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Sitting at an old initial carved wooden table
The old poet wrote of life and love Chipped curb-stones and concrete bricks
And well-worn toffee coloured ancient cobbles
But his mind always returned to memories
Of that pretty young girl in the yellow dress
He met at the flower market stall
The girl with the watercolour smile
Who never gave him the chance to say goodbye
© peter kelly
An angry wind blew cold
Through me instead of around me
As I heard the voices of the lost
And their futile muted pleas
For I knew where they came from
Because I came from there too
© peter kelly
Message from the poppy fields.
Turn back the years Pick through the bones That we left behind Examine our few remains You search in vain There is nothing For the raw rich stuff of life Has long since fled us
Resurrect our rusty weapons From the ever hungry earth Carefully place the faded rags Of uniforms which clothed us In warm museum halls For history must have its say Analyse, argue, theorize The why, the who, the when
Gaze upon the fading photographs Look down upon our faces Frozen in time In a tattered message Addressed to those Who are yet to come Those who still must serve
We were only human We bled, laughed, loved and cried Our carefree years stolen By a never ending tide To grasp the flag of freedom Watch it flutter in the breeze And we laid a strong foundation stone Of the world you have today
peter Kelly
A BEACH INTERRUPTED
The savage storm has passed And the sea that raged is calm With the wild white-crested waves Now only tide-swept trickles Edging gently towards the shore Which is now a complete carpet Of shipwrecked green seaweed Interspersed with patches of white As seagulls scavenge for food Squabbling and squawking In some mad state of ecstasy
The last clouds sweep past Giving permission to the sun To paint uninterrupted reflections And for the heat to slowly draw A smoky low steamy mist Swirling in a dervish dance From the now pungent seaweed Before it is devoured by nature
Here and there a variety of sea-life Imprisoned beneath the thick fronds Wait for the incoming waters To unshackle them from unsolicited Transient stranded cell confinement Whilst tidal currents clear the beach So that tomorrow may bring Footprints back to the sand
© peter Kelly Copyright 2017
An ode for Rabbie Burns BURNS NIGHT Oh Rabbie Burns where’er you be I hope you’ll raise a glass wi me A toast to Scotland and the brave To all bonnie lassies give a wave We’ll try a twenty year old malt Then worldly poets we’ll exalt The noble haggis let us bless With neeps and tatties – nothing less Now will ye give a verse or more For all the bards who’ve gone before “Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear And the rocks melt wi the sun ! And I will love thee still, my dear While the sands o life shall run†And fare thee weel, my only love! And fare thee weel , a while And I will come again, my love Tho it were ten thousand mile!†I’ll give a toast to thee my Bard And poets, present, past and gone So listen to the pipers play On this, your special day We’ll meet one day up in the sky Auld Robert Burns and I Peter Kelly © Copyright 2017
THE RED BICYCLE I waited – she was late But then, she always was Suddenly there she was pedaling Toward me on her red bike Strands of gleaming black hair Lashing her shoulders like bull whips Spurring her on as she drove the pedals With the easy grace of a trained model A bulging leather tasseled bag Swinging from her shoulder Like a crazed rag doll Her jeans looked as though They had been sprayed on In contrast to her sloppy T-shirt A size too large and cut Dangerously low under the arms Her demeanor – as always was one Of arrogant self assurance tinted with Large chunks of sexual provocation She allowed the bicycle Wheels still spinning, to fall Abandoned to the grassy bank Lips were fiercely met Whilst arms entwined my neck Leaning back she sighed Mumbling something I didn’t hear As our eyes locked together I knew then – but I had always known Since she first smiled at me I loved her – I always would. peter Kelly ©
SEASONS OF THE HEART The scent of spring suffuses As the song of larks Lift the long days of winter To the summers balm And on an April breeze The scented breath Of yellow tinted zephyrs Paints a promise Of moonstruck nights And so with nightingale and wine May kiss the lips of youth astray Honeysuckled nights delight The lovers blooming bliss And the moon revealing pale Caress demanding flesh To all the bark black trees My desiring eyes unsatisfied With sights that tantalize But fail to quench the thirst Of love I feel but cannot say Until the heat is past and all The birds of joy are flown away peter Kelly copyright 2017
THE BEACH
A cold dark angry sea Dispatches endless white topped waves Carrying torn seaweed and debris To crash upon the lonely shoreline Throwing myriad droplets of spray Which catch the intermittent sunlight And present a silver ballet In which hungry seagulls perform And a dozen tiny sand pipers dance Searching for anything edible Before – in a pirouette of unison They hover whilst the next wave Deposits its treasures on the sands The mysterious lone sock and a pink sandal Bottles without secret messages An escaped barnacle - crusted lobster pot That is now definitely unemployable And destined only for the incinerator With no funeral nor mourners For only the super tough survive In the harsh environmental brutality Of Mother Nature’s stark reality © peter Kelly
Jan. 2017
LET ME Let me walk with you through a rainbow Run with you in your dreams Hold your thoughts within my hands And warm your heart with bright sunbeams Let me whisper your name into the wind Banish all your silent fears Make love to your mind And taste the salted honey of your tears Let me take you on a journey Along the silken road of love To the golden land of paradise And release the snow white dove Peter Kelly
Copyright 2016
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