Jeanette
By Lila Broadhurst
She was such a mixture of things; Of lightness, and brightness, And butterflies wings.
She was an innocent - Not worldly wise; With bright bits of heaven A-dance in her eyes.
Her voice bubbled over With such 'joie de vivre'; And her laughter was Oh so infectious and free.
But the World was too worldly For her tender heart; And she was too fragile For her earthly part.
And thus, to our everlasting regret; Flew away our sweet butterfly - Our lovely Jeanette.
Last Vision
By Lila Broadhurst
The old man bows his tired white head And closes heavy eyes, Folds the work-worn vein laced hands, And breaths his heavy sighs.
And visions past, fly to the mast Of his bright ship of youth; And strengths he'd half forgot, grew fast, Of resurrected truth.
He felt the blood course through his veins, Excitement clasp his hand, 'Twas if the world was born again, - Nor stopped to understand.
The wild bright meadows of his past Stirred in the summer breeze; The sparkling sun, the river cast, Like diamonds 'neath the trees.
Such pictures filled his heart and eyes - He smiled, and clasp sweet paradise.
My Brother
By Lila Broardhurst
Dear brother, you will never know The pain that stung my heart that day; When excitedly you sang to me, That you would be going away.
Not just a little way away, But o'er an ocean, deep and wide; I felt that I'd choke o'er the lump in my throat; And something deep within me died.
I thought of your peal of laughter, That I might hear no more; And that twinkle in those roguish eyes - Of which I was never sure.
Of your talk that was spiced with the hint of a tease; And that proud swift toss of your head, That married up to the proudness in me - A trait we inherited.
With all my heart I wished you well On that sad parting day; But a part of me went o'er that sea - And will stay with you always.
Pitstrike
By Lila broadhurst
The headstocks stand black and gaunt against the sky, The great spoked wheels are motionless; The grimy yard in eerie silence lies, And over all, a deathly kind of hush.
Where now the clatter of boots upon these places? Where now the chatter, laughs and hoots from blackened faces?
Like corpses stretched in lengthy line, Trucks cast their hollow eyes; Iron skeletons in time Towards the chilly skies.
The ghostly buildings idly lie In tense, uneasy sleep - With but one open yellow eye A vigilance to keep.
Stay, sleepy giant, I'll not intrude Upon your ghostly interlude.
On a Precinct Seat
Lila Broadhurst
Just look at the state o' that yewth Tom, A young chap in 'is prime; Nowt but tattoos 'n' ear rings - I'd thrash 'im if 'e w' mine.
An' wots that blue on 'is 'ead Tom? Go on - it's never 'is 'air; An' britches all ripped t'smithereens - Well int 'e a bod I declare!
They want some wok t'do Jack, That's wot they're lackin' t'day Summat t'mek men on 'em - A bit o' wot we ed eh?
Ay-up 'ere comes 'is lass Tom, Legs up to 'er chest; An' sithee, she's mens bewts on - An' is that a frock or a vest?
Well I'll tell thi summat f' nowt Jack, I don't care wot tha say; I'd sooner 'ave t' owd times back - Tha can keep thi modern day.
The Secret
by Lila Broadhurst
My dearest friend, that you should hold So close, so bitter an agony; For fear your secret, being told, Might break the bond twixt you and me.
Look at me, lift, lift your eyes, It breaks my heart to see your tears; Do you think but an error could jeopardise The friendship we've cherished through all these years?
Dear one, I love you even more, For your sorrow fans my heart to share The burden, that has to your core Racked you to such black despair.
We are all of us human, every one; And we all of us make mistakes - But to pick up the pieces and try to go on Takes a courage, that worthier man makes.
Come, take my hand my cherished friend, Lest my own heart you would break; And the ghost that has haunted you, blackest fiend - Bury him deep, for my sake.
Somewhere
by Lila Broadhurst
Somewhere under this bright night sky, you are; What are your own thoughts now I wonder - Or are you wrapped in those mystic dreams That come with slumber?
Or are you restless, awake like I, Perhaps too, gazing at this bright sky, And reminiscent on times gone by?
When wrapped in the magic of youths desires, Eyes full of longing fanned passions fires, And the night air was sensuous, laden with scent, As flowers to the breezes for kisses bent.
Oh the floodgates of memory are standing wide, And a tune, an evening, a passion are blended, And treasures of hearts crash in with the tide; Ghosts of yesteryear, long since ended.
Dear heart, sweetheart, where ere you are now, I know my arms cannot reach you, Nor can our lips touch, delighting at such, Nor with soft words can I greet you.
Yet, in some curious way, 'neath this sky' I feel that our hearts in spirit have met; And a strange content is assuring that I In time will cease hurting, and simply forget.
The Mother Ship
by Lila Broadhurst
Inside of me are a thousand me's, And each one struggling to be free; To break from this multi dimensional soul With the speed of light , in pursuit of their goal.
To break away from the womb and go
In search of the sun; to expand and grow.
To achieve by a spirit that's captured by will,
To rise, to expand to the ultimate thrill.
And then, every bright dream realized, To look back to the womb with shinning eyes. And every joy thence harvested, To wing back to the Mother ship once fled.
Ere Winter spreads her cruel rime, To spoil the glad days of our prime. Thence a thousand dreams o'er told will last, To warm the heart through winter blast.
And safe within the Mother ship craft, Her fold, all gathered to the last; A sweet content shall gild my soul And whisper - "but I knew the goal".
Travellers Return
by Lila Broadhurst
This is an England new to me, The lady I left is changed; 'Though my captured heart through her, could ne'er be free; Yet faithfully returned, 'tis now estranged.
For venturing in those unfamiliar climes, Oft' times my heart desired them to embrace And honour them, and cling to them as mine; Yet could not still the haunting England face.
But I left her in a golden morn. A smiling maid in silken dyes; The flush of innocence her cheeks wore; And 'twas gentleness in her sunny eyes.
I have been o'er long in my wanderings, Forgetting that time decays; And the pretty maid in her silken things, Now wears the rags of more worldly ways.
What War Is
by Lila Broadhurst
It's the bewildered eyes of orphaned babes; It's the last crushing blow to finish old age; It's madness, it's sadness, it's all mirth in chains; It's hunger, it's cold, it's a lacking of brains.
It's a loathing of charity, Born out of vanity, Borders insanity, Wrecks all humanity.
It's a lusting of power for a glorious hour, It's an apple of greed, and a hating of creed; It's rivers of tears, and rivers of blood, It's loved ones laid low, and covered in mud.
It's a hating of man, and a sin against God; It's a joy to the Devil, and a waste of the sod, It's parading of colours, a call 'to the ranks', It's a winding sheet bought by the Powers 'with thanks'.
It never can win, and it never achieves; And the proof lies within the history books leaves.