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Paul Holmes Poems
* A Tibute to Mary Jones
She opened a special Welsh Book Given as a present from a Friend, She daily set aside time to look Upon those words which her heart did mend.
Appearances can be deceptive, And to the superficial gaze The outside seems dull and grey Plain looking in many ways,
* Weathering the Storm
A Red Poppy basking in the radiant sun Sees deer and rabbits hastily run; They sense a storm in the breeze And race for shelter under mighty Oak trees.
Her Smile Makes Me Smile
Whenever I feel sad And life’s troubles wear me down I just look upon her face And no longer wear a frown.
A tiny fist Uncurls, Reaching out It grasps a finger;
A warm, clear turquoise sea Is the stage of a beautiful scene, A majestic stingray ballet Paints a picture so serene.
A Single Snowflake
One among billions Unique silver crystal Floating In a turquoise sky
Carried on a soft whisper Of a breeze Little bubbles float aloft, Delighting little children
Forwards and Backwards
One step forwards, two steps back Is a familiar manner we tread; We seem unsure of which way to go, A Labyrinth of routes in each head.
Footprints in Time
Walking on white Powder soft sand My footprints Left impressions,
* Haiku - Peacock Feather
</>What is this life we live these days When we have no time to stand and gaze At a stunning sunset on a summer’s eve Or, the delicate web a spider did weave.
For four-thousand years and more He’s withstood the tests of time; Extremes of heat and cold Haven’t cut him down in his prime;
Comments about Paul Holmes
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
* A Tibute to Mary Jones
She opened a special Welsh Book
Given as a present from a Friend,
She daily set aside time to look
Upon those words which her heart did mend.
For now she had the Holy Bible in her hand,
A priceless Treasure, at last acquired;
She walked barefoot across the hilly Land,
At sixteen, a feat to be admired!
Twenty-five-miles wasn’t much for her to bear;
Of this Book, she just had to get a hold –
Her desire and drive was something most rare
For a young girl to trek in the cold.
It must have felt like a soothing balm
To read those words at leisure...