Millie the chisseller
Millie the chisseler lived upon the Michigan plains Her ancestors were cherokee and she chisseled in the sun n rain she chisseled in the morning light and when the day was through her stories they were written there upon that totem poel
They told of wars and victories of redskins loss and gain the annals of time etched out in wood n read again n again her chisseling was a monument to peace across the land where white men took their freedom then n they were plantations planned
The waggon trains they rumbled and the cavalry they charged the bison ran the prairies then when custer was in charge the hills they told the stories and her etchings told the tales when histories were chisseled out in carvings neat n large
Now theres just memories but the totem poles still stands like monuments of justice carved by Millies hands yet no one understands them or reads the carvings true like visions of the future and the way to lose the blues
All across the prairies and down the rio grande where settlers told their stories with the pen hot in their hands yet the poor old indians are left there with sadness in their eyes like the war drums that lay beaten and the pipe of peace it sighs.
Whispers
Whispering man in the shadows of dreams where the seasons caress you and the willow trees beams offer their branches and leaves that unfold whilst their treasures of blossoms are a treat to behold where forest walks take you and offer a prayer amongst bluebells that sway in the breezes right there where tall trees did hide the squirrels and the nests of birdsong each morning to say man your so blessed the cries of the children happy at play from the sounds in the distant of the guns and the bays where wise men they counsel and fools go to war to risk hope and joy to foolish amour where the sun spreads its glory and the spring offers joy whilst the boys in the chapels sing their hymns to employ with their shadows well hiden the master s of war cry freedom is yours for the rich and the poor
just wars and courage
Youl read their epitaphs on the stones of St Clements church as you cry inside the chapel or stand inside the porch youl read the names and numbers n dates of the lads who went to war the Stanleys and the Cruthchers the Warrens and the Smalls the Newtown lads who left this scene and went to fight at war they died there in the trenches and the battles of the souere they fought with guns and bayonets with with courage in their eyes but they were led by fools and donkeys with stardust in their lies the rumble of the cannons and the call to arms was true with men of every nation they travelled out via poole they crossed the sea to France that day and just like Waterloo they suffered at the hands of foes who looked just like me and you
Lost lady
Enchantment conviction like a bird on the wing she stumbled through life like a child on a whim her heart it lay broken and her dreams unfulfilled she crossed her new pathways and yet her voice was unheard her lovers and sweethearts were cast in the breeze she lost one each time she whispered or sneezed her life it was reckless though nowt did she gain but humble new sorrows and love with its pain the wind blew its message and the rain it did fall though her garden was planted amongst weeds and trees tall her blossoms were rich there and her love it was new though her romance was illusions and her heartaches a few he kissed her in summer when the fruits it was rich where the grass it was green and the views were so pitch there were kisses she offered and his lips offered trust but then she succumbed to life's wanton lusts oh the birds sung their songs there in her world so remote whilst she followed her instincts and took to the boat she sailed on the tide where the waves beat the sounds of lost lovers passions and memories drowned.
Dorset Gypsies
The Gypsies gathered on the downs from hill of lodge to olde Poole town where blackbird's sang and rabbits ran amongst the gorse the fuzz and sun the parish canford estates where lord and lady Guests held fetes where Churchill came to stay and play across the chines and bourne of seas they gathered in their homes of want with vardos high and benders squauint
Where urchin children came to play and chavvies raced across the hay where farmers toiled the land and rich were homes of state amongst the ditch the traveling throng they rode the lanes from Upton oaks to lady Wimbornes frames where St Andrews church did greet the new and old uns died amongst the dew the lanes and turbary commons views with sea-view haunts right down to Wool
Where Hardy strolled and Barnes did quote and Augustus John painted boats where Turner etched and set the scenes across to Corfe where poets dreamed where Egdon heath was home to birch and zunners played outside St Mary's church the Traveler's and Gypsies spread their homes across the gorse and heathered zones
From Canford lanes and Kinson Mead's they fed their family's amongst the weeds then they were housed the gorja way on estates of brick Trinidad and West howe Mead's where thousands were housed upon the greens of common lands not before seen the estates of Rossmore, Turlin, Trinadad.Alderney,West Howe were homes to Travelers down to bourne sea
So when they say no Gypsies here we don't want their kind just cock your ear cause Gypsy traveler's not dissapeared live amongst the crowds that populate our community no fear the grass it grows course upon the downs where Gypsy life was spread around.
KISSES IN THE SHADOWS
Kisses in the shadows memories long and gone moments they'll remember when their song has sung footsteps in the darkens where no man has tred candles flames a flickering on his steps to bed long forsaken memories stranded in the past frozen speeches los and found floating in the cast kisses in the moonlight underneath the stars just one step to madness Jupiter and mars holding hands and whispers looks that say i do passages of time when boats sailed out from Poole crafted words that hit you when you read the lines like psalms and aspiration's gathered in lost time walks beneath the shadows running on the shore splash of waves to greet one who could ask for more the sun comes out to greet you its warmth caress your soul lost i paradise together love oh how it shows steps out there together in the world of shame where traffic lights are changing ever bright and rains water pools of blessings like puddles in the park kisses in the shadows and cuddles in the dark friends and old acquaintances like folks out of he past running through the meadows o'er the leaves and grass the rainbow shows its color's and the birds they soar and screech whilst children dance and play each day hastened by life's breeze
DUSTY OLDE FAIRGROUNDS
Saddle sore and weary the showman rides the plaines where travellers told their stories and hold on tight the reins the clowns of life they gathered in the big tops and the fairs with dancing ladies melodies and the bandmasters refrains the sabre toothed old tigers and the snake charmers schools where tommy said his prayers at night and gorjas went to school oh the packs of dogs were yapping there and the sandman came to call where the music thrilled the children and the audience called for more the magic shows and tricksters were wanton to the cause where the streets were lined with people and the tents were wide and tall the trucks were ever rolling with caravans to ride with fancy writing on the wall and happy Gypsy brides you awoke their in the morning and worked to plan the day with the dusty fairgrounds calling you from many miles away.
THE GOOD TIMES
I remember the good times when we sat beneath the bough with our voices full of merry and our hearts so proud and swell how we sang those Gypsy songs there and tales were told a few of the days out on the roads and the wise man sung the blues the hills were full of hope then and the trails were winding tracks through the heather and the gorse lands across lodge hills and back where the lady had her mansion and the parish church bells did chime with its bells of merry ringing and its congregations large and so fine oh the gaffers they were good then and respected trades for sure there were springs across the meadows and hikes down to the shores where the goldfinch sung in daylight and the blackberrys grew rich across the Turbary commons through sandy lanes and ditch oh the farmers blesed the land then and the travellers were so proud of their skills and trades they offered amongst the deer and grouse the rabbits they were plentifull and the foxes ran the lanes where the vardos rolled there daily love to go back again
Down Turbary Way
Their a gathering on the heath like days of old and Gypsy speech Theres old Harry Johnson and young Alfie White chewing the baccy n smoking their pipes theres vardos and benders tents on the downs and turbary lanes where old farmer gaffer walked in the rain the Traveller stories were told round the yog just moments away from the reeds in the bog the chavvies they ran barefoot through the briar where the smoke drifted sykwards round old prams n tyres the horses were shifting and the carts they were spruce with gay pained designs and groovy old roofs the dogs they did bark and the chaffinch did sing on the last day of march and the first buds of spring the furze it was rich and the birch it was free where the travelling folki sat and told me oh the crutchers and stanleys played at poole fair whrn i was a kid n saw freddie mills there the accordion played by clapcott and crew whilst the mothers they sewed and the flowers they blew the floral wreaths gathered and the old uns did chat about the old days and new times this n that the pot boiled on fire and the sparks they did fly from the bark and the twigs and the coney cracked highs The Coopers and pidgeleys and dibben brigades all gathered n chatted down turbary lanes Just a blink of the eye n im back with them then
Perfumed gardens
In the perfumed garden underneath the boughs her lips they promised heaven his words they told her lies the birds they sang sweet melodies and the crickets sang their tune inside the perfumed garden underneath the moon lovers in the springtime and wise ones when their old their world was but a whisper in days when life was cold the world it offered beauty and promises to gain one hand on the rudder the other dealt out pain the master gave them glories but they chose rhapsodies one boat on the safe tide the other lost at sea.
Sounds
I hear the crack of the whip n the thunder flashed the sounds of the cannons and dreams that will last i hear the whispers of dreamers and the sighs of a friend some of these things we can never comprehend i hear the visions of prophets stored in the deep the minds of the saved lost in their sleep i count all their blessings then offer a prayer to the good and the true then i climb up the stairs all the candles are lit there all the burdens are lost like the wings of an angel nailed to the cross where the lights meet the world through half closed eyes i preach to the lost with stars in their eyes the preachers and poets have left the great cause whilst the virgins lay sleeping and the soldiers to war the captives are plenty but the thruth it abides in the souls of the prophets and the wisdoms of wise.
Freedom chants
When morning broke in the land of the free the hands of the clock chimed for liberty the anarchic fools studied the law then resolved their complex science in a rhyme the padre quoted the bibles prayers whilst foolish virgins climbed the stairs the jackals barked at the break of the day whilst all Gods children looked for a place to play the lost soldiers wandered o'er barren lands where oil rich sultans set their plans the square and compass set the rules for wayward girls and forgetful fools the band did play its final march as politician's played their games in the dark the wars were over they said twas true as they stored more weapons in the minds of fools the quarrelsome doctors branded anew their potent drugs to solve the blues whilst a lonesome crooner sang his song the pretty dancing girls paraded with nothing on the curtain fell and the act was through as mankind threw out the golden rule along with babies yet to die the clown he smiled and winked an eye all across the world of spin the actors bowed and the set begins the speech that the prophet read out loud was drowned in tears and widows cries.
Genevieve
Do not weep for me fair maiden sweet Genevieve of the night when the hour cometh remember me keep me in your sight for when tomorrows over and the melodies has lost its tune remember me in your heartaches crave for that moment in the after gloom no wanderlust can quieten you no sounds of Ecstasy acclaim only the sound of footsteps leaving like thunder in the pouring rain# ofttimes may you wonder in fortitude and pain none can quench your hunger only sadness in the lovers name the forest whisper sweet winds like the petals falling from the boughs only wisdom lives in solitude only love knows the reason how fast track back to pleasures stolen branded visions left behind then transformed into your heart and mine there awaken to the beats of time sweet Genevieve.
CHRIST MASS AROUND THE CAMPFIRE
Its christmas around our campfire wind is cold and mean rabbits stew and dumplings cabbages and beans talk is long and cheery old uns tell a few of days of long ago when the elders blessed the crew the songs we sang were awesome with words to set one free of how beautifull the country where the travellers were free dogs side up to the yog and whimper in the dark sparks a flying gladly to lighten up your heart smells of cooking please one and chavvys run so free with hopes and chrismas wishes granted neath the trees vardos rich in comforts lamps all lit and trim with candles burning brightly smiles on every face twas the time of Jesus birth when travellers rejoice.
Wisdom Tales
They shared their wisdom around the campfires with the stories that they told some were wise and thoughtful others wise and old the grandfathers of time whispered stories of the past but the hands of time were ticking and they knew it wouldn't last
Oh the redskins and the nomads like the traveler's tales of gain when the yog was hot and fiery and the wind was in your veins when the spirit in you lifted and your soul was sure to soar with one eye on the wise one and the other born to score
Oh the trails were long and winding where the tracks were set in sand like the cartwheels that kept turning and the dreams of every man how the elders loved the country with its nature and its plains when men were free to listen and the coyotes howled again
Those days they will remember like the tales that wise men spoke till the modern ways were on us and the media it spoke whilst the kids were still in wonder and the rabbits all ran free before their ways were sanctioned in the pages of our history's
The fingers pressed the buttons and the pictures were in store with news flashing there daily and the children loved the wars whilst the old uns still had memories and the wise man walked alone the micro chip society were set to fashions free on the highways of the broadband were blinded by the free in a world of spin and freedom they lost their liberties.
Living the dream
Some people go searching to find the right path somewheres on life's highway with hopes that will last across desert plains and sprays on the seas voyages on oceans ans sweet liberty's
some people ponder and ride on the waves others go riding across distant plains where buckboards and cartwheels turn every day where bedfellows ponder and small children pray out in the forests and into the realms of fantasy world and old lady's qualms
high up the hillsides where tall men explored across distant oceans and wanderers implored the wagon wheels turned there and the poets they dreamed whilst wanton redeemers so often schemed the hands of the clock turned and the chimes rang so free where the children of God wrote the new humanity
for ages they traveled through bleak barren lands where no man had walked and brothers held hands where bears walked the forests and wolves ran the plain whilst bison were running and the redskins remained
the dreamers of history they planted the seed where writers of eloquence had one believe the words of the prophets and pen of great men who roamed the world over through the realms of the pen.
Blueprint for survival
God sent me a blueprint for survival it was sent to you and me it was grounded in forgiveness hope and honesty it was channelled in our prayers each day and rounded in our speech its ways were older than the hills and what the teachers teached i still can see that blueprint it haunts me every day with all my waking breath and each minute work or play it was sold to trade a world of lies and branded on the tree its thruth will save us sinners all on the road from calvary
Thoughts and kind places
Shadows whispers and thoughts in the night soft words thought and not spoken and things to delight carousel moonbeams and wishes to bless forgotten memories we love to caress faded old manuscripts in dusty old tomes forgotten pictures in shadowy rooms kisses that stay on your breath every day words that are spoken each time you pray amidst sweet thoughts that drift in and wont go away these are the special things that haunt us each day amongst all the trials that we meet here amidst work and play fast speeding chains of forgotten refrains words of sweet songs that remain amidst the sunshine and rain friends and relations who blessed our rich lives children voices that enriched us amidst worries and strife's people and places with scenes to delight all thoughts that remain with us well into the night.
Gypsy Boy wishes
I wish that i was a Gypsy boy with curls n flowers in my hair to run over the hills and valleys with ferrets in my bag i wish i could travel in that waggon and give the gypsy eye oh how i long for that feeling to sit beneath a starry sky i wish i was a travelling man with pockets full of dreams soft spoken words id tell to ya then ild wink that gypsy eye i would travel on that highway with my brothers clan wed work the fairgrounds isles again and id wear that ebony tan oh i wish i was a Gypsy boy again and go running by the stream where mary held my hand some and the furze and briars screamed i could tell your fortune with a smile and intuitive be i could whistle the birdsong in the morning light and in the evening serenade thee i wish i was a Gypsy boy again and wed go scrumping in the dark we coould have so many mushes friends and sit around the yogs bright sparks theres nowt like dreaming of such things and wishes are just whims for theyve sold the land for tarmaced sheets and babies in a pram.
Bramble downe
In bramble down meadows where the chaffinch doth sing where the reels of the song last from winter to spring where the cartwheels did roll and the Gypsy did stay across from the valley and the cold light of day far from the cities and their hard streets of shame where the vagrants still sleep down some quiet lane where the cards players haunts and the women to show their wanton legs freely and offers to Bow there on the highway on the great forest glades where their histories were made in the birch laden glades where the folki did gather round yog as was right were they sang all the old songs well into the night oh the jackals did bark and the old uns did sigh far from the winks of a young zunners eyes where the smoke drifted freely and the rabbits were chased on the banks of the river where love had its taste oh the bonny eyed gals there that sold of their wares on the streets of the cities and the aisles at the fair where darts they did soar and the goldfinch did swim in the bowls of the glass by the banks of their hymn oh the crossroads were clear then and the land it was free where the vardos did gather close by the sea where the sun it shone daily and the stars awed each night close by the streams where the boxers did fight the tales of the glory and the honor of fame were told around the campfires by old uns and Jane's the kings offered toast there and the whites offered trust where the gentry was kind to the poor gypsies plight
Moving on
Ive been sheltered and brainwashed by religion and fools had my fill of insights cool baccy and booze Ive sat around those campfires from brownsea to hope been brainwashed and promised love on the ropes now I'm moving on
Ive listened to critics and read all their palms Ive stroked all the good things and blessed all the psalms Ive slept on the prairies and the dust of the free where the visions still haunt one in the lost reality now I'm moving on
the var dos they frequented the canford domain down winding dirt tracks and village cute lanes where the chaffinch did sing and the young uns were blessed whilst the wise counsel kept Truth close to his chest now I'm moving on
the tracks were the deers ran and the poet gave chase to the words of the prophets and the lovers low nest where the boughs of the branches reached up to the sky and the gypsy he moved on whilst the old lady cried now I'm moving on
Ive watched all their war games and spun all the lies that blared from the screens where the goods were the spies the candle it flickered into the breeze and somebody cried whilst Truth it did sneeze now I'm moving on
the cock it did wake me from my slumber bed with a rock for my pillow and a pain in my head where the sun comes up daily over the hills where the fisherman cast lines and the poet sings reels now I'm moving on
the land it was rich in cartwheels and zones there were chivvies all playing on the banks of the Frome the accordion was playing into the night amongst the sprigs and the bracken and the ladies delights now I'm moving on
the old ways are gone now and the land is just dust where the factory stands with its glass doors and rust the highway's are fast tracks for deaths evil hand and we read it all daily in the Gypsy's wise hand now I'm moving on.
Heroism
John smith went to school and learned the lines the maths and calculations and how to read the signs he played the games on playgrounds and chased the girls a few he was like lots of other kids played by the golden rule he was trained in all the skills of life and read the poets too his diction was first class they said and he was head of school his masters all thought well of him and he played the teachers games he rose to be a man and loved the girls a few
he left school well acquainted with the histories and tools he rose to be a leader of his community and then he went to war to fight for democracy he enlisted in the British troops and fought in Afghanistan he was knighted for his valor and his ways with every man his rank was well respected and he rose to be a colonel and his life was on the rise he had seen the wars of consequence and the look in dead men's eyes
all the years they faded and his comrades they all died hit by a snooper rounds and the vision in their eyes he was wounded hurt and dam near died and sent home in the spring he was welcomed by his family and the bands did roll and sing when the rabbits ran upon the downs and the lonesome sparrow sings
his medals they all hung on walls and his credits were so cool he died in loneliness and pride the victor to the cause he left behind a battlefield for another young mans cause the flag it flew half mast there upon the village green whilst a thousand young men signed their names went to war to fight for king or queen heroism took their lives and democracy it screamed.
Minds escapes
Somewheres in the distance like the backwoods of my mind i sought the words to comfort you and lead you from the blind i stumbled through the midst of time and drew some comfort there where strangers stopped to speak your name and widows said a prayer
The sanity of words expressed were shallow in this realm where wise men quoted verse of rhymes and literature so blessed the common tones of men were lost and the willow bent its bough where leaves of pages roamed the hills and children sang their chimes the sacred verse was created there and mankind's terms of faith whilst foolish virgin girls consent and gave up of their time
The wanton lady shed her clothes and the lover took his chance where poets lost their virginity and slept upon the banks the crusades they were sanctioned there and the princess in the tower amongst the queens of ecstasy and the budding open flowers
The words of inspiration were crafted from the tree where eve and Adam sanctioned love and lost humanity the walks were long and winding there where the streams did bend and flow where loving couples slept at night and youth had far to go
The doctrines of the master crafts were etched in tears of woe whilst the traveler stopped to spend the night in dream's of woner shows the sad eyed lady sang her song to empty theater's there whilst the band played on the melodies if songs of long ago the cross it shed its secrets there and the warrior drew his bow whilst a thousand children sang a song to rend your spirits low
The waters of tranquility and the blood of battles lost were sold to foolish bankers there and the game of pitch n toss the strange colonial soldiers were buried on the plains where sat the foolish poet written verse of no mans gain
THE GYPSY IN MY SOUL
Its just the Gypsy in my soul where traveler's camp and spirits flow beside the rolling streams and leas nestled there within the trees the campfires sparks and gypsy tales the stories told and darkies smiles where music plays and drinks do flow in some quiet place il go
The bridled ponies standing by the shawls they wore and children's cries the warmth of friends and family beneath the willow spreading leas far from the city urban roads the wayside inns and transport loads the skills and crafts which still surprise the arts of Gypsy woman and Gypsy man
The thatch cottages and winding narrow lanes where hedge-grow banks still hide the trains where hills are high and green so free far from the city lights and vagrants pleas the winds blow cold across those hills where vardos roamed and birds did trill their songs of tune-full melodies
Close by the roaming country ditch the Gypsy songs and traveling tales the pleasant nights and summer smells where kids did play close by the brook where Mick and Sam game did partook the farmyard lanes were lovers strolled the rabbits ran from foxes bold
Where shots rang out upon the downs steeped in bracken fuzz and grassy mounds the cries of peace before the storm when little mushes were roadside born where daisy chains and conker games were lost to history and Gentry's gains.
Hope in the night
Walking with their eyes shut they wont face reality ive a bible in my pocket drank this cup of tea there's a wounded soldier following the last train straight to hell there's a promise and a rose entwined along the gypsy trail
The vagabonds and tailors have all sailed out to sea with the hopes tucked in their pockets all preaching love and liberty there's a fortune telling lady with that look within her eyes there's a shadow on the sidewalk for terrorists and spies
Don't lose your understandings all set in mystic chimes upon the highway of forgiveness amongst melody and rhyme there's a falling angel guiding you and a secret rendezvous there's hope in grace and solitude and a christian on the loose
All along the sidewalk the clowns and jesters danced with a honeymoon quartet and a ship that sailed to France the cards are in the table and a feast set for a queen amongst the laws and doctrines where the losers always win
So don't count all your blessing fore the shooting stars in sight there's a glory train a coming and will by here by tonight there's a singer writing parables and a poet dreaming dreams amongst the leaves of insanity where the children play their scenes
So don't ask me no more questions the epitaphs are laid within the stone walled chapels amongst the soldiers graves where the clock it chimes the hour where the sun it greets the day amongst the world of stupid fools whilst politician's play
Proud to be a Gypsy
She was proud to be a Gypsy a traveller on the road with her tales of Gypsy life and her stories that she told she was proud to be of a family that cherished every day who rode upon gods highway and cast her cares away
The folki they all gathered to eat upon the green where the oak dale trees were stout and the roads were in between the wheel it told it story as they shared a tale or two as they chatted there so freely oh what a real right do
John he told me stories of Gypsies long ago how they traveled on the road summers rain and winters snow oh the highways they were wide then with their twisting lanes a few when the dew was on the ground and the road was their true school oh Rosie she had drunk a few and Jeff was full of wit their were photographs of days gone by and ponies bridle bits
The Gypsy pies were plentiful and the table spread so free with bouquets of lovely flowers all for Joyce to see the tales were told so freely and families gathered true with Jeff's and Crutchers gathering up the road from Poole
The photos they were taken and the snaps were of good taste all the food was so well eaten very little waste oh the tales were told and shared reminiscence's so free of Kimmeridge road and Alderney just a few miles from the sea
Oh the party was for traveler's and gypsy folki free one hand on the reins my lad and the other on the spree she was proud to be a Gypsy a travelers of the road with her dress so red and special and her heart was rich not cold
The families all gathered and shared their tales of old one man told of funny days others winters oh so cold there were hugs and smiles a plenty with kiddies on the floor not a word was spoken out of place no copper at the door the folks did share their joyfulness and the hours ticked away with stories of lost cousins and nights out in the hay
Two sides of every story
There's two sides of every story i heard a wise man say its written in the stars above and in the children's play there's two sides to every story with scenes to set you free the wandering poets transcripts and the sailors out at sea
Many fools have gathered in every village green in churchyards and in towers in parliaments own beams many words are spoken in temper and in trust many wise men counseled and many spin their luck
Around the world and over the zealots ran their course the armies lost in battle the writers lost for words the gypsies farms own story was settled with a toss one hand on the gentry and the other mankind's loss
Oh the spinning wheels they offer little sanctuary with the lords and ladies offerings and the politician's boss the crumbs are on the table and the wind is blowing free where the willow spreads its branches in a pasture by the lea
There's two sides to every story and the truth will come to pass whilst the Truth lays in the gutters and the wise men never ask the wars and tribulations are snares to set men free within the fields of battle with its free democracy
The candle wick is shivering and the flames is set to spring where the Chinese Mandarin is stalking and the fools will let him in the oil it is sanctioned and the line is set to spring where the sun sets in the morning and the little bird doth sing.
The square and compass
On top of the purbecks where the stone was cold and mean the travelers and hikers walked the paths of Dorset scenes where yeomen once were local and the landed Gentry dwelled where sheep and hills were rich in rhyme and the poets write so well
In the olde stoned pub relic where fire sparked so free where hearth is home to wanderes and folks who are free like me where Augustus john the artist pics were hung upon the wall next to the old Stone museum where dinosaurs once roared
The masons etched their histories and the hills were rich in dew where the wind blew cold on winter days deep within the hues the dogs they sat down close to the fire and the drinkers toasted zen whilst olden Dorset folki breathed life into its flames
The sign it swung outside the pub where chickens all ran free where stone tables laid their stories yet to see the atmosphere was rich in trust and the poet viewed the scenes upon the purbeck hillsides there so close to Halloween
The square and compass told its tales upon the hilly downs where lovers met and couples kissed their steps left far behind the cockerel crowed and gave chase to the farmers wench upon the purbeck hillside where hardy paid his rent.
Worth Matravers breathed its life into the Dorset views So far off the beaten track and many roads from Poole
THE CROOKED BOOKSTORE
In the night streets of the city where the traffic flows so free where the sidewalks and the alleys offer refuge to the free where the rats hide in the gutter bins and the poor tramps seek sanctuary where the church bells chime their melodies and the artist paints the scene on the outskirts of the city so close to Halloween
In a quiet faded bookstore where the neon lights do flash the poets and the dreamers ask question's not surpassed in the shelter of the cafe where coffee seeds are blessed where the books are flowing on the shelves and amidst the scent of violets
The painters and the writers, gather there to pen their ideals of the moment amidst their lofty eloquence where the sad eyed poets gather and the waiter begs a tune whilst the piano player hits the notes and the singer tries to croon
The Gypsies dance to castanets and the haunting music plays whilst the audience applause's the last nights serenades the sidewalks are for dreamers and the pen is set to soar one hand on the inspiration the eyes upon the door
The streets are full of whispers and the business mans foolish gains far from the prayers of broken hearts where sanity remains the words they flow in candle lights and the lamps are full and wick whilst the crooked bookstore offers hope to every tom and dick.
Back to west howe
I journeyed back to West Howe many years ago When winter time was hard with cold wind freezing snows I gathered all my memories and stored them in a trunk Composed a poetry book of rhymes to tell one of those times The ladies rode their bikes to work through Poole lanes dips n dales There were gypsies on the heath lands there and heather for your luck The co op grounds were rich in grass and the trees were young and prime
The Canford warbler sang his song and the adders were all fine The coppace was rich in green and the dew was on the ground The fairs were rich in didykye and the big show was in town Long before the houses built for gypsy family Long before the common land was sold for ladies sprees
The goldfinch chirped on fuzz bush thick and the broom was rich with flower Arnold's grazed their ponies there amongst the gorse and close by the river stour The smugglers arms was tall and proud and the gaffers took their pride In Workman's laboring skills and the young men took their brides The land was rich in gravel,clay and sand was free There were many church bells ringing proud on Sundays by the lea
The village children danced their reels and the schoolmaster was strict They say that Mr George Spicer saved the trees and Sankey Ward took the bricks There were many folki around this day can all recall those days with pride When turbary and Kinson were rich in trees and wide Where rabbits ran upon the copse and the zunners went to play At scrumping fruit from Alderney and rabbiting with ferrets along the way The knuckle boxers showed their skills like freedie mills toshay
Where Bear Cross stood with brotherhood of guests and family may The crutchers and the dibbens with Sherwood's and the Whites Played darts and sported game whilst Jeff's gave chase along the race With names handed down with pride of Gypsy clan and tattoed man with Giorgio's in disguise The dolphin and Pelhams house were then as to today When St Andrew stood so prime and good to while the days away
The stocks and green now paint the scene where folly true was scorned Whilst village school took kids from Poole and slates were hard and worn The twists and turns of kids now born will tell a tale or two But none can trace the master race of when West Howe was born for true The pavilions gone and bowls along and there's only oakmeads school Where children met with deep regrets and played by the golden rule.
The old clay cutters
There were gangs of clay cutters on Mitchell's site cutting clay by day and night the work was tiresome and the hours long but they we're mean and they were strong
On Alder hills they dug the quarry their kids to feed and waif's theyd married the Talbot land was rich in clay with a good days work for a poor mans pay
The brickyards stretched across the land from Wareham road to turbarys sands Old Meg the gypsy lived in her cottage on the heath where tinkers blessed the turves's so deep
To cut their turves's was to survive in winter time when love was wild the warblers sang their songs for free whilst the adders and lizards squirmed beneath birch trees
The common land was fit to roam with gypsy vendors with high curved domes the sacks were plentiful on the ground where fir cones dropped and beggars scrounged
The Talbot sisters heard their pleas the working men and poor widows pleas they built a village to be proud like winton soil the land was loud
The Whites and Rogers created bricks with chimneys tall and windows thick the common man used land so free to build their homes in Alderney.
The writings on the wall
I'm preparing a poem to write on the wall where small children sleep and poverty calls I'm writing a sonnet of love on the vine amongst all the downtrodden peoples of mine
I'm composing a melody of diction and rhyme where turner once painted and Dylan did twine I'm sketching a journey and telling a tale amongst heather and bracken where roses doth dwell
I'm twisting those lyrics of zealots pen where the Gypsy old bands are settled in zen I'm crafting a story for all to just see the wonders of life granted to thee
I'm writing such prose to make the poor men so free in the wilderness alleys amidst the doctrines neath leas I'm casting a spell and I'm wishing a wish to grant love to wise men and for sailors to fish
I'm putting the dots where each stories ends I'm writing the lines twixt real and pretend I'm writing a poem to flow on the wall where wars have been fought for nowt but a call I'm correcting the wrongs that man set to score when he gave up his freedom to go off to war.
Turn Turn Turn
The vardo wheels keep turning on the highways of regrets where Gypsy memories returning to sale flower's on the set where castanets are playing and the honky tonk parades within the heather-ed commons where rabbits traps were set
The story tellers gathered whilst the wheels were still in spin far off from the distant hills where rhapsodies begin the wars took all our young men all lost to the great cause whilst the landed gentry aristocrats counted all the poor
The stories that we were told then where shadowed with their lies like the king of Germany's great fall and the common Gypsy spies the grassroots undertaker sold their profits for to spree whilst hungry urchin children had nowt left for their teas
The fires that were lit there offered sanctuary and good ideals whilst we sheltered in the birch and briers and lived life misunderstood the skills of all our children were scattered to the wind whilst the sites were sold for profit then and some toffs chosen whim
All the strangers offered monies and homes of brick to tread whilst country daughters offered gifts of love and recompense the young men gave them kisses sweet and held them in their arms whilst their mothers counted widows left amongst their gypsy charms
The falling soldiers lost to war were counted on the breeze where Churchill's foolish armies were gathered in the leas a leader of the armies was calling for young men as they signed their lives for God and country and poets penned in zen
The Churches offered sanctuary and the preachers spread the word one hand on the book of life the other on the sword the gypsy camps lay scattered and the hills were rich in blooms where lovers strolled amongst the thorns on a springtime afternoon.
Dreams in the city
The painters in the alley where the minstrel strums a tune amidst the sounds of traffic on a bust afternoon the stalls are oh so busy in the market place of tears where humanity is hidden in yesterday's vamoose
Oh the strands of sacred passions were sketched there in the night where the strangers of the city hideout within the lights all the pastels of perfection were sliced upon the frame whilst the naked Madonna winks at him while poets sing refrains
The falling angels rhapsodies are blessed with Summer sun amongst the heathen children where rats are yet to run whilst silly girls call out to them favor's to bestow the lonesome traveler's cries out lets have another show
All along the pathways where soldiers went to war the mothers kissed their letters in prayers up to st Paul the crystal chandeliers were sold to beggars on the loose like lonely virgin standing there parading afore the wolves
Amidst the calls of hawkers and sales of sanity the poet sells his work of art then goes off for his tea whilst lovers danced before the sun their dreams are set in stone yet the words of the anthems played are foolish and so old
All along the street's of tears where pity calls its tune the handsome sailor begs to her and kisses her lucky tooth the pigeons call for favors and the sailor drinks his fill upon the streets of city life where all dreams are fulfilled
The damp depressing moments in rain soaked clothes are sour whilst drunken maid desert their jobs and look to higher powers the song smiths write their lyrics underneath the boughs whilst seagulls prey upon the food that foolish kids devoured
Tyne streets are paved with consequence and Little left to fame whilst poverty is crushed in tears and love and lust are one and the same the drunken politician swears by all the stars above whilst he stores his wealth in bitter dreams and shares of abandoned love.
This is not the way to mend a broken heart
Tears on her pillow from the dreams she lost hurts in the shadows where the sunshine lost its cross memories befell her like the heartaches she once knew angels in heaven bless the world she knew
Pathways she followed and turning that she took one way to follow where swallows never flew some lovers tiffles some friends not gained one morning sunshine next day it rained
The roads that she took once was hard on the task a victim of justice poor circumstance lovers who told her lies and then took her heart left there broken down by the brook
Teachers and wise men counsel her there poets and dreamers lost at the fair roulette's still turning and the carousel hums flights of the darts where they beat ion the drum
Down through the ages lost in her prime schooldays deserted fallen through time pink boxes ribboned with candy dreams set tears on her pillow through years of regrets
This is not the way to mend a broken heart this is not the way to send your dreams to part this is not the way to shed a tear or two where the wise men count their blessings and the gypsy rides the blues.
Nobody told me
No one told me the truth of my rich Gypsy past it was hidden from me like the lies that were cast nobody told me of those gypsy eyes those travelling folki or the poor didykys
i grew on the heath where the rabbits ran free where the vardo tracks marked our true histories it was crafted in sonnets an set in the sands like the dreams in the night of the youngGgypsy man
Nobody told me the family lore the walks on the heath where the cannons once roared no one ere told me that truth's around each bend where the river did twist and the stories not end
I learned foolish chatter and true gorja ways like the banking of monies and the bullets that strayed i gathered the dust from the annals of time then i learned of our histories in the words of the vine
No one ere told me that love shines within where the heather grows rich and the stories do spin no one ere told me the fruit's of their wares were lost there in time like the rules neath the stairs
No one ere told me that granted and free the gypsy lore flourished down by the sea where the sand it was rich and the vardos were true where fortunes were told under the blue.
Brushing up
I must brush up on my culture and read some more Clare get my head full of Wordsworth and Tennyson's Fayre my Shakespeare is nonsense and my lines they all rhyme I must get some prose with a bottle of wine
I must brush up on my diction along with the prose get some tongue twisting imagery to go with my toast to the poets and writers who live by the pen where the words flow so freely and the clock does not rend
I must brush up on my intellect my reason and more then gather my thoughts that Ive thrown on the floor the words flow there freely and the stories are wit how come that the masses regards it as xxxx
One wise elder is better than a dozen roosters crowing
One wise elder is better than a dozen roosters crowing One new generation young and vibrant growing One new doctorate to declare in a world gone wrong without a care
One chapel settled in the valley where sheep doth sleep and only the wise owl dares to takes a peep Customs and visions are left to bestow on young minds and bodies yet set to grow The words of wise men cast to fools whilst the harmonica plays to the chosen few
One wise elder is better than a dozen roosters crowing with words of nonsense set in rhymes that flow the sad eyed lady smiles then waves goodbye to lonely hippies left there getting high
The shadows offer thoughts that wise men cast aside to foolish lovers kisses on the river side the chains of justice know no pride whilst vanity corrupts the visions of the happy bride.
The Carousel
The carousel of life goes around through village court hamlet and town the traveling poet travels on through words of pen and crooners song
The trips and trails of yesteryear's the voyages on the ships of fools and seers the words he crafted with the pen of lusty gals and common men
The walks upon the hills and downs the wisps of grass and meadow downs the swallows flights and chirps of sparrows the warrens where rabbits hide in fallows
The towns where history blends its Truth where fools and idiots run uncouth where drunken gals swear every night where young lads grow and gain in Sprite
The beggar's walks and rich mans gains the sidewalks and the country lanes the horses in the paddocks rare the wandering minstrels at the fair
The days of Shakespeare left ft behind where ragamuffins bed the times where coach and horses bless the scenes where witches dance on Halloween
The cock crows to awake the day the farmer works amongst the hay the town clock chimes the hours away the sun shines bright to bless the day
The children play and climb the trees where honeysuckles bless the breeze where boy kiss gal and hold her close where dreams are made and best man made a toast
Here all the trials and liberties are cast in stone to set Truth free upon the wings of sanity the hours they fly and yet regain the youth of life revolves again
all recounted by the poets pen.
She touched My heart
You touched my heart made dreams come true there in the night out of the blue
When shadows fall when dreams are cast when starlight twinks into the night
You touched my heart then made me whole my life is rich you changed it so
When paths are crossed when dreams come true when love is blessed il think of you
The cross-ways offer sanctuary where strangers meet and set love free
Poets walk
Wise words are spoken in times of woe where strangers meet and themes do flow crafted in heaven and then set free the poet pens for you and me
Where humble truth's are set in stone where foolish dreams they come and go amidst the tears of vanity the cockerel crows and the words set free
Down stony lanes the tramp doth step with no regard for violets amidst the town where church bells chime they count their blessings on the vine
In times of sorrow and years of woe the anthems play and the children play whilst dreamers scheme and old men pray the wanderer returns to stay
Army days
A soldier in an army camp will take that order and fall in rank will take that line like soldiers do then march in line and play by the rules
I took my orders from afar there were men in battle dress and fine attire some wore khaki and some wore brass it was take the orders and kiss my arxx
The mess was decked in finery with carpets red and revelry there were balls held monthly with ladies dance fine officers talking and no romance
The halls and corridors were scrubbed so clean even brass fittings in the latrines the food was rich and on display with lots of richness to eat today
The waste was plentiful for none was saved into the bins went untouched grace the colonel sanctioned the nights and days whilst the band played glory on parade
The flags they flew and the dreams were cast another war this one wont last another night to spread the word soldiers live by the cannons and sword
The military played their game on tables decked with cheese and game the ladies danced and the captains swooned oh what a night beneath the moon.
War to end wars
It was the war to end all wars the diplomats declared the flags were blowing in the breeze plus all the prayers were said
They said that it was freedoms the price of true democracy with bullets by the millions then they went home for tea
The universal soldiers all lined up in rank with weapons of destruction and platoons led by tanks the captain called for leaders and the colonels hummed the tune
One was killed in action and millions killed too soon the bugle sounded retreat and the master rang the bell one went on to heaven millions rode through hell
Tomorrows hope
In a land with no borders where Truth and freedom hide there's world full of forgiveness just waiting for the tide
There's a hope behind each message and a love that's yet to be you may call me a dreamer but that's how i see reality
In a town without pity the lonesome sparrow flies with the arrow of forgiveness lost out on someones bribe
There's a hobo in the corner there's a searcher running free and far out in the distance hope for humanity
Oh the crumbs they were offered and their profits fed the few within the landed gentry who robbed humanity
There's a voice that is calling with a spirit full of pride theirs a willingness to change the world just stretch those hands out wide
Far out in the distance the drumbeats play for thee where the Truth of justice rides a horse all set for us to see
Oh the treasures that are offered are all just full of lies like the leaders who abandon dreams and walk the harvest brides
Soldiers of the cross
The cinder city beckons me with its alleys of regrets where bohemian ghosts surround my world with its hymns and pirouettes
The sad eyed wanderer he laughs whilst the lonesome poets pray amongst the streets of hollow words where little children play
All along the promenade the sailors count their tears there in the midst of happiness where wise men often dream the seductress maidens offer wares and the sailors cast an eye whilst silly hippies smoke their pipes and strangers all past bye
The world is full of hopes and dreams where wise men counsel fools there in the midst of sanity where young men are footloose
The alleys and the streets of tears offer little sustenance to the poor while the music man plays on his harp then the sorrows disappears
Along the cross where soldier die for wars that no one needs the politicians daughter smiles and honeys all plant seeds the gardens of remembrance parade their floral woes whilst little children sleep at night and foolish men propose.
Proud to be a Gypsy
She was proud to be a gypsy a traveller on the road with her tales of gypsy life and her stories that she told she was proud to be of a family that cherished every day who rode upon gods highway and cast her cares away
The folki they all gathered to eat upon the green where the oak dale trees were stout and the roads were in between the wheel it told it story as they shared a tale or two as they chatted there so freely oh what a real right do
John he told me stories of gypsies long ago how they traveled on the road summers rain and winters snow oh the highways they were wide then with their twisting lanes a few when the dew was on the ground and the road was their true school
Oh Rosie she had drunk a few and Jeff was full of wit their were photographs of days gone by and ponies bridle bits the gypsy pies were plentiful and the table spread so free with bouquets of lovely flowers all for Joyce to see
The tales were told so freely and families gathered true with Jeff's and Crutchers gathering up the road from Poole the photos they were taken and the snaps were of good taste all the food was so well eaten very little waste
Oh the tales were told and shared reminiscence's so free of kimmeridge road and alderney just a few miles from the sea oh the party was for Traveler's and gypsy folki free one hand on the reins my lad and the other on the spree
She was proud to be a Gypsy a Travellers of the road with her dress so red and special and her heart was rich not cold the families all gathered and shared their tales of old one man told of funny days others winters oh so cold
There were hugs and smiles a plenty with kiddies on the floor not a word was spoken out of place no copper at the door the folks did share their joyfulness and the hours ticked away with stories of lost cousins and nights out in the hay.
Some people
Some people say I'm a Gypsy and some folks do say I'm a clown some folks do drink on a sabbath and that's how it all got around my mother was born in the country and my father was born in the town my sister and brother were born on a whim and that's how it all got around
Some people say I'm a dreamer and some folks say I'm a seer some people live on their Wit's and their scheme's others say they are queer some folks pray on a Sunday and others dont pray at all some eat meat on a Monday and others don't eat eat meat at all
They say that love solves all problems and that it comes to those who wait some say theirs no heaven whilst others seek peter at the gate some say I'm a Ggypsy others say I'm a clown some folks like my poetry others just put me down
Some people thrive on troubles they go to war each day others are born a pacifist and choose the middle way some folks are born to be dreamers some folks born to be clowns some folks look to the future others drink on the town
My friends they were rounded and peaceful rode out on the lanes they gathered the berries from hedgerows and counted their blessings again some worked in the fairgrounds oh how they cherished the flights others worked on the card games and drunk whiskey and beer all night
They say that a travelling hippy was walking down that road where the lord was blessed and the sun caressed the words that the poet chimed some people write real good diction others cannot rhyme some children play in the woodlands each day others turn to crime
The moral of my story and the theme behind my verse is that were all one family wether good people bad or worse.
Pastures of promises
in pastures of promises where youth has its run where moonbeams and rainbows are set neath the sun
Where hopes aspirations and dreams are in store its only a step from the broad free for all Sometimes i wonder IL settle for grain more than the gold or the emerald chains
IL gather my thoughts and let them run free then sanction my dreams to the world of the free the shadows of verse are settled in hope where the words of the Savior are sanctioned and terse
There's many a fool that dances in dreams whilst the wise men lose words in their vision and schemes the hills they did offer such scenes to delight with their forests of green and their blossoms so white
Where the deer it doth run and the arrow doth fly and there's many a hope in the wink of an eye down through the centuries and over the plains where the wind blows its stories and ones born again
Whilst the seasons are splendid in all their delights Wei gather the berries afore the moonbeams tonight.
poets visions
In caricature's of people that i know i sketched with pen those words that flow in deftly fingers graced with awe i humbled saints and sinners all
The craft i used was born of grace with visions placed in time and space the words were etched in prose so free with saintly robes and wordily free
The scenes were set in heavens gowns where rabbits scurried o'er the downs where foxes chased and hares did leap where farmers rarely counted sheep
The cockerel crowed at early morn the bantams pecked on fallen corn the child he played amongst the hay where crickets sang and field mice played
The valleys offered dales and glans where heathers rich were set in vain though sun did shine upon the scenes where poet's dreamed and rascals schemed
The town clock chimed the hour at dawn where folks would flock to buy their corn where alleys narrow and twisted lanes offered hope to lovers again
The roads were rich in open scenes where hills and forests woodland leans where grass was green and rich in flower amongst the leaves and densely boughs
Of times i wrote a foolish line humbled my diction with silly rhyme ofttimes i lost the thread of verse just left it bare and unrehearsed
Now all i see is hope and dreams where foolish maids do cry and scream whilst young men drink the hours away the children sing and play their days.
Storm in a teacup
Like a storm in a teacup when the wheels are unstuck like a mine field in Autumn they rot in the muck like a raven that searches for more faults left at sea like a tumbledown shack where humanity's free
So long were the pages and blessed was the verse like the showers in autumn and spring unrehearsed like Te shadows in moonlight where infinity reigns he gathered the Truth there and held firm the reins
The charter was written and the Truth did unfold like lovers and virgins cast out in the cold there's a forethought that endeth in humanity's gains where the wisdom of wise men lay hidden in chains
Oh for the insight of sanity's call where the children are playing and the vagabond calls there's lambs in the hillsides and Daisy's all spread with a candle all lit to light you to bed
Oh the prophets they stumbled where few did declare that wars were just visions lost in their prayers the foolish tin soldiers marched to the cause where the flags flew so brightly and the seers they did pause
All alone on a hillside where children once3 played the cockerel did crow close to the milkmaid the foes wrote that justice was written in sand where the traitors sold bullets to every free man.
Through a Poets Eyes
This world is full of beauty through a poets eyes with love around each corner and each day a surprise there's wonders in Gods glory with joys to fill your days wonders in the hillsides and in the children's play
The paths that life doth offer us with trials and dreams to set flowing rivers hills to walk and seas to travel yet there's peoples of each continent ail full of great ideals wonders of the seven seas and golden daffodils
The birds they sing their melodies and the lion roars and preys the monkeys scamper in the trees and the lambs and dolphins play the artist paints a masterpiece and the builder builds a dream mansions on the hillside and pretty running streams there's forest walks to saunter and hills to view the scene rabbits in the meadows and crops of corn and bean
Love to wonder daily with beauty on parade pretty girls and lovely ladies sultry virgins and old maids the carousel it spins each day and the vardos wheels they turn one man in his castle and the other old and worn
Soldiers in their battles and kings upon their thrones one man his own master the other works alone there's music set to symphony and artistes with great style one plays a guitar loud and free and others sweet and with a smile
There's words to set us free to dream and words to hold us down one man is a free person and the other wears a frown the world is full of variety with cultures rich in tone Sanskrit lines of Truth and grace and others on the vine Prophets to study endlessly and writers of great pen some are fools in jeopardy and others are our friends
The sun comes up each morning with hopes and plans to set friends and neighbor's greet us here with sorrows and regrets there's happiness in a child's smile and a kiss from a lovers lips with freedoms on offer daily and religions soaked in myths.
The garden of pretence
In the garden of great pretence through the alleys of no consequence down the back streets of your mind you will find salvation
Salvation rests its case in words that know their place through twisting reels of rhyme lost in passions of time where wishing wells and rainbows dwell in worlds of common floating sails on seas of breeze and swell
Know not this to be true where ranks of men and fools hide their thoughts in words of rhyme where cards are dealt with masonic lines the passions that he held so true were wasted on such mortal fools
Only the clock doth tell the time where earthly passions dealt their slime the hand he held was soft like mornings dew and the heart that beat was sweet and true
The cross he carried was rich in grace with tattoed verses on its face the shallow words she whispered there in her heartfelt wanton prayer
The wandering thoughts that passed his time were nowt but hopes along the lines of verse and prose with stanza gained so he counted his blessings and swore again
The deuce was rich in hearts of red with kings and queens and aces fade the pack was shuffled and the game was set only the fools looked on with sad regrets
The monkey danced and the hyena bayed whilst the cleric prayed at an open grave the conquest won and the tarot caste but only the gypsy knew the cast
Throughout the seasons whilst children played the rabbits hopped in the Green green glade the master wrote his effigy upon the ridge where lambs run free.
Liberty Hill
Accustomed as I am to ladies in despair i cannot fathom faithfulness when promises declared the lion sleeps alone at night and the eagle he flies free whilst wolves are in the caverns and the forests beckons thee
The winding roads of sanity speak with fallen tongues whilst wise men talk of equality and jackal's still bang drums the corridors of power are set in shifting sands where lords and Lady's dance at night and lovers all hold hands
The book it reads its pages from sacred words of stone whilst cattle's graze on hilltops and maidens sleep alone the courtyard gates are open and the king he says a prayer whilst the orphan boy carries a candle up the stairs and always says his prayers
In days gone by and tales of olde the minstrels set the scene whilst wanton lovers danced at night lamps full of kerosene the candle flickered in the breeze and he held her in his arms whilst blind men curtsied in their sight and fishermen sold alms
There down in the village the blacksmiths at his stone his anvil hot and ready though his strength was his alone the Farmer blessed the crops that day and the filly bayed and laughed whilst the naked country maiden soaked there in her bath
The trees that shed their branches in autumns Windy glades where forests walks were handsome and blessed with sad old maids the grass it grew abundance there and the birds did chirp at morn whilst fools and drunkards left the inn lonesome way back home
The painter painted heavens door and the poet blessed the scene where rabbits scampered o'er the downs and the wise man had a dream the standards set in parchment and the words are crafted free where the wise man and the fool hold hands and call as one for thruth and liberty.
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