Carol Naylor's REVIEW it...

                                                                        courtesy of artifacts at the White Elephant The hands of the clock, silently ticking away, breathing life and spinning like a Catherine wheel, chiming and heralding the onset of a brand new day. The blanket of darkness lifted as day breaks. The sun rises, emblazoned as an orange speck, warming the wintry universe as the clock ticks on. courtesy of www.tapesandpolishes.com Having fun with HAIKU. An end to the day All forms of life hibernate Awaiting the morn. Walking down the street The sun pouring through the cloud ...

Anne, Harry and grandson, David.   A year of dread, suffering inevitability Of loss, someone we all treasured. You dad. Husband, father, grandfather, multi-faceted padre. Too harsh a sentence and too little time As fragile egos broke through emotional strain. The truth Dawned, reality, your light fading Shaken and thwarted by insecurities of life. We experienced your suffering, Watched you pitifully declining, slipping away From the endless love of your family.   The hardest part was saying goodbye, God bless, adios. United in our grief, fondness of heart, We will treasure the memories and celebrate your life Of achievement, a wealth of delight.   Newcastle University Graduation. 1976.     Harry Naylor fell asleep on the 21st February 2006 after he lost his battle with cancer.     COPYRIGHT 2013. Permission must be obtained from the author before using this poem. 

                                                courtesy of dricons.com Vows made, rings exchanged, hearts fluttering. We made a lifelong promise to cherish each other, Hopeful it would blossom and flourish in eternal bliss. Love, a precious gift. But ours was wrapped in cellophane Like a shapeless bundle of clay, suffocating Every breath of life from its lungs, Draining the blood from its veins, Reducing this gift to a limp reminder Of its former power of creation, its glory. Guaranteed for seven days they should have said, The price of love, not worth more nor less Than just a bunch of flowers, reduced, Almost given away for nothing, the value of love? It should have been priceless not worthless. courtesy of 1...

O Shylock, where is thy spirit of wrath To destroy thine enemy, Antonio? Where lies the seed of revenge That grew into baneful nothingness? The unremitting suff'rance of your tribe  Hath made a mockery out of thee. Thy malice has destroyed thy faith, Destroyed thee, stripped thee of all dignity. Thy mangled heart hast been broken, Stretched beyond recognition, The umbilical cord frayed, discarded carelessly. A despised pater, abandoned and rejected By Jessica, ridiculed and tortured by thine own misery. A lifetime punishment of scorn to endure, Festering in a living hell, damned and then reborn As a newly-baptised Christian. Mah?Chutzpah.  COPYRIGHT 2012. Permission to use this poem must be obtained from the writer.

  The woman surveyed the mound, the Garden of Eden, Tufts of velvety grass grew in patches on the barren soil, She knelt, lowered her head embarrassed by the tears And cried, A solitary figure Insignificant in this vast universe of life or death Inconspicuous in her grief, wretched and tormented, Lamenting the futile death of her young infant child. Head bowed, tears flowing Seeking solace through her suffering But finding none.  Copyright 2012. Permission must be obtained from the author before using this poem.

                                                               VOID. Devoid of life, purgatorial hell, my vision cloaked, With shells exploding, I stumbled on, blindfolded by shrapnel Onwards through the murky gates of hell, disquiet and unrest Inevitably greeting me through invisible wisps of smoke. Air expelled from my charred lungs as I choked back the vomit As my life dangled on a thread between purgatory and hell.   COPYRIGHT 2012. Permission must be obtained from the author to use this poem.   THE LOST YEARS.   dedicated to W.D.Hunt who stole my child from me The ruffled blonde hair, Penetrating brown eyes, The strained smile as the c...