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Bertie Bond Poem
Will He Ever Sleep.
I sleep in William Thompson’s room,
he moans and gurgles in the gloom,
I’m often woken with a start
to the deafening thud of my own heart.
Like me, William worked away,
we’d nod in passing when he’d stay.
A man known for his thrifty chat,
alone at mealtimes, always sat.
An untouched breakfast at his chair,
no thumping work boots on the stair,
on holiday, perhaps he’d forgot
To inform the B&B, I thought.
I sleep in William Thompson’s bed,
he doesn’t realise he’s dead.
Five years hence he passed away
and still keeps coming back to stay.
09/12/2016
(Scare Me Good)
Copyright © Bertie Bond | Year Posted 2016
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Bertie Bond Poem
Natures Precious Gift.
Beautiful, each eyelash from tiny follicle to tip,
Each minute sculpted corner of his perfect rose bud lips,
Two exquisite pristine dimples upon his soft pink cheeks,
Nestled in soft blonde curls traced with golden streaks.
Miniscule, every fingernail, a wonder to behold,
The merest hint or wrinkles where each little finger folds,
Chubby feet in miniature, too small for any shoe,
Like pure alabaster, white and smooth, flawless and brand new.
Nature's gift to human kind, born vulnerable and weak,
Without nurture and selfless love the outcome would be bleak,
Yet, amazing nature has one last cunning trump to play,
One look into those small bright eyes will steal your heart away.
Copyright © Bertie Bond | Year Posted 2016
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Bertie Bond Poem
Dreamscape.
Soft mottled mists thickly swirl in the night,
Blanketed dreamscape composed in my mind,
Drifting unknowing towards some veiled site,
Through perceptibly thinning ethereal blind,
A tableau appearing by unconscious design,
As silvery grey wisps dissipate to reveal,
You, wreathed in light and moonshine,
Each detailed rendition so perfectly real,
My heart almost bursts with the love that I feel,
Reposed as in sleep, your silky blonde hair,
Flows over your face, memories warm with appeal,
Aglow my soul misses your beauty so fair.
Hand trembling, breath stilled, heart beats a pace,
As I part your soft hair to a skeletons face.
12/09/2016
Copyright © Bertie Bond | Year Posted 2016
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Bertie Bond Poem
Baby Dreams.
Candy floss dreams in pastel blue,
Soft soothing gentle lullabies,
Peaceful Rainforest sounds construe,
To close two tiny sleepy eyes.
The joy of Granny's gentle hug,
The love in Papa's quiet voice,
Bathtime glowing, all wrapped and snug,
The sandman leaves no room for choice.
Copyright © Bertie Bond | Year Posted 2016
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Bertie Bond Poem
Daybreak
So cold the night, like dead man’s hands,
Alone the weary watchman stands
cloak wrapped against the scything breeze,
His salt burned eyes cast to the seas.
Charts, geometric instruments,
In Illuminated casements,
All glint and gleam by candlelight,
Dancing devils in darkest night.
Useless tools for starless skies
adrift and blind until sunrise,
The crew uneasy, standing too,
Awaiting dawns first signs of blue.
Then, with a hint of indigo,
Heavens wide edge begins to glow,
Slowly, nights darkly shade rolls back,
Bright gold expelling deepest black.
Our spirits rise to greet the dawn
as details of the world, redrawn,
by the rising fiery lord of light,
Appear to our returning sight.
Copyright © Bertie Bond | Year Posted 2016
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