Childhood

I had a childhood strong and fair
Not a care,
Golden hair.
Summers were long and warm
With laughter and adventure,
You were there.

Then came independence
And with it, choice
A loud voice
Silent yearnings strangled by curious cravings
Precious flowers picked and discarded
Unpardonable sins
Left un-reprimanded.

Subtly suffering asserted itself
Days turned on their head
Self image dead
No rest in bed

I had a childhood strong and fair
Not a care
Golden hair,
I turn now to look
But you're not there.

Joe Morriss
2005

Through the open window

The airplane drones sleepily overhead, and
With it you awake to the day.
Through the open window
Morning breathes her first breath
Silver brightness tinged with golden ray

See them playing in the garden
Hear their happy laughter as they pass
The same endless day, 
Year after year
When the lark sings
And you walk through the long meadow grass.

Moments like these are like a window
You can almost see through it to times gone by
Back to every summer you remember
Childhood at it's zenith
And framed in the window
The bright blue sky.

Joe Morriss

24th May 2010

Milestones

Everybody has to start somewhere
At birth
The beginning of everything
Thrust out of the nest
Into this world's mess
Left helpless and begging.

Then comes the growing
Perpetual state of watching and learning
Each new skill and quest
Enjoyed and put to the test
But still a sense of longing and yearning

Long days spent simply living
Age brings change and with it decaying
Nothing new now but labour and task
Every day the same as the last
has anyone been listening to what you've been saying?

But what of the other journey?
The one that starts in crisis
The unfamiliar turning
No longer at the mercy of our own devices.

The young man following his dream
Is as wise as the oldest sage
In that moment of stepping out
A shining star at the dawn of his age

The eyes of the heart are opened
The way ahead is clear
He travels surefooted and unhindered
And free from all that clinging fear

What is a moment of selfless giving
If not the real beginning?
The kindled spark of inspiration
Like a leap of joy at the sound of singing

All that remains is to stay the course
Each step marked by a firm decision
A sacrifice of what could have been yours
Moves you onward toward the vision

And so like milestones along the way
Marking the way to the journey's goal
A choice is made day after day
To follow the new and forget the old.

Joe Morriss

31st July 2010  

Sunrise

Here I stand

Alone

save for the sentinel star

A silent witness of the breaking day

And of the receding of the dark.

The city is marked by twinkling lights

In the valley neath its shroud

With orange beads scattered across the remaining night

It rests and waits without a sound

Pale light creeps slowly over the horizon

And the fields turn from grey to green

The Lark is the first to call

As standing horses stir in their quiet stall

A gentle breeze blows fresh and true 

Wisps of white 'cross the virgin blue

Wafting scent of clammy crops 

As trees awake  with rustling tops,  shake off the morning dew . 

A blush of cockle-pink and yellow mixed

Shows above a band of dark damson

Dappled with grey

Scattered islands lonely drift on tepid sky

As if in an ocean far away

All is white light now

And a rush of birdsong announces the dawn

I turn to the East

As the day is gently born

Gathered and grey

Then suddenly lit from below

The expectant womb of cloud catches fire

As a blazing embryo emerges to climb higher

Then the sun swiftly shows his head

Rippling with molten gold

Rises through a furnace of cherry red

And with newborn zeal 

Takes his hold

All nature now takes its true colour

By the light of this bright child

Risen in splendour like a golden mirror

He spreads his crown over the exultant sky

These joys are mine eternal

A new day has begun

My faith has been rewarded

By the rising of the sun.

Joe Morriss

July 2010