Patrick van der Loos

A shadow of clouds on the horizon
Tall, dark and brooding, with sun kissed peaks
Reminding me of home,
Childhood memories
...

When the game is over
And you are tired of playing
When the score's been counted
And the fickle crowds have found a new spectacle
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The stars shine bright in the clear morning air.
Not a cloud can be seen as Jack Frost goes about
His crystalline dance upon the streets of the world.
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While the rest of the world breaks free from a week of drudgery,
He holes himself up with the very instruments which others seek to escape from.
A mean of writing, and paper.
Crooked neck and aching hands,
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Mechanical music lost to the nearest pages of history
A dance of metal and ribbon
Incomprehensible to the children of today
An idea of a machine locked inside
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Faith, its the saviour of all.
A test of wits.
Less a fault of mind,
Than a show of spirit.
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This is the start of something new.
This isn't where it ends.
A single breath stands not alone.
Life goes on.
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The clock keeps ticking.
All the hours of a day.
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Don't go throwing it all away,
You don't know where the path
You are on will lead you.
Don't go throwing it all away,
...

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The Old Family Car.
Well loved.
A faithful servant for many years.
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A Poem,
What is it besides a window?
A window into the mind of the writer
A stream of thoughts
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I wrote a poem yesterday
It was a masterpiece, a sure thing
On the radio I would tell it
The host would praise its prose,
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Strange is the day
A thousand ideas roll through this endless factory of my mind
So much to do, so much to say
But the body is lacking
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What a life
Says one man about another
Never looking at what he has achieved
Ones worth is always more than other eyes will see
...