Behind the Wire

Behind the wire beauty lies

I see children at play skipping rope

Their mother looks down from the window above

Her heart filled with love and hope

The garden is green, full of flowers,

The birds frequent there every day,

The neighbourhood is bustling and the sun shines upon,

The children, innocent, at play

The building is painted bright colours,

Bright murals adorn the stone wall

Painted with love by those who live there,

The children had painted them all

Music is heard through the open window,

Followed by the mother in song,

The children who know every word,

Begin to sing along

On the surface the song sounds uplifting,

On the surface the words appear glad,

But if you listen closely you will notice,

That the message conveyed's in fact sad

I no longer can see children playing,

Hear singing, or see walls coloured bright,

Instead I can only hear a mother's praying,

For her children who died in the fight

The garden is taken over by weed and rubble,

And through the wire graffiti is splayed

As cold as the cold stone walls

Where once, happiness was displayed

But amidst the trail of destruction,

Behind the wire three red poppies stand tall,

Restoring hope to a new generation,

And love, within its walls

This poem was inspired by a photo taken by a very talented friend of mine, Robyn Carter

For Nia Glassie

I did not know you, but I love you
I could not hold you, shield you from pain
I know that God can now protect you
And that you did not die in vain

Those who hurt you, can no longer
No more shall you be at harm
Those who love shall not forget you
Safe within the good Lord’s arms

Baby girl you’re now an angel
And you now have wings to fly
Spread them, peace is waiting for you
In the heavens of the skies

The Marksman

Eyes darken, narrow, intense
Muscles quiver, stance rigid and tense
Slowly, quietly he moves in
And approaches the unsuspecting

Heartbeat quickens, breathing shallow
Choreographed movement as momentum builds
The marksman focuses on his prey
As he approaches the unsuspecting

Swiftly, boldly, all enduring
With one foul swoop the deed is done
The hunted lies at the feet of the marksman
As in this here battle, the marksman won

Old Man

On cracked grey concrete

The old man sits

Teh lines of his face

Show hardship and pain

Torn shoes adorn his feet

A black plastic bag

Shelters him from the rain

The street is his home

He has no place to go

No family or friends

No-one wants to know

Just how did he get here,

Where is he from?

there has to be someone

Somewhere to belong

The rain eases up

And he's out on the street

His cap now off his head

Is placed at his feet

His eyes cast low

Having just woken from slep

He begs for some money

For something to eat

People walk past

With shopping in hand

Their own eyes downcast

As they approach the man

So many walk past

Look at him, then away

Some people look sad

And throw coins his way

With money in hand

And cap back on his had

He walks into a shop

To purchase some bread

Today is a good day

A whole loaf he can buy

It will last a few days

for now he'll get by

He lifts his gaze

To the skies overhead

Black velvet clouds bring rain

He walks slowly back

To his home on the street

The plastic bag gives him shelter

Again

Return to the Lighthouse

It was as she had remembered
Left unchanged, an image unseen
The lighthouse on the hill
The ocean so still
The source of many a dream

Many decades had passed since her sighting
At the beach on that cold winter's night
But the image she saw would still haunt her
Of the boat being tracked by the light

Looking for answers to questions
She visits the lighthouse once more
Thoughts race through her mind
Of what she might find
As she turns the old latch on the door

An eerie feeling becomes her
As she navigates her way up the stairs
With each step that she climbs
She comes closer to find
The answers she's searched for, for years

But now at the landing there's silence
No chilling whisper she hears
So she enters the room
Where what she sees will consume
The very essence of all of her fears

She notices a shadow before her
A silhouette by the house's bright light
But all around her is calm
As she reaches her arm
To a switch that will turn on a light

Now plain as day before her
The once silhouette is no more
Now a ghost of a man
The bones of a man
Left sitting, on a chair, by the door

The light in the room tells a story
As her eyes dart around at the scene
This man was the lighthouse keeper
And his charges were the lives on the sea

She notices a book by his body
Open, with a scrawled note inside
A note written it seems
The very night that she'd been
At the lighthouse, the night that he'd died

It told that the man once a sailor
Had once witnessed a drowning at sea
Such a terrible sight
He was drawn to the light
Of the lighthouse to watch over the sea

On this night, the night of his passing
The black sea was unusually still
The man saw a boat sail before him
A boat that he'd seen once before

Emotions boiled up inside him
And with tears welling up in his eyes
He sat down in his chair
In the silence, hung his head,
The old man he began to cry

Just then, he heard a voice softly spoken
A whisper, directed at him
The voice was that of his young charge at sea
Who had died having not known how to swim

The boy had come to find him
To take the keeper home
The old man's live was devoted to protecting
Other sailors and guiding them home

So too, this sailor was guided
On a sailboat across the sea that cold night
Guided home to the angels in Heaven
Guided home by the lighthouse's bright light

The sailboat the young girl saw passing
Was the final journey of a man
Who watched over her father
And guided him home
In a storm that had battered the land

It was by chance that, that night she was sitting
Alone on the beach by the sea
And it was by chance that she had seen the sailboat
That was meant for the keeper to see

Though perhaps the message was simple
She was meant to be witness that night
To watch as a man who helped guide sailors home
Was himself guided home to the light

The Lighthouse

She sits by the sea, the cold black sea,
Under the clear night sky
And gazing to sea, she sees what might be
A sailboat passing by

A flicker of light catches her sight
As it shimmers on the water still
Coming not from the boat on the water afloat
But a lighthouse on a hill

She now shifts her sight to the source of the light
And curious, gets to her feet
She follows the gleam of the powerful beam
Right up to the hilltop retreat

Looking for more she opens the door
And quietly creeps up the stairs
Once at the top she comes to a stop
As a whisper, she suddenly hears

Bowing her head to hear what is said
She is told that it was meant to be
That she was sitting this night and drawn to the light
That was meant for her only to see

The sailboat she saw was neither out there no more
Nor a trace of where it had been
Just the sea lit up far from the billions of stars
Had its presence simply been a dream?

She sits by the sea, the cold black sea
Having returned from the previous night
And gazing to sea what does she see
But the same boat being tracked by the light

She watches it sail until her eyes fail
And camouflaged in darkness it seems
And to this very day she still cannot say
If it was real or all was a dream