Lift thine eyes

Lift thine eyes towards that star
That shines so high above,
My hopes and dreams shall travel far
Towards the one I love.
Lift thine eyes towards the skies
The heavens are as one,
But whn the sun does slowly rise
My love shall not be gone.
Lift thine eyes in longing now
My wish shall then come true,
I have no room left in my heart
Such love I hold for you.
Lift thine eyes towards that star,
My hopes and dreams shall travel far.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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What Joy

What joy has filled my empty heart
For so long starved of love,
My spirit floating through the air
And on the clouds above.

What joy has come to me at last
When all my hope had gone,
For finally my luck has changed
And fortune now has shone.

What joy when all I had was lost
Alone and poor was I,
But now my future seems so clear
Just like the summer sky.

What joy has filled my empty heart
Now it does sing for thee,
The love for which I'd waited long
Shall last eternally.

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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The Scarlet Petals

A storm had passed within the night
When wind and rain had lashed the land
Now all was still as sunlight crept
Into the August sky

The scarlet petals lay so still
Beneath the rose from which they fell
And held the fragrant raindrops
On their soft and velvet beds

They sparkled like a diamond's glow
As beams of dawning light shone down
And lit the ravaged garden
Where the rose did stand so bare

For stolen was its beauty
As it bloomed within its zestful prime
And taken without reason
When it had so much to give

poem by Andrew Blakemore
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On The Sixteenth Day Of August

On the sixteenth day of August
Came a newsflash on tv,
'The King of rock and roll has died
In Memphis Tennessee',
The cause of death his kindly heart
So generous and true,
His life cut short within his prime
At only forty two.

As thousands gathered at the gates
Of Graceland they did cry,
In disbelief and horror for
He was too young to die,
They prayed and then lit candles there
The flames did burn so bright,
And glistened like the stars above
And shone throughout the night.

They sang his songs together
And his music filled the air,

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poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Within The April Woodland Grow

Within the April woodland grow
The bluebells of the dawning spring,
A sea of blue like waves that flow
Upon the breeze they softly sing.

As now the boughs begin to leaf
The sun does shine with gentle beam,
To light the flowers there beneath
And glisten on the restful stream.

That through the woodland winds its way
And follows me where'er I tread,
For love has come to me this day
As to this land I now am wed.

My heart is filled with gladdened cheer
To see the sight and hear the sound,
To me the greatest time of year
When they adorn the barren ground.

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poem by Andrew Blakemore
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In The Shade Of The Green Wood

In the shade of the green wood
The holly does grow,
While in soft rays of sunlight
The wild roses glow,
And I smell their sweet perfume
That gently floats by,
Past trees strong and mighty
That reach to the sky,
The pathway of gold autumn
Leaves still remain,
As I walk through the green wood again.

In the shade of the green wood
This bright sunny morn,
That's so cool in the shadows
A new day is born,
All the birds in the treetops
Are singing for me,
Sweet songs of the summer
Which fill me with glee,

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poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Galleon Of Gold

And as I watch the breaking dawn
The sun begins to rise,
Above the scarlet clouds within
The early morning skies,
And as another day begins
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

I head out on a journey now
Not knowing where to go,
Searching for the rainbow's end
That never seems to show,
No treasure lies within my hand
My dreams I'll never hold,
Unless I sail across the ocean
In my galleon of gold.

Through seas so rough and stormy and
The winds that blow so strong,

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poem by Andrew Blakemore
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Through Falling, Falling Snow

As from my frozen window pane
I looked upon that winter's day,
The snow was drifting deep and crisp
And skies were darkest grey,
I did not wish to leave the warmth
Of home but knew I had to go,
And walk towards those factory gates
Through falling, falling snow.

I headed down those empty streets
Within the early morning light,
So hard each step I had to take
Through all life's bitter spite,
I longed to be back home again
As freezing winds did cruelly blow,
But headed to those factory gates
Through falling, falling snow.

I wondered where it all went wrong
Those thoughts remained within my mind,

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poem by Andrew Blakemore
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