A Dusting Of Magic
I`ll write a little lullaby
And pop it on my shelf
If I can find the words
To compose it all myself.
I`ll sprinkle it with magic dust
Let it settle for a while
When its work is done
It will guarantee a smile.
Then when anyone is lonely,
Upset or feeling blue
I will float it on a moonbeam
To find its way to you.
If you softly read it
Magic into you will seep
Your eyes will gently close
And you`ll drift off to sleep.
poem by Heather P Wilson
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My Destiny
I bent the bone of destiny
Before it travelled far,
I rearranged the angle
So the door was left ajar,
I walked to a brand new future
Leaving worn out ambitions
To float into the air,
Old challenges have vanished
Without a trace of being there,
I`ve set a new standard
Achievable to me
That will enhance my life forever
Without charging me a fee,
I`ll move within my comfort zone
Contented every day,
Hoping my destiny will find me
Somewhere on the way.
poem by Heather P Wilson
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Glance Carefully Young Lovers.
Glance carefully young lovers
'Romance' is in the air,
Bestowing love on many
(It has an abundance left to spare) .
Beware of imitations
'Infatuation' is also flying through,
Be on your guard, in case
It has a target set on you.
Young hearts may take a little bump
But they won`t break in two,
Sometimes a tiny learning curve
Will help them find a love that`s true.
If Cupid`s not too busy
He`ll guide all lovers on their way,
[...] Read more
poem by Heather P Wilson
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Oh, Dreamer.
Oh, dreamer,
Dream of paradise
Away from pain and care,
Where people thrive and prosper
Without a ruffle of their hair.
Oh, dreamer,
Dream of happiness
For all who live upon our land
As they mingle with each other
While they give a helping hand.
Oh, dreamer,
Dream of love
The starting point of all,
In the many forms it appears
So mankind can all walk tall.
Oh, dreamer,
Dream of a miracle
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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Don`t Break My Heart
Don`t break my heart,
I`m warning you,
You may be rough,
Quite tough and mean,
I`ve noticed very often
You`re not even very clean.
You never ever seem
To understand
My point of view,
Your world seems to revolve
Around one thing
And 'Yes' that`s you.
You run the streets
In the dark of night
I can hear your noise,
A neighbour has complained
You upset her little boys,
I need you to love me
Not roaming about
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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No Returning Gnome.
Our garden gnome has vanished
He sat by the pond alone,
As a present he was given
(Or I should say 'adopted')
From another home,
We hated him on sight
But smiled gratefully
With thankful acceptance
For the monster that was he.
We are sure he sensed our attitude
Every time that we past by,
It once got to the stage
We were convinced a tear came to his eye.
In his gaudy gown he sat with his fishing rod
Even the other gnomes left him on his tod,
Our cat would screech at him
And then continue hissing
But that gnome took no notice
He just went on fishing.
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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Danger Of Mountain Fog
One little lad walking his dog
High on a mountain
No thought of the fog,
He had walked that way often before
The only problem till now
His feet had been sore.
In the fog he was scared, unable to see
With no idea where he might be,
He had been taught that danger was lurking around
If he fell in a crevice he might never be found.
His little dog so very proud
Was wagging his tail
And barking out loud,
Nudging his young master along
The worried boy put not one foot wrong.
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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Magic of Folklore
The folklore of the countryside
Accepts the toadstool ring
In the belief that all lost fairies
Congregate there to dance and sing.
They sing a lullaby to the young
Then hum to the old and weak
But it is their strong tradition
That lost faires never speak.
They all spread kindness
By a flutter of their wings
As they catch cobwebs in the dew
To form many fairy swings.
Gossamer is gathered
To make cradles for the young
Then they play around the toadstool ring
As flower bells are rung.
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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A Fairy Fantasy
Soft petals glide across my pool
Beside the waterfall,
Where faires dance all through the night
So small they`re barely seen at all.
The dappling water tells me
Their fluffy wings have just passed by,
As their misty breath
Rises floating to the sky.
The whisper of fairy voices
Flutter on the breeze,
Listening very carefully
I often hear a sneeze.
I don`t think they leave my garden
As no footprints or feathers have I seen,
Or any other trace or clue
To tell me where they`ve been.
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poem by Heather P Wilson
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