Don’t Think Me Gone

I am not gone

Please never think me so,

The world must turn

Tides ebb, and spirits grow.

Our souls evolve

As everything must do,

Though bodies fade

My essence stays with you.

It's nature’s way

That everything must change,

All life must grow

Then fall to rearrange.

But nothings lost

Just takes a different form,

Our souls remain

Complete as when we're born.

Some summer days

You'll feel me close at hand,

The softest breeze

That whispers in the sand.

A gentle touch

Much lighter than a kiss,

And you may know

That life is more than this.

So talk to me

And wait for my reply,

For every soul

Was given wings to fly.

And I will answer

Everything you say,

I won't forsake you

For a single day.

Copyright Alan Gilbert 2011

Speedbirds

I watch the silver streaks across the sky

The vapour trails that show where speedbirds fly,

At once my heart is travelling again

To Massachusetts Florida and Maine.

They soar above the clouds in graceful flight

Where dazzling sunlight paints their colours bright,

And stride across the oceans shore to shore

So distance doesn’t matter anymore.

Transfixed, I watch them racing on their way

I wonder how much longer till the day,

When I strain my eager eyes to see

The speedbird that is bringing you to me.  


Copyright Alan Gilbert 2011

The terror of Garsdoon moor

They went out on the moor alright

The sky was clear the stars were bright,

The cart track shone like ribbons white

That zigged and zagged into the night

Across the Garsdoon moor.

Good progress they did make alright

She, dressed in wedding gown of white

Who held the carriage side so tight,

That lurched and rattled through the night

Across the Garsdoon moor.

He was young and brave alright

With gun and sabre for the fight,

To guard his love, his heart’s delight

From highwaymen that stalk the night

Across the Garsdoon moor.

But now the scene will change alright

Thunder roars with lightning bright,

Strange sounds are heard from left and right

Tormented souls that own the night

Across the Garsdoon moor.

The young groom is afraid alright

He holds his gun and sabre tight,

The bride like gown is palest white

As wails and moans are at their height,

Across the Garsdoon moor.

Now dawn it will arrive alright

And they will search the moor till night,

Of coach and riders there’s no sight

Back home, lock doors and windows tight

Across the haunted Garsdoon moor.

The local folks they know alright

That ghouls and demons walk the night,

Transporting souls to hell for spite

Tormenting them for their delight

On fearful Garsdoon moor.


Copyright Alan Gilbert 2010

Alice in the Afternoon. Written and read by Alan Gilbert.

Don't Upset the Birds. Written and read by Alan Gilbert.

The Myth of Moonlight. Written and read by Alan Gilbert.

Alice in the Afternoon. Written and read by Alan Gilbert.

Dusk

Creeping silently

Soft fingered dusk,

Treads light upon

Moss painted walks.

Cloaking potting sheds

And greenhouse glass,

Then dulls the sheen

On apples at a pass.

Spreading effortless

Along the rows

Of beans and berries

Cardamom and thyme.

To cool the scented spoil

Of lawn mowed hay

Where languid tabby’s

Scratch the night away.

Stepping nimbly

Over lily ponds

Where keen eyed fishes

Hunted summer flies.

Now in the welcome shade

From day long heat,

An alabaster dancer

Cools her tired feet.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 2012.

Arid As Atacama

These times of low reception 

Unnerving me somehow. 
The frailest self-deception 
Falls painful on the brow. 
Piercing through the armour 
Which never should allow, 
A fear you may forget me 
For now, and now, and now. 

Atacama has a cactus 
That thrives without the rain, 
No wells or rivers feed it 
Yet still it makes its gain. 
Now with this veil upon me 
And no way to explain, 
My soul's an arid fragment 
Becoming dust again.

Copyright© Alan Gilbert 201