Unconditional Love

The sun's just peeking out, outside my window
Everything is nice and bright, and the rays that give's life
To everything down below, seeing the happy faces,
Like a father watching his brood, it's enough, don't you know

Cause a father loves his children, his love is beyond measure
He's heart's always full, of love, unconditional love.
Am listening to the most wonderful piece of music
It, feels my heart, as if Papa is up there, playing on his harp

The feeling is so keen, feeling tears behind my eyes
Now their silently falling, constricting my breathing, how I miss my Papa.
That's what music does to me. why must I feel so deeply
But when it comes down to the music, am a total€ wreck

Now the flood gates has open I simply can not control them
Must take hold of myself, and breath easy & slow.
About time, I grew up I guess... don't you know.
Sorry folk this is I suppose, to be about the sun.

But as it peeks behind the clouds, sometimes thick, others gossamer, like
It's really saying have no fear, am always here and about
Not always where am wanted but am always up here
Maybe hiding behind the clouds, that's something I can't help 

Hiding behind those dense clouds, you see they won't let me out.
Whenever there's a slit breaking out, in the clouds
I pop my eye out, just for a moment ...to see who needs me, most.
I took me so long to pull through...the sun got tired of waiting

So it's gone behind the clouds, now it's popping its eye out,
Like a sparkling diamond in the firmament,  its playing hide and seek,
Don't you know we need you says I, everything so sodden down here
Why must you be playing hide and seek when there's work to do here

So come on you, wonderful you, Mr, Sunshine,  shine on us just for a little while.

Manic Intensions

We came back from holiday to a mountain of wood
In the middle od the lawn, because dear Edds...
Been pruning to make it lighter... now the boy adds to it
The Eucalyptus tree that he just butchered

Now the boy's gone round the bend, ...in a gale force wind,
Decided to light a fire, not an open fire must say 
But in one of those chimney contraptions... smoke everywhere
Flames leaping, leaping far and wide, so near the other trees,

But he wont listen, to any warnings as his working like mad,
Chopping and burning, the wind and smoke all around him ,
Swirling like a twister ...the flames goes higher and higher ,
Spilling out of its grate, and him working with manic intension,

Wont listen to reason ...not a day to light a fire ,
But it makes him more determined, just hope he doesn't set fire
To the open surroundings, there's me standing by ,with hose in hand .
Just in case the old boy trips... and sets himself on fire

As he comes in grinning, looking like a lumber jack,
Must say was not amused.. he and I all smoked out...
Smelling worst than a kipper...tomorrow much of the same I guess.

                                        By Connie James 

 

Courtesy

The evening has come, that's when one feels free to just sit
By the glowing fire, relaxed, pen in hand waiting for inspiration.
To be inspired is to feel with your whole being,
To what its right or wrong, it is right to expect,

That people who know you, or they think, they know you,
To treat one with courtesy, to be treated as one would expect
To be treated oneself etc, etc not be taken advantage of  
It is wrong that the people,  who think they know you,

Take advantage off one's good heart, one's kindness
One's knowledge that everything isn't what it should be,
Even though one would do anything absolutely anything,
To help to inspire,  and not to be selfish the  me, me only me, society.

The desire to bend one's at their will,  to expect one to be free
At any moments notice, to be there no matter what and in good heart..
I had known someone like this, that would say jump and one would say how high,
I would have done anything for this person, but their selfishness was such,

That was so tiresome, and she made use of me, only when it suited them.
If I suggested let us do this or that, it was always a no, no, no
If I went to see them they were always, to busy but then they'd ring
Let's do such and such and ones suppose to jump through hoops.

Only when they'd needed some favour, they'd get in touch with me
And of course I'd always oblige, that was just me.
But if one turned the tables and asked a favour instead,
You know what the answer would be, do you not my friends.

                                        By Connie James 

Favourite Music

Today somehow can't get my favourite music out of my head
Had rather a long stretch morning of ironing,
but can't do anything like that, without my favourite composers
Don't know how I got it done...but I did every single piece of it

So I started with Beethoven and finished with Tchaikovsky
With the dulcet tones of Beethoven, such sweet melodious sounds.
But just couldn't my teeth into it, needed something to get my blood going
So Tchaikovsky found its way, on to my music centre

And from the first note, I was electrified, not literally you know,
So I started with Swan Lake, immediately it fired my brain
As I ironed the old boys shirts, I was on cloud nine
I ironed on and on, and in my mind, I was waltzing

To that beautiful Swans Lake music, by the time little swans came in
I was dancing with my iron.
That iron was gliding over those shirts, effortlessly I must say,
On and on it went,  ironed shirts sheets even nick nicks,

There was no stopping me, by the time the Hungarian dance came in,
I was floating, floating on a cloud... each note was ecstasy each beat,
Like the beating of my heart,  as I stopped and stood there conducting,
The Spanish dance came in, and so I danced and conducted in turn

By now my blood was on fire,  as I danced and danced with my iron
And then the mazurka came in, and I was lost, lost in time
I had these crazy feelings running through me, must say tears spilling out
The euphoria the manic euphoria inside of me, as I danced on and on.

I smell burning,... oh bugger... I burned the old boys shirt
But what the hell, it matters not...his got plenty more
So I danced ironed and danced... my heart feels so full
By the throbbing, sounds, that's going through me

As I remember Papa saying, darling feel, just feel the music,
As he was trying to teach me,  now I think and say
I do Papa I really do...it feels as if my heart bursting,
With happiness to the majestic sounds of Tchaikovsky
Always has this effect on me.

                           By Connie James.

Whispers In The Wind

Whispers In The Wind

In the vastness of our world,  One feels so alone so lonely within
But if I whisper long and slow, will you hear me my love
Will you hear the whispers in the wind, that whistling
That goes round & round, that ghostly sound.

Don't you see that's me calling, calling you, but you my love
Do not answer me.. there's a fire burning in my heart
And am waiting, waiting, for you, my love to quench it
Yet I know, I know my love, that you do not share this need

This obsession that's driving me insane, can not eat nor sleep my love.
I see you, in the distance, you look so young, much too young,
For me, my love my head tells me do, not be foolish
But my heart, my heart is breaking, should I whisper louder my love

I have not the strength, to whisper much louder... it makes no difference
On the far horizon, I see you or is it an illusion, my heart skipping a beat
by that vision.Your so young and beautiful, that proud gait in your walk
And the way you look at me, please do not look that way, at me my love

What chance do I have my love if you look at me that way
Your mesmerizing eyes affects  me my love, my heart cries for me, my love
How can I let you go, but letting you go I must can't you see
You must not want me, my love it's not right to want me

I know I've whispered in the wind, my love
Didn't think you heard me, my love, now here you are
What do I do know... I've never felt so alive, I feel like a youngster,
the sight of you plays delirious havoc within, me my love

The intensity of this love is right beyond me
but its not right to keep you, my love please do not cling to me, my love
I must let you go, although the fire in my heart
Will keep burning for you, my love

Absent Friends

My friend has been absent...for sometime now
whenever I look for him he's never there, you know
I know his always busy, with what have you
yet I know his there, but he has no time for me

he's got me into this game this writing lark
it was him that said, you've got a poet inside, of you.
don't be ridiculous says I, can't string two words together.
From just some comment, I made on some of his poems

but how I miss my friend...but he's too busy
he brought feelings I didn't know I had, inside of  me
and those feelings has unleashed, the monster in me
it has made me think, of the things I've stashed away

things that were buried, deep inside of me
has come to the surface, but can't cope with all of the hurt
need someone to say it'll okay you know
how does someone separate, the good from the ugly

the torment that I feel it's short of being demented
must be a demented case to care so deeply
where are you my friend when I need encouragement
you got me into this so please, get me out of it

I rant and rave at those, at those that have hurt me
but I really don't want to feel like this...
because everybody wants a piece of me,
I haven't much left to give, physically or emotionally

it seems am all spent, wringed out and thrown away      
where are you my friend when I need an ear
so preoccupied you are, with the things that you do
haven't had anyone that I could open up to

my hearts so full emotionally, with all the shit that's going round, me
maybe it's my fault, for letting things get to me
but this is the only source left open to me
so I'll rant and rave, for a while longer, my friend if you don't mind

my son seems to sense, my mood you know
to quieten my mind, he's playing a sweet piece of music
my mind and soul, are being put to bed
with the wonderful sounds, coming out from that room


music usually quietens down my soul, says she smiling.

                                By Connie James

The Sea

I must go down to the sea again, the lonely sea and the sky
Where I once met my love, underneath the moonlit sky
I said I 'd meet him there, but he was nowhere to be seen
Up and down those dunes I paced, my patience wearing thin

It was a crystal clear day, as I sat waiting for him
the scene in front of me, such a scintillating sea,
mesmerizing me, I sat here and waited,
And waited on and on, I got my book out, immersing myself in it

I forgot I was waiting for my love, for the beauty around me.
As if in a dream land, indeed I was, sitting by the whispering sea
The magical music, seemed so far away, as I listen keenly,
and followed the enchanting sound as I waded into the sea  

as far as my knees it was a crystal clear day, like no other
and the sound didn't seem to be so far away...
as I walked in a little further, there was a peal of laughter
it made me smile to such a lovely sound, the whispering became quieter.  

As I stood my ground then I spied a movement, just to the left of me
I swear I saw a mermaid, cavorting in the sea, she did some flips,
And her tail I did see, curiosity took the better of her,
as she wanted a better look at me, I waved at her she waved back at me,

the enchantment of her song, was something else you see
it was heavenly.


1. 
   

   
   

   
   

 



2. • 
     

Hate Shopping

1. 
   Just hate the thought, of going out there
   Hunting for things I don't need, the old boy has a job,
   getting me something, birthdays, etc. Hate going to the shops
   Where there is so much greed, must be getting older
   
   for I don't see the need, the frustration of hunting
   for that elusive, piece of clothing, I don't need.
   I don't need another dress another skirt, another coat, don't you know
   my friends say, when I shop, I just buy lingerie and shoes
   
   I guess, at times that's true, but if one looks nice, on the inside.
   it makes one feel good on the outside, as you go strutting your stuff.
   I don't want any trinkets, any gold I don't do that, much prefer designer jewels
2. I don't like jewellery, jewellery over the top cheapens one.
3. 
   
4. as a youngster, only tart's were laden with jewellery
   seeing that left a bad effect on me, one must not emphasise
   showing off what one has poor, show, don't you know
   as, for perfumes, I've enough to last some time
   
   and shoes, I've a cupboard full, of them
   I might never be able to wear again, myself
   as for sandals and shoes, it breaks my heart,
   because of my dickey foot, I can not wear them
   
   even my kick-ass boots, you'd think I could wear
   but I've not the strength, to push through, it's exasperating, you know
   they are sexy and I miss them, as for my dancing shoes
   oh, my I could cry the slapper, sandals I use to go about, in.
   
   clip-clopping, clip-clopping, every which way I went
   they knew it was me approaching, like a young colt in the street
   but my feet won't allow me to display my style my hallmark,
   of that clip-clopping Connie is about,  instead, am wearing
   
   these ghastly ugly shoes, those shoes aren't me
5.  don't you know, vain I guess that's me 

                                 By Connie James 

 

So,

1. 
   

Que Bela Lua

 

I see the moon , and the moon sees me 

God bless the moon and God bless thee..
The moon is a celestial body ,floating in space
At least I think its floating, as a child always wondered,
How it stayed up there ,so out of reach,
Now I know gravity holds it there, it has many faces...
My favourite are the crescent and the full moon...


Just the other night ,there was the most amazing beautiful
Bright shiny... moon, outside my window... QUE BELA LUA ...
What a beautiful moon says I...as I stand by the window watching,
Wondering, not realising someone was watching me... I lifted my hand
 
And smile, as he walked by, taking long strides, glancing back at me...
The vision was so clear, that I swear he was right there beside me...
I looked to my right ,but of course no one was there
But I could feel his breath on me... fanciful or what says I ...
 
Wishing it were true, regretfully I sigh , hysteria taking hold of me
Come back my love , my very first love, wont you come to me
As I search high and low, following his trail to no avail...
Why you run from me... don't you know , you and I are meant to be
 
I saw you first ,by the shiny moon ... I knew there was no hope for me
I see your face, in everyman I see... so you see my love no one else
Will do for me... the moon never lies, it brought you to me,
Now when I see the moon I howl... yes I howl at the moon ahh wolff
In ecstasy...

                                                                             5 of September  2013
                              By Connie James

Kite Flyer

I was that child , chasing the kite..
With euphoric, excitement...
My brother and I always together
Running hither and thither ...we were inseparable. He & I

What I missed most was our togetherness..
Like shoeless ragamuffins we run about our land ..
Chasing the life stock...climbing the trees, without a care .
Life was beautiful, then one day he nearly dies .

Run over by a car..I was left lonely and dejected,
And lonely as lonely as can be...  he was away for quite some time ,
He was at deaths door... but he pulled through, am glad to say
And once again I had my brother...

So we carried on as if nothing had happened ..
The day he came we made a kite ,
He made a frame and covered with coloured silk paper,
We attached a tail... a really long tail

With string and tied rags... all we needed was a reel of string ,
& attached from the middle to four corners ...
The kite was ready to let rip ,
So we climbed on the summer house ...

I can still hear, the sound of that kite ripping through the air
We flew or kite , and fought with our kite,
From the children across the water,

We entangle our kite ,and fought with theirs ,
& finely pulled it across the water..
In euphoria and laughter we fall about,
The summer house kicking and laughing ...

And life was beautiful once again...
I love my brother ...Tiamo Luis ...

                                     By Connie James

Music In My Soul

Today somehow can't get my favourite music out of my head
 Had rather a long stretch morning of ironing,
 but can't do anything like that, without my favourite composers
 Don't know how I got it done...but I did every single piece of it

So I started with Beethoven and finished with Tchaikovsky
With the dulcet tones of Beethoven, such sweet melodious sounds
But just couldn't my teeth into it, needed something to get my blood going...
So Tchaikovsky found its way, on to my music deck ...

And from the first note, I was electrified, not literally you know,
So I started with Swan Lake...immediately it fired my brain ...
As I ironed the old boys shirts ...I was on cloud nine
I ironed on and on, and in my mind, I was waltzing

To that beautiful music Swans Lake's.......
By the time, little swans came in.
I was dancing with my iron.
That iron was gliding over those shirts, effortlessly

I must say, on and on it went... ironed shirts sheets
Even nick, nicks there was no stopping me ...
By the time the Hungarian dance came in
I was floating, floating on a cloud... each note was ecstasy

Each beat, like the beating of my heart
As I stopped and stood there conducting,
The Spanish dance came in.
And so I danced and conducted in turn..

By now my blood's on fire.
As I danced and danced with my iron.
And then the mazurka came in ...and I was lost, lost in time
I had these crazy feelings running through me,

Must say tears spilling out
The euphoria the manic euphoria inside of me
As I danced on and on..I smell burning..oh bugger.
I burned the old boys shirt ...

But what the hell ... it matters not...his got plenty others
So I danced ironed and danced... my heart feels so full
By the throbbing, sounds, going through me
As I remember Papa saying, darling feel, just feel the music,

As he was trying to teach me ...
Now I think and say ... I do Papa I really do.
It feels as if my heart bursting
With happiness to the majestic sounds of Tchaikovsky
Always has this effect on me..

                        By Connie James

The Battle of The Vine

The old boy went yet again...trekking over the Purbecks. 
I said to him, before you go, would you bring the steps in. 
As I want to thin the vines, He obliges his not a bad old boy
Irritating at times , but so am I, As soon as he goes, I get cracking

Pruners in hand I climb the step ladder, and nearly became a cropper
Its as if the steps did the splits, steadying myself, hanging by an arm
Got down those steps as fast as lightning... my shoulder hurt for some time...
Thing is I didn't link it...with the battle of the vine  
 
You wouldn't believe how fast, that vine was growing.
In fact it was growing as fast as wild fire.
You couldn't see the grapes ,for the foliage was as dense, as a wild Forest...
Not giving up I prune and prune and pulled....and pruned   

Once again I become a cropper ....cuts and scratches
Cursing and Swearing ,pulling and tugging
This bruised mad women on top of a ladder
But wining the fight, an almighty fight

Scratch and bruised and dust in my eyes...
I could see the grapes at last , proud of what I've achieved
I go and take a shower... much refreshed I sing Hurrah
I've won the battle of the vine ...except the next day

I was full of insect bites , itching and scratching,
And cursing those little blighters...
With eleven and counting insect bites... its driving me to destruction
those blasted Blandford flies .
 
But to see those lovely grapes at last , was it worth it ...you bet yes it Was...

                                           By Connie James
 

Hi There My Friend

Hi there my friend...do you mind if I describe you, as the world
You see before you... there wasn't much imaginary
If one tried, one would...soon be slapped down,
There were no encouraging words for me 

Don't you know... but since you, my grey matter, 
Somehow works overtime, my brain is so full off thoughts
I find it hard to separate them...so I write my words,
Some of them so full of woe...but you see my friend,

That's me you know, I try to write words ,
Some of them you don't like... but constructive criticism ,
Would be most welcome... as i am new at this game,
But I can't help that ...that's what's inside me,

Its hard for me... to separate the good the bad from the ugly
Don't you see...but since you...things changed drastically ,
My mind is so full , so full of everything
Until I write down... to relieve my poor brain ,

There's a mismatch of words... that I don't understand,
Sometimes its so crowded in my head,
That I can not sleep... it goes round and round
I have to say , please go away, let me sleep

So you see my friend... if I write something
You think its no right ...you can say ,that's a lot of crap.
Get it right !!! but in a nicer way ............

                                 By Connie James

Whispering River

So this is the mesmerising river
That keeps you so enthralled,
It seems to me, that's a very hungry river,
Spuming white, white water like a cloud,

Frothing rumbling, pulling at you,
And you fighting, fighting that angry river like a tiger,
Struggling, imploring, let me pass.
But it was annoyed having a weakling like me fighting it...

In my mind's eye or was it a dream,
I've seen that talking whispering river.
Whispering, whispering...and I not, understanding 
Foolishly looking for a way to cross,

Maybe there will be stepping stones 
A causeway perhaps, to carry me across
My heart's in my mouth, tears on my face,
Fearing, fearing... fear in my soul,

Reaching, reaching for the other side.  
for he was waiting for me. for such a long time  
But the hungry river won't give up its secrets...
That's not just any river floating sedately to the sea.

That river is alive roaring, roaring, 
As if to say, do not mock me
Arms wide open in supplication I implore, please.
But it wasn't listening to me...

                             By Connie James