John McKay Withey

  • 1319
Scottish of mixed race.
http://idev.bookingline.bucksnet.co.uk//idevaffiliate.php?id=107355
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Yesterday passed in the blink of an eye,
No time to reminisce without a sigh,
Life it passes with such haste,
Never allowing us a minute to waste.

Today arrived like any other,
Remember to tell your darling mother,
That her love sustained you through the years,
Through much fun and heart felt tears.

Tomorrow brings promises anew,
What it holds, we haven't a clue.
Will it be better, or worse than today,
What inner instinct shall we betray?

Within a week or month or year,
Little changes start to appear.
But come what may, take control,
Time waits for no one, set your goal.

John McKay Withey  2009

, , #life, , #love, , , , , , #today, , #years

When first I saw your lovely face,
Your sparkling eyes and easy grace,
I had a feeling you were sent with love,
By someone special from above.

With patience you waited 'til I came along,
Confidant that with me, you did belong.
My Heavenly guide had made a choice,
Over oceans I raced, just to hear your voice.

Entranced and delighted with my special one,
Your warmth and vitality, glowed like the sun.
Petite and demure, fragile yet strong,
Are you the one with whom I belong.

With feelings high, the unknown we test,
Expectations soaring, are you the end of my quest?
Reactions and chemistry,our future will seal,
Customs and culture, add to your appeal.

John McKay Withey  2009

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Soft sparkling eyes below curly hair,
Your friendly smile laid my feelings bare.
Graceful fingers, to keep in place,
Ebony tresses from hiding your face.

Rings removed, you broke the bond,
To his pleas you won't respond.
You lived a life, lonely and alone,
Turning your feelings cold as stone.

No tiny hands to explore your face,
No tiny head to cover with lace.
Never blessed with a child of your own,
Made you feel, ever more alone.

Your proudest friend loves to go for walks,
Just a pity she never talks.
She'll offer a paw, when she knows you're down,
And look into your eyes untill you lose your frown.

A sense of freedom you feel at last,
Making up time for your boring past.
New friends and friendships now fill your time,
The life you missed, was a crime.

Pretty lady, still in your prime,
You have the time, to right the crime,
That stole your love over lonely years,
Years that were filled with sadness and tears.

John McKay Withey (c) 2009

, , , , #hair, #life, , #love, , , , , #years

Never weep when you think of me,
Just remember me upon your knee.
I am happy to watch over you,
When you're never far from view.

I tried to stay a little longer,
But the pain, it grew so much stronger.
So to sleep I had to go,
To watch the stars all aglow.

My short life was always full,
I loved you, Daddy, Mummy and school.
Just think of me as your little jewel,
And never of how life is cruel.

I sparkle now as I always did,
I'm still your boisterous, loving kid.
I'm over here or over there,
Look around, even under the stair.

I hid some notes for you to find,
All with drawings and unsigned.
With three little words, you know are true,
Over and over - I love you.

John McKay Withey (c) 2009 

, , , , , , , , , #remember, #short, #still, #think, #words

Set your goals to let you believe,
That your dreams you will achieve.
Through disappointment, trial and pain,
Sacrifice and belief will not be in vain.

You don't need wealth or unusual skills,
No silver spoon or black gold drills.
Just set your heart in what you believe,
You'll be amazed at what you can achieve.

In the beginning there is no light,
No guidance to determine wrong from right.
But through instinct and inner belief,
The slightest progress brings greatest relief.

After much heartache and tears of despair,
An opportunity will out at you stare.
All is well, you are back on track,
Now reset your next plan of attack.

The doubt has gone, success is in sight,
After much frustration you've won the fight,
To realise the dream in which you believed,
The goals you set have been achieved.

(c) John McKay Withey 2009

, , , , , , , #pain, , #tears, , #wrong

Hidden secrets kept close to our hearts,
With no intention of unlocking the parts,
Our deepest feelings quietly hide,
Ensuring nothing hurts our shallow pride.

Lives can be shaped by an innocent mistake,
Dormant instincts we have to awake,
To survive the traumas life can arouse,
Healed as quickly as circumstance allows.

Fate, it deals unkindly hands,
Ever changing, like the desert sands.
No control have we of destiny's call,
The actions taken, we can't recall.

Inexperience, ignorance or misplaced trust,
Solutions, conclusions, woefully unjust,
Leave legacies difficult to comprehend,
With situations and results we can't amend.

Secrets must be released to unload the pain,
For our confidence and trust to quietly regain,
Emotional stability we need so much,
Allowing our feelings a healing crutch.

(c) John McKay Withey 2009

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Telephone sounds, adrenalin rush,
Eyes staring, deathly hush.
Flying kit donned, await command,
Danger in the sky, safety on land.

Time after time this roll was enacted,
From their sacrifice, they were never distracted.
Young men with a long life ahead,
To their deaths, often they sped.

Into the blue, disappearing from sight,
To face the enemy in all their might.
Would their mission be one of success,
Or cause them years of pain-filled distress.

Over enemy territory they flew their craft,
Shrapnel shells from above and abaft.
No time to think but to react without pause,
They were proud to fly bravely, just for the cause.

Many were veterans of war, but novices in life,
Surviving intact, to face emotional strife.
But for those who paid the ultimate price,
Victory was gained through brave sacrifice.
 
(c) John McKay Withey

, , #men, , , , , , ,

Rough, unpolished, vigorous jewel,
Over stars and celebrities she did rule.
Presidents and royals came to tea,
The ultimate socialite was she.

From humble beginnings she set her goal,
Compassion and understanding were in her soul.
Advertising and journalism were her chosen career,
An accomplished artist, the rose held dear.

Biographies of Dali and Peron she penned,
Presidents and royalty could depend,
On this socialite with intelligence and drive,
To ensure any situation would succeed or revive.

She had Menuhin entertain in a barn,
Cary Grant bent her ear with an actor's yarn.
The Shah of Persia, companion to hunt boar,
Winston Churchill met her at Chartwell's door.

Her love of life was infectious to behold,
An iron will and optimism were in her mould.
For making instant friends she had a flair,
Fleur, the socialite, extraordinaire.
(c) John McKay Withey

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Your soft brown eyes said so much,
Your understanding nature had a human touch.
When pleading to be taken for your favourite walk,
You begged, barked, did everything except talk.

You were my best friend without a doubt,
There was no need to scream or shout,
Your telepathy was quite astounding,
Your intelligence quite resounding.

When feeling low and walks were out,
You sensed my pain without a doubt.
You gave a kiss and offered a paw,
As you snuggled closely to my jaw.

In winter cold and summer heat,
You were never far from my feet.
You loved to swim or run with glee,
Happiest when sniffing around a tree.

Eventually as you older grew,
Our walks became short and few.
Your soft brown eyes shine no more,
Your bed lies empty on the floor.

(c) John McKay Withey

, , , , , , #pain, , ,

You were conceived in a moment of lust,
But in your father she had no trust.
Her mind a daze, her heart in pain,
The decision to make, drove her insane.

She loved him deeply but was very unsure,
If their relationship would endure.
He hurt her often in different ways,
Would he leave her again, with you to raise?

As the days wore on and you bigger grew,
Of what had happened, she began to rue.
Her arms they longed to tenderly hold you,
But her head envisaged problems anew.

Your big sister never knew,
Although she would delight in a sister new.
So hiding the bulge as you steadily grew,
She began to make plans of what to do.

All the signs were there to see,
And friends agreed to disagree.
What was right and what was wrong,
Was she weak or was she strong?

So little darling you had no choice,
No one was allowed to hear your voice.
You were taken away on a bright sunny day,
But the feeling you left never goes away.



, , , , #hurt, , , , , , #pain, #right, #trust, #would, #wrong

Springtime arrives with flowers anew,
Iris and daffodil appear on cue.
The lark and cuckoo with calls so clear,
Remind us again it's that time of year.

Summer's sun ripens the grain,
Well watered after the springtime rain.
Flowers and plants of every hue,
Provide a stunning, colourful view.

Autumn's harvest at its best,
The soil can take its annual rest.
The wilting flower drops its head,
As the leaves from trees begin to shed.

In winter's chilly, icy blast
A snowy blanket it has cast.
Wild life snug in burrow or nest,
Await the spring in its warming best.

(c) John McKay Withey 2009

, , ,

A gentle touch says so much,
When comforting a lover whose loss is such,
No words can ease their deepest sorrow,
No comfort in words about tomorrow.

Our lover's voice we adore to hear,
As kindness and love, we know are near.
Warmth and praise we sense in their tone,
A lover by your side, your never alone.

To savour the flavour of a lover's lips,
To drink from the glass your lover sips,
Makes our taste buds acutely aware
Of the sensual pleasure we love to share.

The fragrance that your lover wears,
Portrays an empathy that each shares,
In the excitement of a favourite smell,
That joyfully the other knows so well.

The adoring look from your lover's eyes,
Signals it's you that they idolise.
With hearing, tasting, smell and touch,
All five senses tell so much.

(c) John McKay Withey 2009

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