mighty branches grass will grow,

Here and there a wild flower it's lovely head will show.

My oak tree for hundreds of years will live,

Perhaps the most important thing that I ever had to give.

Fruits.

The first of the fruits are the sweet ripe cherries,

Then the low bushes with wonderful berries,

Blackcurrants, red currants and soft strawberries,

Prickly plant with gorgeous gooseberries,

Sweet plums, greengages my eyes to delight,

Wonderful colour that is so bright.

Early apples sweet pears so pleasing,

Then late apples and pears my eyes are teasing.

Rows of grapes waiting in the sun,

Picking the fruit is hard but fun.

Then there are the fruits from tropical climes,

Oranges, grapefruits and wonderful green limes.

From further away pineapples too,

Now this is a fruit for me and you.

Exotic lichens from far away lands,

For this fruit I would stand on my hands.

Not to forget the bananas yellow or green,

Truly a fruit that must be seen,

There are other fruits, fruits galore,

Many we have not seen that is for sure.

But the fruit that is for me the Queen,

Is the small ripe luscious tangerine?

Something Unusual.

Something unusual is in the air,

A thing most pleasant, that I would like to share.

A feeling that I have known before,

Just what it is I cannot be sure?

Is it the old feeling that I am well?

Or am I just coming out of my shell.

I have been smiling for at least a couple of days,

Is it because I have been exposed to the Sun's rays?

Or is it the beginning of spring at last.

That is making my depressions a thing of the past.

Are my hormones coming awake I ask,

My face is now a pleasant mask.

Will it be there in a week's time?

This wonderful feeling that is all mine.

I want to share it with you all,

So listen carefully to the spring's sweet call.

Flowers are showing their lovely heads,

Look to see them when you get out of your beds.

That you too may enjoy this feeling in the air,

That I most joyfully with you would share.

So smile I say and be of good cheer,

For my feeling tells me that spring is near.

This World.

A field of buttercups as far as the eye can see,

Should I walk across them, They had done no harm to me.

I shall leave well alone; not destroy the scene,

Leave them for the next one for this is a sight to be seen.

Walk along the wooded floor with expectation in my eyes,

I shy at natures sweetness and her means for me to surprise,

Be it early in the morning or late into the night,

I see the goodness of the earth and it fills me with delight.

A waterfall cascading over the moss piled stones,

All filling me with energy as a bumble bee drones.

Flowers, Insects, birds and all of the wildlife around,

Make me want to wander over this earths blessed ground.

Mankind open your heart look closer at this your world,

See the fabulous beauty just for your eyes unfurled.

On the Farm.

On the farm I am pleased to announce to you all,

That the animals have listened to natures call.

Now the new lambs are frolicking away,

With nothing to do but to drink and play.

Hens proudly lead their hungry chicks,

Showing them all the best of the picks.

On the pond the coloured drakes,

With wives and ducklings a lovely picture make.

Then there are the calves in the stall,

Lowly mooing as their mothers they call.

Running and kicking around in the field

Foals with their mothers, what a wonderful yield.

The farmers wife has a new baby in her arms,

Living on a farm certainly has it's charms.

A couple of well rounded mother sows,

With twenty piglets, should take their bows.

It must be wonderful to live on a farm,

To share with nature all this charm.

Sea Shore.

A stroll along the peaceful beach,

Long rolling waves just out of my reach.

Sand crunching under my willing feet,

Feeling the day's beginning heat.

Sea Gulls sweeping the crests of the waves,

The feeling of gladness that my heart so craves.

There can be no greater joy for me,

Than a leisurely stroll by the sea.

A boat far off from the land,

Children playing in the yellow sand.

Tangent smell of salt in the air,

This is something that I would like you to share.

A rusting anchor chained to the shore,

Floating on restless waves a broken oar.

Above all I hear Neptune's call,

Reminding me, that to him, I owe it all.

The simple pleasures of the sea shore,

Are there today and forever more.

Sprouting Green.

The budding shoots of sprouting green,

Freshening breezes of air so clean.

The end of Winter's, dismal glow,

The finish of overpowering snow.

The beginning of Spring, another year,

To greet one gladly without fear.

Bringing a promise of Summer Sun,

Your work not yet completely done.

Warmth pervading slow but sure,

Deep down in my innermost core.

I pay you tributes that I surely owe,

For driving away the Winter's snow.

Lifting my spirit to heights empore,

Gaining strength for me to explore.

Nature's sweetest secrets on display,

For me to discover as I surely may.

Lifting the weight from my very soul,

As I watch the antics of a new born Foal.

Yes I greet the shoots of sprouting green,

The most beautiful sight that I have ever seen.

The Winds Of Time.

Blowing down the wind of time,

A fragrance a perfume near divine.

A delicacy captured by the rose,

An ultimate delight for eyes and nose.

No Artist has ever brushed such perfect details,

Of shy pinks from carmine red to pales.

Queen of all the heavens delights,

Candelescence of God like lights.

Not even the rain forests Orchids rare,

Can match the hues that you do share.

Rambling over garden wall, display so dainty,

Growing bushes straight and tall, flowers so Saintly.

Keep blowing down the winds of time,

That I may gently end this my rhyme

British Rivers.

Why do they call you the river Trent,

Twisting and curling somehow bent.

I know why they call you the Fleet,

A man fell in and got wet feet.

The name they gave you was the Tyne,

North English People say that you are just fine.

You have really no need to hide,

For ever-one knows that you are the Clyde.

Poachers fishing in the river Usk,

Only do so when it is getting dusk.

Swimming I am told in the river Severn,

Is only allowed until half past eleven.

There was no bridge over the river Dart,

Just a ford for the Horse and Cart.

I just cannot carry all of this lumber,

So I will ship it by boat down the Humber.

Walking along by the river Wye,

I felt hungry and ate some Pie.

A Miller I know by the river Dee,

Watched the river's antics and laughed with glee.

Longings.

I long for the smells of the country side,

The blossoms and flowers so bright.

My disappointments I try to hide,

'Till England's shores come into sight.

I have made my home abroad you know,

In a Forest filled mountain land.

Life's pace is now very slow,

But the scenery is just grand.

I still yearn for the Green Downs,

In Kent's Garden filled with Fruits

The wooded hills are wearing gowns,

Of Autumn coloured suits.

Soon will come the time of Snow,

The Mountains clean, covered in white,

Time for the Austrian Crows,

To complain of their hungry plight.

I may dream of my home town, Dartford,

Lying huddled in the north of Kent.

But here I must stay I gave my word,

A promise can never be spent.

The Curse Of The Wind.

Blowing, Snowing, Blizzards, Gales,

These are hard facts not fairy tales.

Yes many have cursed you for millions of years,

Cowering, huddling, without shelter, just terrible fears.

Today we build with concrete and steel,

For you care not of how we feel.

So stay cursed on this planet of man,

Gnaw at the mountains; a part of the plan.

In the deserts a storm of sand,

Covering all in that no-mans land.

Yes! You are cursed that which we cannot see,

Your torments on land are small compared to those at sea.

You have brought death to many a soul,

Names too numerous to write on a scroll.

Yes we are bitter and curse the wind,

Our determinations will not be thinned.

For there will come a time when we conquer your power,

Mankind will use you hour after hour.

So stay cursed and blow while you may,

In the end it is you that will pay.

One day perhaps we will lift the curse,

And no-one will write of you, not in verse.

Nature.

Give nature a chance to recompense,

Spoil not the morrows chance.

Now is the time to come to sense,

So take up shield and lance.

The morrows generations will have no way,

When today all is ravaged and spoiled.

So take up your shield and lance, I say,

For nature is waiting to be uncoiled.

Winter Mood.

The trees have lost their leaves,

The branches and twigs are bare.

My old heart it bleeds,

To see them standing there.

Where is the Sun's bright ray,

That casts the shadows all around.

Where are the birds so gay,

There are none to be found.

All is deep in waiting time,

A period of melancholy blight.

An interlude of saddening chime,

Alike to unending night.

The Moon.

She follows a path known throughout the years,

Ever changing, but somehow the same.

Many a Maiden has shed soft tears,

Waiting for a love that never came.

In the silvery night of a moonlit night,

Where hearts beat tight like a drum.

Soldiers waiting for the foe,

Hoping that he will never come.

The shadows fall where the night birds call.

Following your progression through the night.

Patients lying in hospital beds,

Fighting that last bitter fight.

Shyly you show your first quarterly gleam,

Miserly your strength, preserved like a dream.

Beguiling, misleading, spreading a cloak of fear.

Inmates of the Asylum know that you are near.

On a winters night, as you move on your way,

Roaming the Heavens towards a new born day..

WINTER WIND.

Cruel winter wind so cold,

Must you really blow.

Are your needs so very old,

To make you come and go.

Year for year, the complaints do grow,

From man, from beast and bird.

Will you bring us snow,

Our laments left unheard.

Is there no other way for you,

Your talents us to show.

Can you not think of something new,

For God's creatures here below.

Now I see you have heard my prayer,

Your strength out blown at last.

Gently rustling through my hair,

Spring is coming fast.

Through Spring, Summer and Autumn, Wind so cold,

Think of something new.

I know that you are very old,

But you chill me through and through.

I have no room for you indeed,

So keep away from me.

A summer breeze is all I need,

Blowing in from off the sea.

Sparrows, Magpies and Crows.

Friendly Sparrows sitting on a branch,

Chirping away with me in a trance.

I was mesmerised for all to see,

While gazing at the Sparrows in the Elm tree.

Now Sparrows are nosy and came so near,

To where I was sitting, full of good cheer.

I listened carefully at what they had to say,

And was amazed that they could make my day.

Some were cheeky but friendly too,

One was sitting on an old shoe.

I was told to be wary of the Magpies and Crows,

They rob our nests of our young ones you know.

When the Crows and Magpies are about,

I was asked to give a very loud shout.

The Sparrows know that I sit in my chair,

My eyes they say are everywhere.

And if I warn them, about the Magpies and Crows.

They will come and visit me even when it snows.

ONLY.

What's this I hear,

Only four seasons in the year.

Divided into months of three,

Must this be enough for you and me.

First the winter, hard and cold,

Condemning man as of old.

Then comes spring, light and gay,

Pushing life on its inevitable way.

On to summer, ripening heat,

Living force hard to beat.

Autumns harvest, ripe and full,

Strange to feel the hungry pull.

Months of three flying past,

Toward the end of life at last.

Now what is this I hear,

Only four seasons in the year.

SNOW.

I've seen you come, I've seen you go,

But I don't know why they call you snow.

You are silent as you fall,

In fact you make no noise at all.

Whilst you cover all in white,

You fill my heart with strange delight.

Each little snow flake seems to say,

I've come to brighten up your day.

Yes, I've seen you come and seen you go,

But I still don't know why, they call you snow.

Corn Flowers.

In the lush summer meadows full of hay,

I see blue flowers have come for a short stay.

Visitors that arrive only once in a year,

I welcome them gladly for to my heart they are dear.

They have a Latin name that few may remember,

Then they are gone by the middle of September.

They are the cornflowers of a deep lovely blue,

They represent to me all the values that are true.

I have in the past pressed them in a book,

Then when I am feeling low I take a longing look.

I am reminded of long lazy summer days,

When the far horizon appears in a perpetual haze.

Cornflowers in lush meadows full with sweet hay,

I look forward to your coming and to your short stay.

Diamonds.

Twinkling diamonds light the North African sky.

All is silent not a sound to be heard.

My soul wanders way up on high,

My spirit soaring like a bird.

Still are the palms not the essence of a breeze,

Underfoot the stones are cooling fast.

Africa is a Harlot that does always tease,

A fathomless beauty that will forever last.

Cold the night competitive with the days heat,

My heart beats in tune as I contemplate the scene.

The world is in order I smell the fragrance of repeat,

The lower Atlas is the most beauteous place I have ever seen.

Full Speed.

Please slow down, Take things easy,

Going too fast makes one feel queasy.

No one can enjoy a life that is too fast,

Sometimes it is better to be late and come in last.

Than to go at full speed all day long,

When you go too fast things can go wrong.

A slow walk is better than haste,

You have more time for things of your taste.

Remember the Tortoise and the Hare,

Do not be in a hurry to do more than your share.

The thing I am trying to say please heed,

It is easier to go slowly than at full speed.

Blossoms.

I see the fresh blossoms on the trees,

And know that spring is here at last.

This does my old heart please,

As it has done in the years gone past.

Soon fruit ripened in a warming sun,

Will be ours to pick and eat.

Nature has her work well done,

Where no human can compete.

Blowing rippling through the trees,

There plays a gentle summer breeze.

Telling us that all is well,

For spring has cast her magic spell.

Blossoms do the poet inspire,

His pen will write the rest.

Our hopes rise higher and higher,

As we are with blossoms blest.

Wings.

I listen to the beat of wings,

The birds are busy building nests.

This is a wondrous thing,

That birds can do the best.

I hear the chorus at the break of dawn,

Of birds greeting the new born day.

They take off in perfect swarm,

As they find their effortless way.

Theirs is a timeless look for food,

To feed those waiting mouths in the nest.

They seem to be in a cheerful mood,

For natures palette is of the best.

Hungry mouths are fed on insects and seeds,

A varied food for helpless fledglings,

Parent birds fill those hungry needs,

As I sit and enjoy the beat of wings.

Nature.

The coming and going of each and every day,

Reminds me that we are nature's things of play.

Winter season's hard and bitter storms,

Where all is waiting, in a silent hushed form.

Then the gentle coming of youthful spring,

Bringing soft rains that bright flowers bring.

Rays of warming sun each day,

Letting nature have her inimical way.

Ripening fruits below and above ground,

Promises of harvest seen all around,

Yes the coming and going of each and every day,

Tell me to let nature have her wonderful way.

Wilderness.

I hear the wilderness calling to me,

It is time again to plant a tree.

Many a tree I have planted in the ground,

For the call of the wilderness is a wondrous sound.

I feel it is a duty of solemn dignity,

for me to go out and plant a tree.

Many are deaf and do not  heed the call,

They know not the beauty in a tree that is tall.

The trees I have planted would fill an acre,

This will surely please my maker.

I too have planted bushes and shrubs in great number,

The thought alone sweetens my slumber,

If you hear the wilderness calling to you,

It will one day reach you from out of the blue.

Be prepared and go out and plant trees,

This I know will your maker please.

Plant Talk.

I speak to all the plants that in my garden do grow,

The flowers I thank for their colours you know.

The shrubs come in for special words of praise,

For they hide me from the strangers gaze.

The trees I embrace with willing arms,

For showering me with all of their strengthening charms.

I encourage my vegetables to grow big and strong,

They will feed me as the months go along.

I also speak to the insects and the bees,

For they pollinate my flowers and trees.

In my garden there is welcome and a place for one and all.

I will willingly welcome you if you happen to call.

So if you have the inclination and the time to spare,

Come in to my garden and with me happily share.

You may listen to my words of tenderness and love,

As I talk to my plants and all that was sent from Heaven above.

Wonderful Day.
Sparkling stream slowly meandering along,
With minnows swimming here and there.
I wandering quietly am humming a song,
Just happy with nature to share.
Birds accompany me on my slow walk,
Insects joining in our melody of praise.
If only the trees could whisper and talk,
It would help my spirits to raise.
Sweet smells of wild flowers in full bloom,
With colours too many to describe.
Helping me out of my depressive gloom,
This was surely nature's bribe.
Go for a walk in Mother Nature's Garden,
Your rewards will be many I say,
No need to ask any ones pardon,
Just enjoy a most beautiful day.

Forest Floor.
I walked along the forest's floor,
Blue Bells were all around me.
I had opened nature's door,
Her blessing's she showered profoundly.
I heard the Cuckoo's triumphant call,
Other birds whistle each their song,
Myself I slowly began to recall,
Each tone as I meandered along.
The Woodcock in search for a bride,
Danced an age old ritual of love,
Proud feathers he did not hide,
Love outdone by the cooing Dove.
Birds in the trees, flowers on the ground,
Green leaves of many coloured hue,
Nature's gifts do much abound,
For the likes of me and you.
Go into the forest enjoy what you see,
You will be in for a surprise,
Your heart will be filled with glee,
For nature beguiles all under the skies.

Hibiscus Flowers.
Hibiscus Flowers where ever I look,
Reds and blues and the pretty white,
Freshly taken from a picture book,
They fill me with great delight.
Indoor Hibiscus Flowers delicate yellow,
Potted plants in my snug flat,
Great beauty that turns me mellow,
To all Gardeners I take off my hat.
The hibiscus is a flower to please,
Grown in a warm and temperate clime.
Reds, blues and whites do tease,
With glowing colours so sublime.