Tears from Heaven

In the quiet of night, when stars weep unseen,
The heavens release their sorrow, a celestial stream.
Each drop carries memories, love, and pain,
A message from those departed, a bittersweet refrain.

Loss weighs heavy on our hearts, grief a relentless tide,
Yet hope blooms like a fragile flower, refusing to hide.
The rain falls not in sorrow, but in vibrant hues,
For every tear holds a promise—the future we choose.

See the rainbows in the tears, a bridge to the beyond,
Where loved ones dance in sunlight, their presence ever fond.
They whisper secrets in the droplets, stories left untold,
Guiding us through storms, reminding us we’re not alone.

So when the skies weep, remember this divine art,
The tears from heaven carry messages from the heart.
Loss may break us, but hope stitches us anew,
And rainbows remind us: love transcends, forever true.

Inner Peace

In the kaleidoscope of my mind, where shadows play,
A dance of colors, guiding the way.
Psychedelic whispers, soft and profound,
In the labyrinth of thoughts, serenity is found.

Embracing hues, a cosmic ballet,
Inner peace blooms in the mind’s array.
Mystical melodies, a gentle breeze,
Echoes of tranquility, put the mind at ease.

In the tapestry of thoughts, a silent unfold,
A journey within, a story to be told.
Ephemeral patterns, like dreams that soar,
A tranquil sanctuary at the core.

Through the corridors of the soul, a peaceful stream,
A mosaic of visions, like a waking dream.
In the cosmic dance, where thoughts find release,
A psychedelic journey to inner peace.

Van Sloth

In a forest grove where time stands still,
Lives Van Sloth, with an artistic skill.
Brush in hand, so patient and slow,
Paints like Van Gogh, with colors that flow.

His strokes are deliberate, his pace so serene,
Every masterpiece a languid dream.
The stars in the night, they twinkle and gleam,
On his canvas, they dance in a cosmic stream.

With each stroke of his brush, a story unfolds,
A world of wonder, in hues of gold.
Sunflowers droop, in the sun’s warm embrace,
As Van Sloth captures their languid grace.

His art may be slow, but it’s worth the wait,
For the beauty he creates is truly great.
Van Sloth, the painter of tranquil delight,
In his unhurried world, he finds his light.

Terror in the Kitchen!

This is inspired by a performance we saw at the puppet theatre in Baku, Azerbaijan, many years ago.
I still have nightmares!!!!

In the kitchen on a moonlit night so still,
A mutant tomato and aubergine did thrill,
With twisted vines and hues of eerie red,
They rose from their pots, filled with dread.

Their skins contorted, strange shapes they bore,
In the pale moonlight, an ominous roar,
They rolled on the counter, a gruesome sight,
Terrorizing the kitchen, causing a fright.

The tomato with tentacles, a monstrous feat,
It slithered and squirmed, none could defeat,
The aubergine, with eyes like burning coals,
Haunted the shelves, claiming their roles.

Together they danced, a macabre waltz,
Leaving a trail of sauce and purple salts,
Pots and pans clanged, the fridge did quake,
As the mutant duo caused quite a wake.

But as dawn approached, their powers did wane,
The mutant tomato and aubergine, they waned,
Back to their pots, they returned with the light,
Leaving the kitchen, no longer a fright.

Though the night was strange, filled with dread,
The mutant tomato and aubergine had fled,
In the kitchen, now calm, bathed in the day’s grace,
The memory of their terror, but a moonlit trace.

The Rise of the Terracotta Army

In ancient China’s land of lore,
Where history’s tales forever soar,
Beneath the earth, in silent wait,
The Terracotta Army sealed their fate.

Beneath Xi’an’s vast, ancient soil,
A secret lay, wrapped in turmoil,
Soldiers made of clay and stone,
Guarding the emperor’s eternal throne.

For centuries, they stood below,
Warriors in rows, an endless show,
In darkness deep, they bided time,
Preserving stories of an age sublime.

But destiny’s call, it could not hide,
As time marched on, they would not bide,
From the earth, they rose one day,
To greet the world in grand display.

Each soldier carved with skill and grace,
A warrior’s spirit in every face,
Terracotta hearts, once cold and still,
Now brought to life, a destiny to fulfil.

From the depths of time, they reappear,
A testament to history’s grip so near,
The Terracotta Army, now they rise,
A wonder to behold ‘neath ancient skies.

Revenge of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers

In lands where fiery sunsets kiss the sky,
Where brave souls seek the heat that makes them sigh,
A tale unfolds of passion, bold and free,
For those who savor chillies, hotter than the sea.

Oh, lovers of the flame that dances high,
Embracing tongues with tingles, oh so spry,
You chase the Scoville scale’s uncharted zones,
Where capsaicin’s fire in each bite is sown.

From habaneros to the ghostly white,
You march through pepper fields with pure delight,
Your taste buds dare to brave the blazing storm,
As sweat-drops glisten, faces start to transform.

The Carolina Reapers, like devils red,
Ignite your senses, yet you forge ahead,
In curry pots and salsas, there they gleam,
A symphony of spice, your fervent dream.

So here’s to you, intrepid chili heart,
Whose cravings never waver, nor depart,
Your passion burns much brighter than the sun,
In each scorching bite, a tale of love is spun.

With every fiery mouthful you embrace,
A testament to ardour and to grace,
May your journey through the peppers’ fiery art,
Forever warm the cockles of your daring heart.

The Coolest DJ

In the heart of winter’s chill, a sight to behold,
A penguin DJ stands, all dressed in shades of gold,
With a slick tuxedo, and a hat tipped just right,
He’s the coolest bird around, spinning tunes through the night.

His flippers groove effortlessly as he takes the floor,
Commanding the turntables, a maestro to adore,
His beak selects the beats with finesse and with flair,
The crowd moves in rhythm, caught in his musical lair.

Under shimmering lights, he waddles and he glides,
A dancefloor packed with joy as he skillfully presides,
From smooth jazz to hip-hop, he mixes with such ease,
Creating magic moments, the penguin aims to please.

With every scratch and spin, the party’s spirits soar,
His beats fuel the celebration, and the crowd cries for more,
A super-cool penguin, an artist of the night,
Spinning discs and spreading joy, a scene of pure delight.

The Penguin and the Banana

Lacking inspiration today, I went for something completely random!!

In icy realms where snowflakes dance,
A penguin waddled with a merry prance.
Curiosity sparked, it found a treat,
A yellow treasure, sweet to eat.

With beady eyes and flippers wide,
The penguin approached, its heart a-tide.
A banana ripe, its hue so bright,
A fruity feast, a rare delight.

The penguin pondered, unsure and bold,
Should it nibble or leave the fruit untold?
With a playful peck, it took a bite,
Banana and penguin, a whimsical sight.

In icy lands, a bond was formed,
A penguin’s joy, a banana adorned.
Nature’s whimsy in a friendship’s swirl,
A penguin’s delight, a banana’s twirl.

Ungrateful Colonials!

Happy 4th of July everyone!

In lands afar, across the sea,
Where colonies sprung with great glee,
An Englishman thought with a wry smile,
On this Fourth of July, a day so worthwhile.

He chuckled and thought, “How quite absurd,
These ungrateful colonials, to be heard!
They broke our tea, they defied our rule,
Yet now they celebrate, oh, what a fool!”

But deep inside, he couldn’t deny,
Their spirit and zest that seemed to fly,
For though they rebelled, they found their way,
To independence, on this special day.

So raise a glass to Fourth of July,
To those who broke free, with no goodbye,
The Englishman may jest, but deep inside,
He knows their spirit cannot be denied.

Spaghetti Cowboys in the Spanish Desert

Did you know that the so-called spaghetti western films were actually made in Spain? I’ve written a blog about my recent trip to the village where “A Few Dollars More” was filmed.

Spaghetti Cowboys in the Spanish Desert

In the Spanish desert, ‘neath a scorching sun,
Spaghetti cowboys ride, their spirit never undone.
Beneath the azure sky, vast lands unfold,
Seeking truth and justice, their stories untold.

With high-brimmed hats and leather boots they tread,
Mounted on their steeds, as time itself they thread.
Rifles by their side, their gaze determined,
Chasing justice’s echo through the American terrain.

The wind carries their songs across the dunes,
As they ride freely, unbound by earthly tunes.
The desert echoes with their jingling spurs,
Spaghetti cowboys, vigilant and bold adventurers.

With each sunset, a new adventure unfurls,
In the face of uncertainty, hope persists and swirls.
In the Spanish desert, where dreams come alive,
Spaghetti cowboys script their tales, their essence thrives.

Onward, cowboys, in your ceaseless ride,
Gallop towards the horizon, fear cast aside.
For in the Spanish desert, their legend shall endure,
Spaghetti cowboys, the epitome of freedom pure.