The First Step

Oh, take that step, that step of love,
where we can share eternal love.
Where we can reach a distant star
that once was thought so very far.

I’ll take you to the land of dreams,
to paradise with its crystal streams,
to the greenest grass and bluest skies,
to where one lives and never dies.

I’ll share with you my blackest soul
which surpasses the heavenly goal.
I’ll teach you the real, right from wrong,
and serenade you with an angel’s song.

I’ll introduce you to my many friends
who once believed their life would end.
Just take the first step and walk with me
and together we’ll share an eternity.

poem by Orlando Belo
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The Three a.m. Burst

I was woken in the early hours of this morning
by an overwhelming mental burst.
My mind bombarded me with random words
and compelled me to write poetic verse.

Words were branded upon my thoughts,
like initials on the hide of a steer.
But then strings of words in a jumbled mess
in different colours began to appear.

Like calculated numbers, words fell into place
adding their value to the score.
Another sentence brought another verse,
which begged for even more.

By breakfast time the burst was over,
the words had been laid to rest.
Several pieces of paper had been filled,
and my mind had been freed from stress.

poem by Orlando Belo
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Woken From My Sleep

I awoke in the early hours,
between one and half past four.
My poet head was back again,
and I wrote like never before.

Page after page was covered,
paper was strewn everywhere.
Even though I felt exhausted
my mind didn't seem to care.

I thought my head had finished
and so returned to my bed,
but when I touched the pillow
sentences again filled my head.

I went back into the spare room
and penned as fast as I could.
My bed pulled after each poem
so I returned like all poets should.

[...] Read more

poem by Orlando Belo
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The Christmas Message

The Christmas Message

As he lay on his bed unable to sleep
he saw the brightest star in the sky.
It was the brightest he had ever seen
and he couldn’t understand why.

He watched the star by night and day,
its intensity never waned.
A golden light came down from heaven
carrying an angel who explained.

The messenger spoke of the Son of God
and how he was soon to be born.
He would bring love, peace, and goodwill,
and inspire the lost and forlorn.

The child’s name will be Jesus Christ,
man’s saviour from the highest heaven,
and he will live upon the Earth as a man

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poem by Orlando Belo
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Just Look At You Now

You were a flower in a bubble
floating about the place.
You were a flower in a bubble
with the sweetest, shyest face.

You were always pretty and smiling,
and just bounced off ugly things,
but one fine day your bubble burst
and you developed wings.

You became ready for any occasion,
you dressed either up or down.
Your make up's to shock or horrify,
or to impress in Ya Ya town.

You now design your own wardrobe
and make the items you wear.
Bangles and beads you throw together,
from places you don't declare.

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poem by Orlando Belo
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December Morning

The sun came up above the skeletal dark grey trees this morning
whilst the grey mist clung fiercely to the ground,
its rays tried to encompass the heavy coatings of dew,
which the dark hours had purposely left behind.

There was no wind to disturb the stillness and silence,
but then a crow quietly descended onto the grass.
It hopped about pecking between the rich green blades,
drinking the dew as it searched for its breakfast.

A mongrel dog ran at great speed towards the crow,
which took off effortlessly into the sky.
It cawed and crowed to complain in the way crows’ do,
whilst the dog sat and wondered why.

poem by Orlando Belo
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The Clock

Recently you spoke about the condition
of the clock you’ve had for many years.
You said it wasn’t functioning properly
because of it’s age and worn out gears.

I understand you tried to get it mended,
but it was way beyond repair.
And now you miss its ticking,
and the time it used to bear.

I know that it’s of sentimental value,
and nothing could ever take its place,
but I’ve one that’s been unused for years,
and it comes with a smiling face.

When you’re ready for a replacement,
and you can face it without distress,
I’ll pop the smiling clock around to you,
it’ll bring good time and happiness.

poem by Orlando Belo
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What We Have

A body, a brain, a mind,
and the gift of choice.
All the human senses,
a language, a voice.

A conscience to guide us
in deciding right or wrong.
Feelings to stir emotions,
be them short or long.

A soul to comfort your body,
a spirit to inspire and create,
which also gives you hope
when your life is in a state.

Doors to open
when opportunity knocks.
Someone who can listen
when marooned upon life's rocks.

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poem by Orlando Belo
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My Love (2)

I love to undress it,
but sometimes I can't wait,
and have it from the oven,
on a steaming hot plate.

It likes to be soaked
with butter, beans, or peas.
Oh, the scrumptious potato,
it does like to please.

But it also plays it cool
in front of the salad.
It knows how I like it
when she teases my palate.

But to be honest I prefer it
when it's wallowing in gravy,
Mmm, those tasty hot potatoes
will drive anyone crazy.

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poem by Orlando Belo
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The Chair

Grandma’s chair is rockin’, but she ain’t sittin’ there,
so who’s that sittin’ in grandma’s favourite chair?
And whose is that shadow standing by the wall?
Could it be our grandma..? ‘No, not at all.’

I’ve no idea whose shadow that could be,
it’s certainly not mine and you’re behind me.
Who is that sittin’ where grandma sat each night?
and could it be the shadow is a trick of the light?

Could it be our granddad standing by the wall?
‘No, it’s not granddad, he wasn’t that tall.
The chair’s still rockin’, but the shadow has gone.
The chair has stopped; they’ve both moved on.’

poem by Orlando Belo
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