'Nelson’
They gave me a budgie,
a retard kind of gift…
He only had one eye,
feathers blue and smudgy…
I named my budgie ‘Nelson’,
he had a sort of air…
He hopped and chattered
around his cage as though
I were not there…
For six years he chattered on,
like some people do…
It was an ongoing relationship,
me and my budgie too…
Then came that fateful morning,
when I found him stiff and cold…
‘Nelson’, was not one for performing,
he was far from being a hit…
Although one task he excelled at,
that bird knew how to shit.
Kevin Bewley
At this moment opportune,
after your vacation.
Rolling back to this,
your Brigadoon.
Welcome friend,
to this your spot.
This stomping ground,
your Camelot.
Now refreshed and charged,
from the little Brown bears.
Snow building and dreams,
free of every day cares…
Kevin bewley
Fate and Faith
If fate and faith are kind,
the quietude of summer ours.
All else is left behind,
to wile away the hours…
For this will be our incline,
to furnish this, our bower.
If fate smiles graciously
on this our humble offering.
Then all the more congenially
and to proffer…
And all the more seemingly…
All the more to that infinity.
If faith could be tempted,
to wander from her path.
We two would be exempted,
from any threat of wrath.
No fears to be co tempted,
This time we give our withal.
Kevin Bewley
Blue Skies
Just a few lines to thank you,
and so often I forget.
I often need a talking to,
with you no cause for regret.
I must and should always thank you,
as times go flooding by.
Shared moments so very true,
moments that amplify…
I will and always say thank you,
for sharing your times with me…
Only you know who,
and this absurdity.
Thank you for stopping off,
it really is a treat.
I was really getting brassed off,
until you pulled up a seat.
Thanks a lot for being here,
golden moments for two.
After an all pervading atmosphere,
gray skies are showing azure blue…
Kevin Bewley
Rain!
I see the umbrellas in the rain,
reflections of the urban thoroughfare.
Like moving targets that move inane,
defiant and upright to oppose beating rain.
Umbrellas in different shades and hue,
fashion statements and some inane…
Turning twisting as they move all
aggressive to the pouring rain.
Arabesque movements by the crowd,
with the united front to fight the rain.
Some large, some small and very loud...
Each determined to out strip the crowd…
One umbrella closes…
Umbrellas close like flowering petals en masse,
The rain has halted – and stopped supposes…
Yet the rain returns to umbrellas reawakening,
down pours the deluge on the wet and nerve shaking!
Kevin Bewley
Termination
Softly silently seriously serene,
she sits alone pensive.
She sits very quietly lost in her dream.
Apprehensive and a little defensive,
all would not appear to be as seen.
Strive would she try to be inoffensive.
She is oh so lonely and terribly sad,
her pride it has left her…
She recalls him as being ‘a bit of a lad’.
Time is now, and softened the blur.
She sits alone, in loneliness clad
she recalls the vapid promises made to her…
While fumbling her fingers,
eyes cast downwards to the floor.
She feels as though to malinger
this first ever visit to the clinic.
Her name is called, she leaves her seat.
She reemerges later, the terminated cynic…
Kevin Bewley
