Facets Of Diamonds

Look upwards and feel the burst of a newly formed sunbeam.
Reach and touch the buttercups, see their yellow petals gleam.
Admire the pink clover, and spy the vetch with purple hue,
Watch as the warming sunshine opens up their segments, new.

Wander over the plush banks of a gently flowing stream,
Smooth as silk it slips along, teasing the bronze greenish bream.
Trickling away in no great hurry, sparkling in the light,
Throwing out facets of diamonds. What a glorious sight.

Fix one’s gaze on the sun lit hills that blend under distant clouds,
Floating way above the everyday pressures and the crowds.
Feel the sense of freedom that such expanse gives to the mind,
Loving peaceful moments spent in this place, which God designed.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Just Another Moment

There he is, crossing the road,
very slowly, walking away from me.

I recognise his back, the way he walks,
his smart clothes, his elegant stride.

Once we were face to face,
united together in an embrace,
which was so powerful, filled with such desire.

Now we are no longer face to face.
All that remains is a back view,
a totally blank view.

Memories come flooding back,
I feel a pain so intense, causing an emptiness within me,
that will never go away.

And as I look towards him,
he is suddenly engulfed by a crowd of shoppers.

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Incumbent

The trees hid the house from curious passers-by,
For branches had grown thick o’er the years,
Contentment that permeated inside the walls, high,
Was now shattered by dissolution and tears.

Many were the days that the incumbent would cry,
No happiness now, just her fears.
Having been so elated, always in the public eye,
She now had to face all the jeers.

A recluse she’d become, all were trying to pry,
Callous rumours had come to her ears,
This famous star, feted, was now wary and shy,
For the newspapers had started such smears.

Something in her past, that she couldn’t deny,
Was located by some cruel scrutineers,
But if you’re in the limelight, one thing you can’t buy,
Is your privacy, that’s for cold profiteers.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Keep The Gravity

We should value the fact that our precious earth,
is spinning around for all it is worth.
And because it is, we must not scoff,
for if it stopped whirling, we’d all fall off,
To float out into the wide blue unknown,
each of us completely on our own.
A suspended speck, some useless debris,
gliding into universal history.

Keep revolving sphere, we require your speed,
keeping the gravity that we all need.
Please do not halt, we have no desire
to see outer space, and then to expire.
With no oxygen, our life would conclude,
causing a disaster of such magnitude.
It makes one think and start to realise
That this orb holds us safe within the skies.

Our planet’s a wondrous globe so vast,
And its fashioning is totally unsurpassed.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Daft Crackpot

Parky the penguin felt so low,
He didn’t really like the snow,
Or the blustery winds that blow
Across his icy world.

Parky the penguin thought that he
Would find a boat and go to sea,
He needed to be wild and free,
Gone from his icy world.

Parky the penguin sailed away,
Spotted a sunny sandy bay,
Where he could laze around all day.
Unlike his icy world.

Parky the penguin got so hot,
And could not find one shady spot,
He knew he was a daft crackpot,
Leaving his icy world.

[...] Read more

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Old Shanty Town

With the heat of the sun,
As it fiercely beats down,
There's no shade to be won,
In this old Shanty Town.

The rough row of shacks,
To be seen up and down,
Are riddled with cracks,
In this old Shanty town.

The winds, blowing hard,
Send the tumbleweed down,
To take over a graveyard,
In this old Shanty Town.

And weird echoes resound,
Through doors broken down,
And no welcome is found,
In this old Shanty Town.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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This Red Balloon

This red balloon with broken string is floating into the sky,
I watch it swaying and jerking, as it enters the atmosphere,
Lost sadly to this earth of ours, it now says a last goodbye,
Sailing towards the fleecy clouds, it invites the wind to steer.

Had a small hand let go the string, so escape was rather fast,
Twirling away, those powerful currents assuring a final climb.
Slowly receding into the blue, disappearing back to the past,
Lost in that extensive vast place, a gap in space and time.

Unencumbered now, it unhurriedly continues to journey on,
Perhaps it was a child's treasure, a simple pleasing thing,
Thinking about it, to whom I wonder, did it once belong,
This red balloon, that's floating with a trailing broken string.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Why Is It!

That…………
When you find a dress that’s a delight, it’s far too tight!
When you find just the right merchandise, it’s not in your size!
When you find a perfect fitting shoe, it’s in brown not blue!
When you find a shop that caters for your age, nothing in it is ‘the rage’!
When you search for nice elegant clothes, where you get them from, heaven knows!
You’re trying to look real smart, and not a tart, but the only designs are for the lower teens, .
At least there are jeans!
Oh, please don’t make us look so out of date, it’s not too late, to be an older beauty, a real cutie!
We’re certainly not past our ‘sale by’ date, never underrate us, MATE! ! !
There’s more to us than meets the eye, SWEETIE PIE! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Somewhere Precious

A sun bleached fence facing the sea.
Sand dunes, sea grass, on windblown shore.
Seagulls hovering, wings spread wide,
calling as they’ve done times before.

A welcome break from hard routine.
A pressure gone, a restful spell.
Sitting with backs against the slats,
of this stockade, with fears to quell.

When last we surveyed the blue sea,
the tide was laundering the sands.
As up the beach we watched it race,
and touched its ripples with our hands.

Cool salty air invades weak lungs,
giving us a refreshing lift.
With tickling grains between our toes,
our relaxed minds begin to drift.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Spots Of Embroidery

Snowflakes dancing along in the air,
all tantalisingly twirled with care.
Flurries of white floss whirling in flight,
landing and dusting all objects in sight.

Silently descending, down they glide,
chasing each other, so far, so wide.
A lace curtain hung across the sky.
A soft quilt, the land, to occupy.

Ice crystals in six fold symmetry,
Feathery spots of embroidery.
Every design unique to the eye,
patterns unseen, as they float by.

Oh, what delight to watch their descent,
tumbling about to such extent,
that a blanket is laid over the ground,
where heavy footsteps can make no sound.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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