To wonder, contemplate, mull over, consider reflectively, ponder or meditate upon — usually in silence.


Shame about the weather, ay, it rather emotional, all over the place,
Sunny smile one day, cloudy frown another, then comes those wild gusts in our face.
And then it sheds its tears, we the unfortunate victims of its moody swings,
Those stormy temper tantrums where it booms and crackles — and oh, how that hail stings!

Yes, love is very special, and it’s kind of heart shaped, so I’m told,
And also red, though some say that he or she has a heart of gold.
Well, though that makes things confusing, it really doesn’t bother me,
Just so long as love’s beating within me, and universally.

“Hi there, how are you today?”, you will often hear folk say,
Yet, when one says, “Not good,” some folk are quick to turn away.
It’s funny how they ask you, yet, don’t seem to want to hear
When problems you share with them in the hope they’ll show some care.

I love my little garden, it’s so full of pretty flowers,
And when the sun is shining, I oft work in it for hours.
I have a little visitor who likes to help as well,
But one who keeps digging little holes that I’m forced to fill.

Everyone's gone to the moon and I’m sitting here on my own feeling a right fool,
And trying to figure out how to work everything, (oh, I should’ve stayed at school),
Well, what’s left, I should say, given that everything is in a state of disrepair,
And why I can’t be bothered getting dressed, getting a shower or combing my hair.

I really mustn’t grumble, for although I took a little tumble,
I landed with my face in a delicious, scrumptious apple crumble.
So please pass the cream, for one should always make the best of a bad thing,
Hence why in-between mouthfuls, the merits of puddings I loudly sing.

We’ve visitors to our tree, (who come quite regularly),
And gobble at the berries ’till they get fat and heavy.
When they go to fly away, they descend before they rise,
Which just goes to show that overeating is far from wise.

What is a hedgehog doing trotting about during the day,
For hedgehogs usually come out when it’s night time, don’t they?
Lost your watch? Too tired to sleep? Confused? Extra hungry, maybe?
Well, I wouldn’t be long — there’s much more traffic about, you see.

What’s all the noise about, little sparrow? Enough’s enough!
You’ve been waking people up, leaving them grumpy and gruff.
Can’t you tone it down a bit? You are rather loud, you know,
And PLEASE — not in that oak tree that’s right outside our window.

There’s a fly in my soup, it either swimming or stuck,
And it’s still got its dirty old boots on — of all the luck!
It’s not as if it has showered and wiped itself down,
Hence why I'm very unhappy and sporting a frown.

You’re born into this world and want to have your say, because nobody owns you,
But when you go to speak it’s mind you don’t say this or say that, or how dear you.
But you say it anyway knowing that you’ve a right, and no one else being you,
And this being why the only one who can say what you think and believe is you!


"Should love come my way, would I recognise it?" enquired the little boy.
"Oh yes," I replied, and I hugged him, and at such he expressed much joy.
"Was that it?" he asked, and I nodded my head, for love he hadn't known,
And I wondering if he ever would have if such I hadn't shown.

It’s very clear that in order to throw mud, one has to stoop,
As it’s only from the ground that such mucky mire one can scoop.
Yes, such is beneath one’s feet, where it should stay, like it’s meant to,
And not be flying through the air to land where it shouldn't do.

Your response might be, “I don’t care what folk may think, I know I’m innocent,” and
You may well be, but why go ahead with something that will play into their hand.
It’s better to refrain from what will have folk guessing or evil surmising,
For when we don’t, other people’s judgments and wrong perceptions aren’t surprising.

Yes, think of all the billions that many nations spend on war,
That could soon ease the poverty and misery of the poor.
It's time we dismantled weapons, spent more time pursuing peace,
Finding new alternatives so that earth's problems might decrease.

Life is a lesson book, hence we’re always learning, and we will continue to,
For we’re so prone to straying, getting things wrong, and foolishness often pursue.
Even after we learn that something doesn’t pay, seems we have to learn again,
For often we repeat such, and the lesson of the first time is lost by then.

A smile is a kindly thing and more so when we are feeling down,
Or when we’ve been on the receiving end of a judgmental frown.
Yes, a smile can lift our spirits, make a difference to our day,
Which is why we should smile too whenever someone else comes our way.

Some people seem quite happy to sell their soul to the devil, and others their freedom and liberty,
The latter effectively being their soul, and simply in order to gain some sort of security.
Seems that they don’t realise that there’s no security in relinquishing ones freedom and liberty,
And that its only when one has their freedom and liberty that they actually have security.

If the dead could contact the living — that is, human beings — they’d hardly need mediums, alias con-men,
Who heartlessly and deludedly empty the pockets of vulnerable people, time and time again.
So much for consumer rights, given such is just a mind game, a huge deception, and on the rise today,
For if one is clever enough, it’s easy pickings, for it’s simply all in those deceitful things they say.

Doctor Sunshine clearly knows that depression is not the blues,
Therefore — hellish darkness — and just being down — he doesn’t confuse.
Yes, depression’s a world of its own, a galaxy apart,
So, for those who suffer from such, please have a sensitive heart.

People say that it’s a different world now, and if such is so, then we only have ourselves to blame,
For this earth doesn’t change on its own, but rather, via us — hence that question, why is our world not the same?
Well, lets take a look at ourselves and what we’ve been doing, for it’s clear that some changes need to be made,
That is, in order to get things back to where they were, (if possible), for foolishness has never paid.

The way we treat another human is very telling — a dead giveaway —
For it shouts how much we care about others and reveals our heart, mind and way.
Yes, whether we’re racial, bigoted, indifferent, selfish, vain, cruel, crude, hard,
Or quite the opposite of such things, and thereby, that we’ve a cleaner backyard.

He or she's very opinionated, folk say, viewing such negatively rather than positively,
Fore there’s nothing wrong with holding certain opinions — or indeed many — so let’s not act so hastily.
So long as folk have an open mind, they can hold all the opinions they like, and thinking people tend to,
Unlike those who give little thought to things, and who tend to fall in with the flow — a path they’ve oft cause to rue.

I’ve no problem with people expressing their view, and they should do,
But I’ve no time for in your face approaches that some folk pursue.
Yes, they watching like hawks to counter whatever you’ve got to say,
And this, midst beating some obsessive drum, day after tiring day.

Have you ever seen that hurt in someone else's eyes? — thanks to lies, alias betrayal come final nail, and hence no surprise,
Yes, that pained and injured look, for someone cruelly took, alias stole, self being their goal, hence how love often dies.
Hurt that travelled very deep, robbing them of joy, security and sleep, and now conveyed via innocent eyes,
Eyes that reflect a broken heart, a toppled applecart, upset by callous hands that sank plans, and ignored cries.

Yes, I find it funny how you judge me, and yet, know so little about me,
Which is one good reason why I wouldn’t want you knowing more, quite honestly.
For after all, if you’re that sort of person, how often might you misjudge me?
Given that you’re clearly prone to such, and that we can’t know someone totally.

If you have done your time, (having been most unwise), don’t look back, but seize that day that freedom gives,
For should you not, there’s every chance you’ll end up back inside where opportunity hardly lives.
Yes, the more distance between you and those iron gates the better, good never found behind such walls,
For there one’s soul is trampled upon, liberty just a nice sounding word, and oh, how time crawls.

We can wax lyrical about love, believe in the God that's above, but if we’re unkind,
Our words are plain meaningless, even offensive, and God’s hardly in our heart and mind.
Yes, we can say all the right things, but how hollow it all rings, should our life be a lie,
For what others hear from our lips but don’t see in our life, they’re hardly likely to buy.

What colour is love, I wonder? Could it be wounded red,
Terribly blue, even green, or naively pink instead?
Or is it not coloured at all, just our feelings, maybe,
For shouldn't love be neutral, it transparent and stain free?

I have a garden full of veggies, and a sign saying, “Take any,”
But some veggies I have don’t seem to appeal, despite there being many.
So what do some people do? They ignore my lush garden completely,
Which despite being a sad mentality, reminds me of bigotry.

Though fitting words have their place, and therefore, clearly should be said,
It’s always best that they come from the heart, and not from the head.
Though the head may be wise, it errs when it’s detached from the heart,
For it’s the heart that steers the soul, and convincing’s but an art.

I'd rather be shown love than told all about it,
Plus an example's of far greater benefit.
And thus why words are only words and nothing more,
Until love in person comes walking through the door.

It’s hardly racial when we don’t care for some culture’s thinking or ways, (their colour no issue),
But simply certain differences that rub, like those curtains tied in a knot and yanked askew.
Now, perhaps that’s not a cultural thing, but if it were, it’s not prejudice if it annoys,
But simply something that some folk like and others don’t, just like children prefer different toys.

Seems the world is out to knock the happy-to-be-at-home housewife and mother, who,
As well as being there when her children come home from school, dotes on her husband too.
No, such hardly old fashioned but a choice that a woman's entitled to make,
Just like that career minded woman who a different path chooses to take.

When a man’s worshipped-cum-revered, we not only have the makings of a cult,
But ISIS type possibilities and serious issues as a result.
For all he has to do is say God says do this or that and off go his pawns,
They not realising that they’re expendable until finally the truth dawns,

If it does, that is, and usually too late.

I’m so glad that I am me, and not what other people want me to be,
For I must be myself, nothing more, nothing less, lest soon I not be me.
So folk can push and pull for all they’re worth, stomp all over my poetry,
But they’re wasting their time, for I refuse to be anyone else but me.

All muses by the Author.