Author: Chris Goode

Ethereal wisps are thoughtsthat drift in morning mists and sit on the river whis-pering mysterious tales. There’s a ghost of a chancethat you might catch a glance of souls passing that way,there’s a ghost of a smilethat’s caught once in a whilewhen memories brighten sad eyes

An empty boxSitting on a shelfFilled with memories.I see it every day,Take it down sometimes,And hold it,Feeling its lightnessBut keeping it shut;Afraid the memoriesWill escape. Childhood streets,And alleyways behind,Sandy beaches,Sun warm on my skin,People I’ve known,Secrets I keep,Flown away,Gone,Like photosExposed to light,If the bareness inside,Is revealed. One day,Someone willTake it downAnd look inside.But by thenThere’ll…

The sky turns pink, then blue “Wake up my love , we’ve got so much to doI’ll bring our morning tea for you”Lilies scent our bedroom with their bloomsMmmmmmm!We haven’t needed suite cases for so long This metal one looks OK and strong Careless scramble for whatever we can findStruggling to escape our To Do…

I hear what you say.You say it everyday.I’m not going to forget.No way ! Just my mind.Is not kind.So please remind.What you said ? So I get the shopping right.The list I can write.Bread white.Milk light. I’m confused can you say it again.Sorry to be a pain.It’s just plain.My memory has gone again. Roger P…

Night is a dark foeSleep the bus that never comes Listening to the sound of my heartBreaking cell by cell If I’m not carefulI will remember the tender you You should now beOnly a size of a memory Dwindling… Not still toing and froingIn my hearts chambers But dwindling….

Summer moves on through to Autumn. Long gone the Spring bloom and the blossom.Bees buzzing, doves cooing and chicks squabbling.Long gone the ducklings dabbling. Gathering of the Harvest is complete. Bales of straw gathered for the Winter, stored all neat.Bedding, feed and animal heat.Days grow shorter and wetter.Nights grow longer and colder.Green and yellow leaves…

Amongst coconut palms and fallen husks.Chomping on the grass and nibbling the odd shoot.There appears to be a sheep.Here in the tropics ?Not what you would expect to see or hear.A bleat or baa!It’s true. My eyes do not deceive me.I continue to stare at a Hair.So is it a Barbados, St Croix or Katahdin…

The book group come tonight, including Graham.I’m giving them a vegetable tagineand then fruit salad – some healthy foodto counter his usual diet of steak and chips. In Waitrose I fill the trolley with fresh produce:spinach, onions, and sweet potatoes. Then melon,pomegranates, grapes and oranges.Fresh ginger, garlic, cinnamon. Fara’s on the till, her lovely faceframed…

The blackbirds have come back to do their thingto throw their sudden weight and wingThe blackbirds have come back to tell their talesin territorial notes and scalesto wheel and spinand squabble near the garden binsand sing and sing, they’ve come to singand fling themselves at not very much o’clock. Their songs rise twice in the…

To be free, we left our old lives behind,but we never reached the end of our road,even when we reached our shining sea. So many things we never found time for,never got to see the Taj Mahal, or Kyoto,or experience the perfect peace of Iona. Now I have nothing left to lose, but walk on:someone…

Just go away that’s what I say cause you’re not wanted here you can struggle and fight but it’s not right why don’t you go away! so I’ll do as I’m told then I’ll grow old cause you’re not gonna get me!!

Wintry wind Slashing sleet In your face, Spiteful, Sharp Against your skin. And then sun, Shining sickly, Barely warm Until you reach The shelter Of fieldside bushes. Clouds disappearing, A grey blanket-like sky Covering the sun – Until it re-appears, Finding blue spaces And glittering in puddles Of rain water.

Remembered days of flying kites Our eyes up high Looking at sky, the rumbustious string unrestrained, its dance unruly. Sun up there too Warmth like passion Precarious passion, uncertain fantasy. Made dark as heroic tales become taller