Oh, England,

you green and pleasant land,

your beauty never ceases to instil

a calmness in my hands.

A sense of peace; contentment

within my wandering mind,

a fulfilling feast for longing eyes

that seem always looking behind.

The golden greens of your pastures

covering long and rolling hills,

the succulent scent of your flowers

tickling senses to smile at...

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What sad weary eyes we have

that see, in all the world,

such poverty and pointless pain.

Would not the sunlight bathe upon it

if we simply look again?

For the eye of the beholder

may choose the depth of tint

we see, through a rose coloured lens.

A hint of fanciful forms,

as they filter the rays they sense.

From beneath the haze

of the shimmering sun,

l...

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(If Mother Earth could speak...)

I’m the first light of dawn setting fire to the skies,

the awe that ends with a soft, sated sigh.

I’m the slow, gentle sway of ancient, lofty trees,

branches of life filled with wonders to be.

I am sands and seas; a warm summer breeze

blowing soft, whispered tunes over ever-changing dunes.

I am stars in the heavens sailing high overhe...

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