Our Beautiful Home

If all the world looked black and white,
And a pale grey moon came out at night.
You wouldn’t know if summer had come,
And winter, only when your fingers grew numb.

With a colourless sun rising in an ashen sky,
You would be pallid and so would I.
What a boring life we would then conduct,
Better that the planet should self destruct.

For colour is such a joy to behold,
But earth would be so dull and cold.
We take for granted our beautiful home,
We’d never be happy with monochrome.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Didn't Realize

Hey, why are you sitting on a cloud, dangling your legs over the edge?

Come down to earth and find reality, not dreams, and make a pledge,
to try and make an effort to succeed
with your feet firmly planted on the ground,
and where no shadows can obscure your mind,
so that your future’s sound.

Hey, WHY ARE YOU sitting on a cloud?

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your situation,
but of course you're dead right, I can see that now.
Please accept my commiserations.

Eternal dreams!

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Pieces Of Fragile Lace

A spider spins a micro fine thread, her gentle web to weave,
It is with awe, that we behold this art, one can't believe
This work, viewed on a frosty morn, portrays pieces of fragile lace,
How can a tiny creature create these patterns, with silent grace.

She works with great dedication, using skills beyond belief,
Securing her thread to one, and then another sturdy leaf,
Or twig, or gate, or fence, or flower, whatever is to hand,
A magical spun gossamer, her love sealed in every strand.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Lois And Luke

Two arms to wrap around them,
A hand to wipe a tear,
These little ones are part of me,
Of that, it's pretty clear.

Their faces light up when we meet,
Raised up for me to kiss,
And shining bright, four eyes of blue,
Fill me with utter bliss.

She chatters out her latest news,
Pride written in her smile,
He's only very little yet,
But he knows how to beguile.

I feel a joining of my soul
With them, we have such fun,
It's lovely to hear my name ring out,
And one Granny's heart is won.

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Ending Of The Task

Sultry is the air,
and birds and bees are mellifluous in their vocal songs.
One becomes aware,
of a sense of peace and tranquillity for which one longs.

A soft cooling breeze,
whispers through the trees, leaving a feeling of sheer respite.
So that one can seize,
the restful calm, as the whole of nature’s forces unite.

What more can one ask
for, the day has become serene and undisturbed by stress.
Ending of the task,
complete affinity is achieved - harmoniousness.

© Ernestine Northoer

poem by Ernestine Northover
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That Iron Lady

A proud, regal, majestic and elegant machine,
She's a magnificent sight, this metal powered dream
Pulsating over hundreds of miles of railway track,
Never once to be found, ever looking back,
Onward with a purpose, watch how she races,
Visiting destinations, in so many far off places,
Pushing on, with such vigorous determination,
Giving not one thought, or one moment's hesitation,
Dedicated loyal service, she's an engine so supreme,
That romantic iron lady, from the golden age of steam.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Works Of Art

Corn Circles scattered across our land,
Are they by aliens, or by humans planned,
Patterns so intricate, they so amaze,
Is it a hostile message, or just a craze.

There seems no answer to this weird event,
No wonder the farmers, feel such torment,
Whether they appear from outer space,
Or are created by our own earthly race.

One day the fields are all high with corn,
Next day one finds a design is born,
But they really are such works of art,
Even if someone is trying to outsmart,
Us all!

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Call Me Back

I'm drifting in an unreal world,
I cannot accept it's real,
My life's changing in many ways,
I don't know how I feel.

I struggle to know what's normal,
And what is now valid for me,
I shrug off all reality,
And move into a fantasy.

This strange land I inhabit,
Is neither here nor there,
I walk and talk, but in a dream,
Of such numbness, I'm aware.

Call me back to the land of the living,
Where my soul can be restored,
Let me find a place within my heart,
For that someone I so adored.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sweetest Balm

Its red bricks appeared mellow in the sun,
as day was done.
Ivy climbing up the high gable side,
clung on with pride.
Grey slate roof shone silver, splashed by the rain,
now on the wane.
Peaceful spot to end the long toiling hours,
washed by showers.
One golden sunset is claiming the scene,
all’s freshly clean.
A welcome back, a fine uplifting sight,
when falls the night.
This perfect setting is all quiet and calm,
Oh, sweetest balm.
My house a perfect haven just for me,
great place to be.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Welcomed Intruder

She flew in from the Countryside,
She flew in through my front door,
She whizzed around my kitchen,
She skimmed across my floor.

She totally took over,
As if she knew the place,
Speed seemed to be of the essence,
To make this room her base.

I felt completely gob-smacked,
She took me by surprise,
This ladybird, there on my plant,
Scoffed my aphids as a prize.

A small and harmless insect,
With a penchant for a 'grand tour',
If she ever calls on me again,
She'll be welcome, that's for sure!

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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