Something So Profound

Showers spilling through the sunbeams,
Refreshing the parched earth below,
Filling up all the thirsty streams,
That meander along, oh, so slow.

Washing away all the grey dust,
Which has settled on flowers and leaves,
Brightening their wonderful colours, just
To show us the magic it weaves.

With galoshes and bright red umbrella,
And waterproof capes, we're just fine,
One needs to have, a repeller,
When this land becomes estuarine.

Having splashed about in each puddle,
Which we've found along the lane,
We stand under the brolly and cuddle,
To the pattering raindrops refrain.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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This Great Outdoors

Standing on an old wooden bridge,
I look upwards towards a hilly ridge,
Where trees of every shade of green,
Hug the sides of a deep ravine,
And gentle paths are found, between
Bushes and shrubs, where they convene,
And one can happily walk for miles,
Past so many wild creatures domiciles.

Whilst scanning the river bed below,
Watching a meandering, peaceful flow
Of water, trickling over the weir,
So sweet to drink and oh, so clear.
I study the minnow and stickleback,
Then realise I'm without my anorak,
For I perceive there's a chill in the air,
Of which I've suddenly become aware.

So with an audible sigh, I start to leave,
And my way homewards, I start to weave.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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This Journal Of Mine

I have written a book of memories,
It is stored inside my mind,
And recorded on its pages,
Are many stories all entwined.

Journeys through my childhood,
And on into my teenage years,
Then reaching full maturity,
Sampling a variety of careers.

It only takes a few seconds,
This journal of mine to access,
Encountering joy and sorrow,
Tears of pain and happiness.

Experiences and adventures,
Lots of hellos and goodbyes,
People all intermingled,
In my conscience, which personifies.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Turning Back The Clock

Each day finds me in the spotlight
up above my mirror hung.
Revealing all my blemishes,
which can stop me looking young.

The jaw line is not so taut now,
and eyelids are drooping fast.
I’d hoped to grow old gracefully,
but the job ahead is vast.

Every hour brings on wrinkles,
which seem to be very deep,
The make-up kit cannot conceal,
when the imperfections creep.

I dab on sheer beige foundation,
what’s missing is pencilled in.
Some rosy lips to draw the eye
from the flaws upon the chin.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Patterns In The Snow

Overnight the flakes had descended,
and left a carpet of pure white,
A fox awakened from his sleep,
patrolled the frosty night,
The silent frozen world had now,
become a canvas, new,
For patterns to be created,
by the feet of creatures, who
Had ventured out to sample
this delightful snowy land,
Fashioned by an invisible Master,
with his gifted hand.

His paints so subtle, had with skill,
produced true moonlight hues,
Such lovely shades of brilliant white,
soft yellows and deep blues,
An eerie earth, a changed and strange
vast open wide expanse,
Where, up above, each dainty snowflake,

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Waiting For Her Knock

He leaned across and pulled the window closed,
What future would he have now, he supposed
If what he so desired could all come true,
He would no longer be downcast and blue,
But she was not even near, nowhere in sight,
The thought that she, with luck, perhaps just might
Keep to her word, had now become remote.
A tight restriction welled up in his throat.
She'd said she would arrive at two o'clock,
How nerve wracking this waiting for her knock,
But looking at the time, it now was five,
No good to still keep faith and hope alive.
It was obvious, she didn't want to know,
To his heart and pride, it was a vicious blow.
A tap upon the door, could that be her,
His whole dispirited being began to stir,
'Do you want to buy my pegs', the Gypsy said,
But he had fled!

poem by Ernestine Northover
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One Bloom

The tiny flower raised up its face to me,
and seemed to say, oh, how I do agree,
that in fact its such a delightful day,
with my friends around me in full array.
We brighten all the green hedgerows cut neat,
and ask, ‘please do watch where you put your feet’.

The tiny flower danced in the cooling breeze,
and down I knelt beside it, on my knees,
seeing such sweet beauty there in its face,
gracing this warm, sunny and pleasant place.
Smiling at the ever changing weather,
the cold wind, sun, rain and snow together.

The tiny flower actually made me think,
how such a dainty thing, blushing so pink,
could lift my spirit, wonderfully high,
when here I am, simply passing it by.
And yet it had caused me to stop and stare,
at this one bloom so extraordinaire.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Lifting Of My Heart

I stepped over the rickety wooden stile,
and entered a meadow of sweetness.
Clover, daisies and buttercups
all intermingled in a silent chorus of song.

Insects buzzed in the warming sun,
and the country air
filled my lungs
with a sharp freshness.

Looking into the distance,
I watched, as a flock of birds
took to the air,
swooping across the sky,
calling joyously
in their freedom.

The World had stopped to give me
one afternoon
of sheer exhilaration.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Enrich My Heart

Play me a great symphony to enrich my heart,
Perform a concerto, to entrance me, please,
This music, so uplifting, always make it a big part
Of your life. Embrace the melody with ease.

Listen with depth to the harmony, which it brings,
Such rhythm will always weave around your day.
The volume of sound, in your mind, forever sings,
And the orchestration bears your cares away.

Dream slowly along, with those gentle tunes, which float,
Soothing your intense and trying world,
Drifting so softly, relaxing down with every note,
Thus letting your very essence, become unfurled.

Play me a great symphony to enrich my heart,
Perform a concerto, to entrance me, please,
Then I'll feel forever, the refrain within me start,
When I hear the euphony exuding from piano keys.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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One Great Event In Time

One little life, sent to change all lives.
One child of love and peace.
One holy blessing sent from God,
His wonders to increase.

One precious gift of a gentle Babe,
One marvel to the earth.
One dear voice to teach us how to know,
the reasons for his birth.

One star that shone with brilliant light,
One manger for his bed.
One Mother Mary so full of joy,
within loaned cattle shed.

One tiny soul came to save us all,
One dear Redeemer’s Son,
One man who walked, talked and healed,
His glory had begun.

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poem by Ernestine Northover
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