Tired leaves



Before me, I see leaves in the wind
brought low by growing ambitions.
Once they clung to extended branches
that drew my gaze towards heaven;
where days were long and bright
and nights were filled with endless stars.
But in their search for clarity that a
supporting trunk proclaimed existed
the leaves dared to race against time,
only to be scarred by the seasons.
Now rooted in dreams no more,
like tattered laurels, the leaves are cast
aside by wild and unkind winds.
Though fate did play a merry tune once
but untethered to supporting limbs
the passing wind did change their vantage.
Just as all must shrivel and die
so too must leaves when left un-nurtured.

be forever mine



Ever softly did tears arrive
to awaken the night.
With it came the wind
to reveal its beauty
and the moon to shine
gently upon my cheeks.

Were I not already enamoured
with the sun my heart would
now burn to a different light,
my thoughts would turn
towards a deeper ocean
and Day would be but a dream.

These are, but foolish thoughts
for in truth all can be mine;
let the light of distant stars
be my inspiration,
the sun to remain my life and
let the moon be forever in my heart.

A golden park



Not far from where I live is a golden park,
Hidden from the reach of noise and crowds.
Within its boundaries grow wondrous trees,
Tall and wise who gently speak to me.
Theirs is not a language full of words.
They choose to speak through the swaying
Of leaves and branches, the snapping of twigs,
Through colours adorning blossoms of many hues.
Wrapped in natures sweet motherly scent and coat,
What they say is full of rhythm and harmony,
Always speaking of the virtues of love and peace.
From wisdom so deep comes their voice that,
Even the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
This one tree that everyday speaks to me,
In spring it whispers gently to remind me of
Natures love; pointing at the buds that bloom
And the rain that bathes and winds that soothes
And the shyness of the gentle loving sun.
By summer it speaks of joy and nurturing
As it basks under the sun’s passionate glow.
Tall, strong and proud it stands bearing a full coat
Of green swaying in the summer breeze.
By autumn it points to the end of bountifulness
And speaks of tears to come. Embracing the
Wind it reveals its inner beauty and grace,
Shedding light on tolerance and fortitude.
In winter stripped bare, wearing winters coat
It speaks of the secret of life and longevity;
Peacefully, silently, it stands listening to the wind.
Oblivious to its taunts it waits patiently, dutifully
Conserving every ounce of energy in readiness
For the awakening of the dormant sun to herald
The coming of spring and with it a new beginning.

J M Lysun

The lighthouse



Wave after wave,
and yet there is no give.
No walls to cave,
Just the will to live.

A beacon of hope,
standing in isolation.
Providing a life giving rope,
to guide away from desolation.

Fiercely blows the wind,
in its effort to topple the mighty walls.
Blunted, its powers will rescind.
Left to make only angry calls

The howl is mournful,
as the wall stand strongly defiant
Ever scornful,
it flashes lights that are riant.

The beacon of hope,
shines ever bright.
Helping lost men to cope,
against natures might.

When their eyes,
do meet this light.
With relieving sighs,
they do delight.

Home they safely go.
Steering towards waters calm.
Blessed by heavens glow,
they were kept away from harm.


J M Lysun