that I entered to visit a friend.

Never keen to go into these sorts of places

to many sick people about.

On crutches in wheelchairs or walking around

reception I soon found.

Given directions to the ward on the fifth floor

taking the crowded lift.

He had a stroke yesterday it was a shock

being only forty-four.

Arriving at the right level it was a maze

of rooms I was in a daze.

Until I asked a nurse which sign I had to follow

pointing me to the location.

Here you really needed your own personal guide

finding him I went to go in.

Sitting in a big chair his appearance was not bad

by him another patient looking sad!

Certainly with a sombre and sallow complexion

left them to chat I went for a coffee.

Getting back this time he was there 1`alone

he was pleased to see me.

Said I’d seen him talking not wanting to interfere

but Jim said nobody was near!

I gave a rough description the best that I could

he gave me an odd glance.

That poor bloke you described passed away

on this very bed yesterday!

For a few moments lost for words at what he said

seeing a ghost was I going off my head?

The Foureyed Poet.

a building for the people.

Yet now it’s been neglected by the council

there in that prominent position.

Time and weather has not been a friend

as many wish for its end!

The council did not want the listed building

letting it become a wreck!

Repairing and upgrading others around

urgent repairs had to be done.

The owners who bought it for only pound

just couldn’t be found.

Boarded up and classed as still very unsafe

even with grade two listing.

Yet it totters on the edge of its destruction

oppressive when you stare.

The building for years has not been used

watching it being abused!

Discarded this was the communities centre

that should be preserved.

Give that splendour back to this town’s core

a focal point to create a roar!

The Foureyed Poet.

from the platform saw the train go.

As it disappeared into the railway tunnel

on the down line to the city.

No sound except for a rising bitter wind

to be on it my hopes were pinned.

Not prone to be scared but uncomfortable

every noise put me on alert!

It was an unmanned station and I was alone

with no cell phone signal.

Unable to tell a soul that I’d missed the train

as it started to pour with rain.

The external lamps began to swing with force

creating many darting shadows!

I could hear footsteps on the empty platform

then realised I was pacing.

As that dread of the unknown within grew

stuck until the next train was due!

At this point I was sure somebody was nearby

an outline of a figure was clear!

But it was nothing just a swinging door

to the waiting room I went in.

Inside closing it shut light here was poor

paper blown in on the floor.

I started talking aloud then saw in the corner

a small girl and I guessed her mother!

Who I hadn’t noticed when I entered the room

taken by surprise I said ‘Hello’.

The lady smiled and spoke quietly back

yet emotion her voice did lack!

They seemed nice and we chatted for a while

their clothes looked an odd style!

Eventually fell asleep when I woke they’d gone

it was daylight outside.

The clock on the wall read six and was very cold

onto the platform I strolled.

I consciously glanced for the two I met in the night

but they were not in sight!

At that moment my thoughts were on leaving

as the early train came in!

Nobody else got on board that I could relay

only later did I replay!

Shuddering at the implication they weren’t real

ghosts the image didn’t appeal!

Looking as solid as me having a conversation

thinking this once I’d left.

Though now I shall never really find out

always having a nagging doubt!

What did I experience that cold winter’s night?

The Foureyed Poet.

something had drawn me to stop!

An irresistible urge to go inside the property

having to bang on the red door.

Waiting unable to move from that spot

on that nice day I was cold not hot!

I tried to move how I wanted to just run

but my body wouldn’t move!

The screams were trapped in my throat

why was I frozen here?

Shuffling noises from within approached

as my space was encroached!

I could now hardly breath as the door opened

a wrinkled old women stared.

With deep black sunken eyes that glared

that pierced your very soul!

As my body was drawn into the room

nearby was a witches broom.

Then it turned into a grim putrid hovel

as other witches appeared!

I lost consciousness at that very moment

waking up on a lino floor

A middle-aged lady staring down at me

as I looked up embarrassingly.

Helping me to a comfortable armchair

she told me I was not the first.

Who had been drawn to her front door

on this spot once it was said.

An evil witches coven had been found

but was burnt to the ground!

Seven witches were caught and put on trial

by the frightened villagers!

And here where the place now stands

they were burnt at the stake!

Saying they cursed the villagers evermore

descendents would knock the door.

As they alone would detect the witches call

realising I was caught here!

My mum gave me a locket I had to wear

said never to take it off.

Unless I was compelled into a dwelling

and this story a lady telling!

Only then should I open the hinged locket

that contained the ashes.

Of the seven that died throw them in its face

then run and not look back!

I did as I was told running until I was tired

so long ago I’m now retired.

It was a big story in that town I use to live

a mystery fire had caused.

The destruction of the historical cottage

it was never solved.

But I gather there was no more trouble

but a locket was found in the rubble!

The Foureyed Poet.

caged in like an animal.

Diagnosed with a mental disorder

sectioned and put in here!

I had heard those voices in my head

they were from the dead!

Always knowing that I could be a medium

having messages relayed!

But doctors had always said I was ill

nobody listened to me!

This was a gift since I was a child

not suddenly becoming wild!

Dismissed this notion ignoring my plea’s

psychiatrist’s made the decision.

Drugged and humiliated in a hospital

here I lay on the bed!

How to show the diagnosis was false

get out of this therapy course!

Surely friends and comrades may put it right

prove it was a bad panic attack!

How could they mistake my gift for an illness

it took days to understand!

That what I had been telling them was true

the spirits guided me through!

In this world there is much we don’t understand

have an open mind and outstretched hand!

The Foureyed Poet.

sitting and interacting.

As for myself as usual on my own

the way it’s meant to be.

Over so long I’ve grown to accept

more years of regret.

Then I had hope and many dreams

that never came true.

Easy to be bitter but what’s the point

am I as much to blame?

Nothing can be altered its my history

life I’ve found is a mystery.

I have children and grandchildren that’s great

why was I ever born?

This thought I often mull over when low

but can’t dwell for long.

What I’ve done is not all gloom and bad

aren’t we all happy or sad?

So as I’m very often to be found alone

reflection is part of living.

Watching couples out makes me think

did I honestly miss out?

Lovers or even those with companionship

life still is a challenging trip!

I stare at others as I remember when it was me

now I sip a lonely cup of tea!

The Foureyed Poet.

a rousing reflection of Michael’s life.

Building the energy into a rousing musical pitch

an interaction between audience and cast.

Drawing each to enhance a memorable night

as inhibitions took flight.

Within the history filled and stunning Lyric theatre

everybody was drawn into the story.

Songs and dances performed in respectful reflection

giving us the insight of the loss.

Through a passion and splendour giving us chills

everyone there feeling the thrills.

A real zestful show bringing a legend back to life

in all our hearts and minds.

The Foureyed Poet.

the works then dominated our lives.

Covering so much land under the bridges

most of the jobs were within.

In those days the hooter was our alarm clock

bringing them to work in a flock

Three hooter blasts echoed over the wide area

we all relied on that sound.

Part of our lives to us a unique local feature

on the third hooter you were late.

in the works most had a relation past or present

at home time avoiding the bikes was an event.

The hooter was silenced when it was closed down

sights and sounds changed there after.

New Swindon was built specifically for the railway

greatly missed since it went away!

The Foureyed Poet.

as the heavy gates closed.

Bells rang and lights flashed on and off

she sat waiting to get home.

In the distance down the single track

it passed a rail side shack!

Anxiously thinking why such a long wait

then Annie felt the vibrations!

Her daughter Ella cried in her car seat

as a dark shape approached!

Speeding by them like an old express train

screaming was hard to refrain!

Ella was silent they were both mesmerised

the barriers stayed down!

Then the scheduled train trundled through

what had they just seen?

Barriers now rose how glad to move on

in her mind the image strong!

Annie was certain what they had seen was a ghost train

determined to find out more and come again!

The Foureyed Poet.

when an od message appeared.

Telling her to get home right away

she intended to ignore.

Another then flagged upon the screen

you’d better go now Pauline!

How did they know her name she thought

being caught off guard.

There was no number it was unsettling

feeling compelled to go!

knowing her partner was on his own

now out of her comfort zone.

Hurrying to get to the bus becoming scared

what was happening here?

The short ride home seemed to be endless

another text came through.

Just as the bus stopped outside the flat

in her way walked a black cat!

Running fast now entering the hallway

calling out to her boyfriend.

She heard the television in the lounge

her chest feeling tight.

Uncertain of what she might discover

where was her lover!

Bursting into the lounge it was a wreck

it had been vandalised.

But her man was nowhere to be seen

searching the whole place!

Standing in amongst the chaotic mess.

here was raw nastiness!

The screen lit up again the text stark

your too late to help him!

Turmoil in her head what was going on

from the corner of her eye.

A shadow seemed to quickly dart by

she heard a deep sigh!

Feeling engulfed the shadow absorbed the girl

and she was no more!

On the floor the mobile laid on the carpet

anther message on the screen.

It  lit up and just in a few words read

“your destiny met your dead!”

The Foureyed Poet.