Poems Are The Friends

Poems Are The FriendsPoet: John McLeod

Poems are the Friends we make them 
Expressing in words a thought 
Of happiness, sadness, caring, 
Experience dearly bought.

Poems have their own sweet language 
That buds and comes to bloom, 
Showing their many colours. . . 
Light in a darkened room.

Poems let us say: "I love you. . ." 
Poems let us say: "Goodbye. . . " 
Poems can be strong, or gentle, 
Raising a smile or sigh . . .

For poems are about our living 
The road that we, daily, take, 
Of Love and of selfless giving . . . 
Poems 
        are the Friends we make!

End Poem . . . Poet: John McLeod 

And some they tilt at windmills
And some they push the plough
The Poet does both in wind-filled wings
Above the "Wonder-How"!
And some may never see beyond
The bow-wave sparkling bright
To where the questing Soul will find
That broader, wiser sight.

Methings this sometimes Poet and Clown
Love's blessings rich endow,
To brush the stars as, through the glass
Sees much less darkly now!

It's The Journey That's Important . . . 
Poet: John McLeod 

Life, sometimes so wearying 
Is worth its weight in gold 
The experience of traveling 
Lends a wisdom that is old 
Beyond our 'living memory' 
A softly spoken prayer:

"It's the journey that's important, 
Not the getting there!" 

Ins and outs and ups and downs 
Life's road meanders aimlessly? 
Or so it seems, but somehow 
Leads us where we need to be, 
And being simply human 
We oft question and compare . . .

"Is the journey so important 
Or the getting there?" 

And thus it's always been 
That question pondered down the ages 
By simple men with simple ways 
To wise and ancient sages . . . 
How sweet then, quietly knowing 
Reaching destination fair:

"It's the journey that's important, 
Not the getting there!"

Oh, Sand Castle Days Poet: John McLeod

Sweet memories enhance 
The backwards glance 
Long into childhood's way, 
Hours by the sea 
Timeless, carefree 
Where the sun brightly shone

Every day, 
Looking out o'er the waves 
Soft, memory saves 
A joy that forever stays 
Held deep in that part 
Of one's innermost heart..

Of so happy, 
dear sand-castle days!

Awakening.... 
Poet: John McLeod 

Awakening, dawn's chorus 
Welcoming, the day new, untouched 
Waiting to be filled. . . 

And will we paint a rainbow 
With all its promise 
Or dull the canvas 
Sadly seen? 

Each day brings its own colours 
To be chosen, mixed, 
Pigments of joy, 
Happy moments, 
Smiles and laughter. . . 

And which will you choose? 
For 'Life' is choice, 
We are all painters 
In our own way, 
All needing to create 
Something of worth, 
Of lasting beauty, 
Marking our journey. . . 

Footprints in the sand. . . 

The sky today is azure, 
The sun warm and golden 
A filigree of light and shadow-play 
Through the gently swaying trees. 

I clean my brushes, 
Choose my palette 
Of vibrant, living colours, 
And begin to fill today's blank canvas