Humour | Romance | Life


The storm king.

The storm king rises from hell again,
He rides our earth in thunderous cloud,
Lightnings flash, you know his presence is here,
To minister death and destruction he is avowed.

His torrential rain he deluges on to our mountain tops,
For hours and hours, it never stops.
He roars with laughter as it cascades on to the plains below,
The rain floods the rivers which wash away our precious crops.

His tempests in the sky are a fiery red,
His lightning forks destroy many a homestead.
The winds roar in at his command,
Lash this earth till all feelings are fled.

The night is long and dark as this king savages earth,
From his chariot he devastates all, fuelling his mirth.
Why O’Lord do you allow this monster to rise and rule,
You are our king, your servants appear of little worth.


I stand at your grave
There will be no tomorrow.
For the two of us
There will be no tomorrow.
We had a happy life ahead
There will be no tomorrow.
You sleep forever my love
There will be no tomorrow.
Your smiling eyes
Will see no tomorrow.
Cruel fate took your life
There will be no tomorrow.
Our dreams are destroyed
There will be no tomorrow.
My heart is broken
There will be no tomorrow.
I stare into the mirror of sorrow
There will be no tomorrow.
I miss you so my love
There will be no tomorrow
The joy of my life is gone
There will be no tomorrow.
Tomorrow will be mourned with pain and sorrow
Farewell my love, Farewell my love,
For us there will be no tomorrow,
Farewell my love,
I will not forget
The bond of love we did beget.
Farewell my love

This poem is inspired by the words of Adele Eastman whose loved one was brutally murdered by two young thugs.
This will reach out to all those who have lost dear ones, especially now when so many of our brave soldiers are dying in foreign faraway lands.

The soldiers were on the march

The soldiers were on the march,
For some death was not far away.
The soldiers were on the march,
It was time for their loved ones for their safety to pray.
The soldiers were on the march,
The enemy was waiting, no turning back.
The soldiers were on the march,
Soon they would be facing enemy shell and flack.
The soldiers were on the march,
In each soldier was an element of fear.
The soldiers were on the march,
Would they ever see their loved ones again most dear.
The soldiers were on the march,
To fight for queen and country they were told.
The soldiers were on the march,
They prayed when face to face with the enemy they would be bold.
The soldiers were on the march,
Kill or be killed was the order of the day.
The soldiers were on the march,
Their hearts were hardened, determined the enemy they slay.
The soldiers were on the march,
They knew this march for some could be for the last time.
The soldiers were on the march,
They could hear the battle raging in the front line.
The soldiers were on the march,
Would death touch him or take his mate?
The soldiers were on the march,
Whether they won or lost, lived or died, was in the hands of fate.
The soldiers were on the march,
Would they ever enjoy the simple pleasures of life again?
The soldiers were on the march,
Would they return in a coffin or listen to the victory refrain.
The soldiers were on the march,
Was it death or victory which was beckoning.
The soldiers were on the march,
Only those who survived would know if this was the day of reckoning.

Rochester Castle

Early morning mists swirl around the castle’s keep
Rochester’s ancient castle in history is steeped.
It stands proud on the shore of the River Medway,
Many warring armies in it did stay.

In the past it was of great import,
Great battles for its control have been fought.
Now it stands majestic and battle weary,
Scarred and battered by wars fury.

Today “Friends of the Castle” show visitors around,
The views from the battlements will astound.
The green downs, woods and fields are for all to see,
The River Medway adds to a picture of beauty you will agree.

The castle grounds each year is home to many a celebration,
It is directly attached to the famous Rochester High St.
For visitors making it a desirable combination.
The “Charles Dickens” and the “Sweeps” festivals keep Rochester’s history alive,
Oldie world presentations help to make the Medway Towns thrive.

On a summer’s evening sitting by the Medway’s river side,
One can vision knights and soldiers in their stride,
Preparing for battle, to defeat the on coming foe,
Fighting hand to hand, blow by blow.

You are glad you are in Rochester today,
Missing the blood and gore of another affray.
Go home tonight and enjoy your sleep,
Let the past of Rochester historians keep.

Nature’s chain of life

The snake moved silently through the dark,
In spite of its huge size it hardly left a mark.
He was on its way to the cooling river,
On arrival into it would gently slither.
After cooling down from the jungle heat,
On the river banks he would search for his next eat.

If in the mood he could climb a tree,
Swallowing bird’s eggs and chicks with glee.
In the darkness of the night he hunted bigger prey,
To eat sleeping duck or goose would make his day.
Then devour the eggs or chicks to finish off the meal,
To obtain this success, being hungry, he was full of zeal.

The unfortunate ducks didn’t know he was around,
He sidled up to their nest not creating a sound.
He positioned himself to strike with speed,
To swallow the drake would help satisfy his need.
The anaconda struck, in seconds the drake was dead,
The duck screamed and for her life fled.

This giant water boa gorged on the eggs left in the nest,
Time to go back to his domain and rest, and let his meal digest.
Our anaconda slid back into the water, content and sated,
Only to meet his end by an alligator who had waited,
Having seen this anaconda previously pass by,
To catch him this hungry monster would try.

The predator’s massive jaws snapped onto his victim’s head,
The snake wriggled and writhed, soon it was dead.
All life in this world depends on devouring the food chain below,
If it didn’t, there couldn’t be the world today that we know.

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