Repose
Looking outside at the evening,
And watching the shadows fall,
Late sunshine embraces the old red brick
Of a propped up garden wall.
The slight movement of the branches
Of a ruby red berried tree,
Give a wonderful effect to the sunset,
And a comforting feel to me.
Peace arrives with the twilight,
And my busy mind wins repose.
All is at rest and a stillness descends
As the sky’s dark curtains close.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Joker
Hello there, who are you?
Do I know you? give us a clue,
Have we already met somewhere before.
Your face is quite familiar,
It's some place in my memorabilia,
I studied you as you came through the door.
Now what can be your name,
Is it linked to some great fame,
Should I ask politely for your autograph.
No really, I.m only joking,
It's a bit of fun I'm poking,
Hello my love, my wonderful other half.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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New Dreams Begin
To sit with mind in heightened state,
With thoughts evolving constantly.
Talking within, in great debate,
It really is a malady.
How can one sort these whirling words,
That keep rotating endlessly.
Must stop these flying weaverbirds,
So frenzied, trying to get free.
Send me releasing, calming joy,
Wildness depart. New dreams begin.
Then, just go let this charm employ,
Backed by strings of a mandolin.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Umbrellas In The Rain
An assortment of coloured umbrellas,
Fending off the rain,
I wonder if those, concealed underneath,
Have had lives disturbed by pain,
With the greyness of the sky above,
Their bodies crouching low,
What is the message that greets the eye
Where do all these 'bodies' go,
There's a feeling that they may be hiding
Not only from the rain,
But that is just a 'thought' of mine,
And I could be wrong - again!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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We Praise Him Still
It came upon a midnight dear,
A baby's cry, a mother's tear,
A babe to change this earthly sphere,
A saviour who is always near.
He came to save us all from sin,
So we our lives could now begin,
He was to us our own dear kin,
Our hearts he would forever win.
We celebrate his holy birth,
With joy and love, with songs and mirth,
His teachings are so full of worth,
We praise him still, upon this earth.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Play The Music
Music, spangled with harmony,
trickling over the core of our senses.
This volume of sound resonates,
and like pearl droplets, echoes through the caverns
of our mind.
They elevate and transport us along,
weaving pure elation, vibrating with such amplification,
that all the universe sings,
and the melody reverberates into infinity.
Play the music,
it soothes the soul,
and steadies the beat of the heart.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Her No.1 Fan
She is so sweet, and only three feet,
Her golden hair, is only just there,
A smile, a grin, can easily begin,
To charm a Gran, her No.1 fan,
We laugh a lot, but don't care a jot,
For we have fun, and when we are done,
Onto the sofa she flops, and then drops
Off to sleep, and I very quietly peep,
And observe her face, so full of grace,
In gentle rest. I am so blessed,
She warms my soul, she makes me whole.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Storm
Blue hills, along the horizon hugging,
Like a mountain range in mist,
Lightning flashing, thunder crashing,
Part of God's almighty fist.
Clouds descending, bowing deeper,
Within their centre, shadows form,
And, as if this world's a sleeper,
It lays waiting for the storm.
After the onslaught of the raindrops,
Silence all around is heard,
Then within this peaceful stillness,
Awakes the sweet notes of a bird.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Memory Lane
Do you ever hear a haunting refrain,
Which takes you back to that moment again,
When memories flow and scenes are set,
And you, once more, relive the time you met.
How perfect, were those days back then,
Those days of romance, and the instant, when
Love hit you with a painful jolt,
And exquisite pain, you didn't want to halt,
And playing along was a haunting refrain,
So let it now take you, down memory lane.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Softly Kissed
A sultry evening, sunshine stays.
Rain clouds hover between its rays.
Chilly breeze provokingly plays,
lifting branches. Foliage sways.
Drizzle descends, a gentle mist.
Plants and flowers are softly kissed.
A watering doth thus persist,
in garden, meadow and forest.
Light showers brush away the dust,
which settles with each swirling gust.
Moisture seeping into earth’s crust.
All elements have got it sussed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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