Congratulations Lin for having had your wonderful poem read out over the airwaves.

Yes. Well done, Lin.

A cure for Parkinson's- sounds like a miracle, but they do happen..
Not sure what it would mean for me, as only 2 years in to it, & not suffered a lot--yet; & hopefully it'll stay that way for a bit.

I don't want to know
What a cure could do
For me; cos you see

I'm in the early stages
Where I hope to stay for ages
With no tremor; forever

Would be good; BUT give me strength
To go the breadth and the length
Of the earth, sit by the hearth,

Wherever I must be
To find the sacred key
To open the door, to a cure,

A cure for sufferers of this curse
No need for doc or specialist nurse.
What a release. Welcome peace.

The Plan

I have a sort of plan
To become a better man
Improve myself and be, the person I would like to be

Then the blueprint oft rough drawn
belies the reality of this day that my plans may go astray
Despite my good intent, hurt caused that was not meant!

So back to the drawing board I will wend
to draw a plan that wont offend
This is what I'll do and plan the things that I may do
I'll try again to make things right
To be the person you might wish to keep

Allow sleeping dogs to lie
I will again try to be the best that I can be
The character you saw in me.

In this plan I believe you'll see continued hope for you and me.

NEW LIFE

The veil of darkness draws back the bed covers,
Slowly, as if still half asleep,
The insomniac moon already eagerly departed,
Moved on to another never ending shift,
Birds start their excited chatter about the busy day ahead,
And, rising puffed and warm, from their hedge row nests,
Meet their fluffy, shaky, timid new neighbour,
Born under cover of the dark, watched only by God, mum, stars and the moon,
The latest inhabitant of the village,
Who, encouraged by his mothers gentle nudge,
Wakes up and takes his first shaky, unsure steps
In the crisp, bright new morn.

SCOTTISH MAGIC

The early morning sun lazily climbs above the hills,
Instantaneously turning the hard, white, frost covered yet gently rolling landscape,
Into a magic carpet of sparkling, bedazzling jewels,
Creating a diamante encrusted dance floor, upon which tiny lambs,
Like drunken old men perform their first tentative, disjointed moves,
To the music of the dawn chorus,
Watched over by exhausted, yet contented mothers,
And the wonder filled eyes of the early walkers.

TOAST TO THE SETTING SUN

Water lapping,
Islay panting,
Eider ducks calling,
Islay stick crunching,
As she obsessively re- shapes the aerodynamics of yet another stick,
The lilting cuss of a Scottish, ”would be” fisherman,
From his improbably small fishing craft,
An unkempt hybrid tubtypeboat
With a worn out, rusted, long shaft Seagul 5 hp
Put, put,
Put, put, put,
……………………………………………..Put,
That stubbornly refuses to splutter into life,
As it disappears further and further across the bay,
My drifting thoughts brought abruptly back
By the clinking of ice as it buoyantly floats,
Suspended, in glass, in its tumbler shaped Golden pond,
Lifted up into the teeth of the freezing wind,
In an invitational salute to the amber, setting, sun over Loch Etive,
SLANGE !

Nice Marcel really nice lifted spirits so in thanks I offer:

Raise a Glass!

Slange, cheers, bottoms up! We wish you well and raise a cup
To your good health we drink
We wish you well as glasses clink.

For you we wish you wealth and luck
Continued happiness
Continued Worth
Continuing joy and mirth!

So raise your glass and drain it dry
Enjoy yourself as life goes by
Have no care and no regret
For there will be be more love yet.

Raise your drink and share a measure
Savour it at your leisure!
Join me now as I say have a ball every day.

BJS

Cheers,folks. Let's have a ball.
Just to help us-with very many apologies to Robert Burns:-

O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To treat oursels an' ithers like us
Wi sic a cure as surely 'd free us,
Frae lifetime fear!
Please open yer lugs an' listen tae us
An'help us there!

Dragons Breath

On darkling wings in velvet back soars one of Fenwick’s brood
Climbing soundless silent beats take him higher
Exhaling hot ash into the nightscape glowing motes descend

Thus the worm achieves it’s height
On high much is seen and the place is chosen for his rest
Circling now magnificent beast, Skin of Jade like scales
Reflect the darkness all around, armoured protected
Invincible and ageless he glides on thermal breezes.

Eyes of golden amber pierce souls and hearts
Gaping jaws reveal white daggers dripping in poison
Claws like knives of steel flash and glint as wheels and dives
Beauty and death present in the dragons breath.

Banished from skies of old, of the worms tales are told
Now a creature of myth saga’s old where do you fly?
Handsome and cruel beast thou art.

Dragons continue to stalk perpetual night
Not in the world are they found today
From the earth long cast out
Diminished but still in magical form

The reptilian strike force took our race by stealth
Their hunting skies in the plains of our minds and thoughts
The breath blows through synapses frying and electrifying
Burning the core of our beings, pain and majesty.

The light of it’s fire burns behind our eyes transmitted to aching limbs
Which jangle unwanted reactions from the worms embrace
Scales and talons scour our heads volcanic explosions in our souls
Beast that with vampiric desire leach our strength with fire

As the dread beast clings and tangles round our central core
Blood and pain flow rivers of ice and fire
Freezing body and soul burning turning out of control
St George we beckon to you slay the worm extinguish its life
Free us from it’s grasp and strife!

Sacrifices we have made to keep the creature bound
Alone we may not remain called to the slaughter are we.

Sorry folks - back to the P. A. school of poetry. It is not obligatory to read it.

I am lonesome tonight
Do you feel this way too
When it seems apart from you
The whole world is feeling alright?

Does your memory stray
Does your heart give a start
To those bright sunny days
Before we drifted apart?