Images

'Clear Thinking' by Richard Price, www.richardprice.nl

In a small back room or cloistered cell

recalling things we know so well

our minds a store of cascading scenes

a glorious kaleidoscope of inner dreams.

*

In country now mid-grove of trees

breathe delicate aroma of scented breeze

beneath my feet the good rich earth

enchanted by choir of wind and birds.

*

Oft' in the darkness of the night

with wonderful eye of inner sight

strolling again remembered places

kiss and caressing familiar faces.

*

Stored personal images we thus renew

uplifting spirit with treasured views

so may people where'er we be,

blessed with our own humanity.

© Dennis Crompton 1996

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

'Tis but a step

 The storm has passed

and wispy clouds drift lightly ‘cross the sky,

light breezes dance richly-coloured leaves,

magic carpets … ever-changing on the ground.

 *

The air is sweetly fresh,

and sounds of cattle reach me from afar,

small birds flit to and fro twittering their joy

and find their echo deep within my soul.

*

I pause and rest awhile,

my eyes drink in the wonder that surrounds;

I feel a gracious peace around me fall,

senses recreate as from this well I draw.

 *

‘Tis but a step

from life’s busy round of all we do,

to close a door and stroll in nature’s way

imparting balance to each passing day.

 *

Dennis Crompton © 1994

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

Sometimes...

So many times I have wondered how my mother felt about me. I never knew her; she died when I was one year old. Part of this poem covers those thoughts.

Sometimes I wonder at how I came to be…

From two separate entities preparing parts of me;

mother and father, loving ecstasy,

nine months later then entranced ME!

*

Sometimes I wonder what Mother’s thoughts had been,

the moment her eyes first gazed at precious me;

tired and aching reaching out to me,

held me, kissed me…then whispered, what?…to me?

*

Sometimes I wonder at the sights I came to see,

living earth, clouds and sky, ever changing scenes;

birds and beasts, fish in the sea…

the colours of nature all wondrous and free.

*

Sometimes I wonder at what life is all about;

winter and summer, floods and droughts;

the bitter, the sweet, certainty and doubt;

living and dying, a whimper, a shout.

*

Sometimes I wonder at the living mystery

of skin, blood and bone forming the visible part of me,

clothing the invisible you see as me;

sometimes I wonder…now, which is the real me?

*

Dennis Crompton © 1998

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)

What then?

Tired…I cannot sleep…but think…

mind-centred on the stretch of time measuring that which is my life,

or will be soon.

*

My body tells my mind that this is so

and Nature also sings the self-same tune, one every hand,

I see the rising of the new amidst the stately-aged, inevitably decaying too.

*

Inside this house that I have known so long,

feeling at times trapped or hindered in some way;

this form even so gifted to me, many facets of our humanity to see.

*

The bitter and the sweet have passed this way

which I with all my faculties have keenly felt,

those things which made me human,

passed on at birth by mother and the Great Design,

make me think were all the steps I’ve trod part of some plan?

For if they were then I am rich indeed …

*

I’ve seen the depth of colours range in Nature’s glorious hues;

heard, felt the rapturous thrill of music’s harmonies fill my heart,

lifting me to heights of ecstasy or helping me to weep with therapeutic tears,

refreshing and uplifting me.

*

I’ve felt that inner joy and tenderness

of comradeship in humanities’ warm embrace,

walked, talked and shared with others

like myself who’ve felt the wonder of our

mysterious birth, and thought…

*

If then this probationary walk of mine,

short-spanned on planet earth’s terrain encased in time

has yielded so much wealth to my earth’s dust, life-given by the Spark Divine…

what then of that which is to come, which calls me as each day’s setting sun?

*

Dennis Crompton © 1994

(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2013)