simon thorpe

A true friendship is Golden,
It lasts for eternity, not for a fleeting moment,
It endures petty squabbles and unkind words,
it endures because it is Golden.
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A whisper on the wind,
fluttering leaves carrying memories of bygone days,
our lives intrinsically entwined with natures majesty,
I am the heron swooping to capture its prize,
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An awakening of the soul to find
A sensual unveiling of the mind,
The mysteries of life explained,
Inner knowledge finally unchained.
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You are the sultry, setting sun,
All the colours of the rainbow after the storm,
You are the fiery, flame that warms my heart,
The subtle. Sublime smell of freshly cut grass.
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November rain shrouding the light,
Somewhere the sun will set, a crimson red,
Not here, not today,
Feeling festive, feeling silly,
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The bond of family is strong at heart,
The same blood runs through us, a distance between us but never apart,
The harshness of life can be brutal and cold,
The strength we find in aversity, means we stand united, steadfast and bold,
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The melancholy lament of the Nightingale invades the silence of the early morn,
Its haunting tale heralding the break of the new dawn,
its song is a ballad of heartbreak and joy in equal measure,
Golden memories stored for eternity, a priceless treasure.
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sweet solitude, silent and soulful,
The nightingale swooning to its own melancholy overtures,
a rustle of leaves, the squirell hoarding for the winter break,
The wooded glaze beyond sings to natures hauntingly beautiful tune.
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As I peer into the window of your mind,
I light the candle of hope searching for wisdom to find,
The flickering, flame of fiery torment,
becalmed, at one yet emotionally spent.
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Tears of regret frozen to winters morbid face,
An icy heart entwined in cobwebbed lace,
It's the time for giving, for being a friend indeed,
It's a time to make the world happier for those desperately in need,
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Two weeks to go until the man in red arrives,
A shiny sleigh pulled by reindeer he drives,
The air will be filled with children's joy and laughter,
A quick thought though for peace thereafter.
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Rain and tears pour down the window of my life
Dark, dank drudgery shrouding the light
They say where there’s life there is hope
But for me an inexorably endless tunnel awaits
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The heavens are distressed this morning,
A thunderous roar erupts piercing the break of dawn,
Rain lashes incessantly against the window pane,
I burrow deeper into myself,
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Eyes cold as ice, black as coal,
staring lifelessly ahead to a distant dream,
The sun will not rise today,
I am left with memories of bygone days,
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Autumns gold and green,
is a joy to behold,
swirling mist shrouding the land,
as the heron surveys rich pickings below,
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Darkness engulfs the soul,
Night shrouding the daylight with a cloak of envy,
Jealous of the sultry, shimmering sunset that illuminated the skyline,
Demonic with dark despair,
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