Sacred day sunday cathedral as always 

We walked in a new way 

This time inside 

I met a Welsh reverend 

He bought me a present 

Well he payed for a present I chose for my love 

Observed art work in there 

Preserved well and kept there 

Gargoyles and fairies  

Oh spirit of love 

My twin flame my best mate 

Oh righteous our breastplate 

Truth round my waist ...

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The pomegranates
are ripe on the tree
across the road
and the swallows
are skimming beneath the power lines
and the soft blue sky
The washing on the balcony rail is dry
The village dogs bark
Church bells summon summer in
and the early morning peace
is broken as a tractor heads for the fields
The sun heats the soft grey
feathers on the pigeon’s back
and he leaves his chimney perch
abo...

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We know each year it comes to us
Darkness, to bright cold winter days
The greens become a golden yellow
Before bareness reveals ageing old oaks
Yet cousins stay that darker luscious green 
And brave red berries are to be born again
In time for their festive December displays

Birds, squirrels, foxes and rats still search
To find enough to live in our way 
Close enough, but not as our pre...

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Caught up in the late summer sunshine

Swaying trees and light breeze

Almost silent, the whispering wind

is harmony to my spiritual rhythm,

A melody rising and falling in perfect tone

a softening of my thoughts

transporting me to that theta world

where relaxing images float 

on waves of joy and pleasure.

Seizing every single moment

each one an enlightened condition,

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Elijah - the Lord of storms, 
Dew, hail, rain and thunder,
Today rides a chariot.
The Prophet with an effort
Breathe the autumn.

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Elijah - the Lord of storms, 
Dew, hail, rain and thunder,
Today rides a chariot.
The Prophet with an effort
Breathe the autumn.

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It’s another grumpy Sunday

Zoe’s late picking up Grandad

And the chicken is nearly done.

I’ve got my feet up watching the race

And shouts are heard in the kitchen

Where I haven’t dared to show my face

It’s another grumpy Sunday

And I haven’t even decanted the wine.

I’ve had to put the race on record

As I’ve been told to set the table

But everything is rosy,

Ev...

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Team GUM are taking on the Riff Awards.

Step 1.

Like the Riff page here: https://www.facebook.com/RiffMediaUK

Step 2.

Send an email to: adam-ruane@hotmail.co.uk

Put forward Kris Fogg for BEST NEWCOMER.

Put forward Ushiku Crisafulli for BEST NON MUSICAL ENTERTAINER.

You'll see us both repping Riff at RIFF SURVIVAL SUNDAY - MARCH 31st

Cheers,
Ushiku.

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Sunday afternoon is a day to wash the car

It’s a day for watching TV, not a day for going far

My missus thinks it’s a day for doing things, things that would otherwise be missed

And certain things like watching TV don’t seem to be on her list.

Her list and mine differ in many ways and they’re hard to reconcile

She doesn’t seem to understand that things can wait a...

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Sunday 

is  for  drowning 

a  morning's 

morphine  riddle  of

words  and  stolen

rhymes

unkempt  in 

dubious  time

and  exorcised

design

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We snuggle and scruffle

Tangled in each others love

We snooze and snore

Wrapped in each others arms

We nibble and nuzzle

Bound in each others innocence

This time equates

To a divine eternity

content

and wonderfully misspent

With you

© Katy Hughes 2012

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Sunday always seems to be

The day my thoughts go flying free,

And times gone by return to me,

From yesterday.

A Sunday street's a bygone street

That echoes someone else's feet,

And other voices, soft and sweet,

From yesterday.

A Sunday bell's a timeless knell

That tolling has a tale to tell,

Reminding me when all was well,

From yesterday.

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