LIZ RAGOUT.

LIZ

RAGOUT

THE CYCLE OF LIFE

The Cycle of life

is a mere span,

that is allocated to

to mortal man.

From a tiny infant

to the teenage form,

a responsible adult

is finally born.

All have their own

entrances and exits,

as the good bard says.

To use to our advantages,

In many diverse ways, it has

been so, since time began.

The universe holds the answers

to the fate of the eternal man.

LOVE AGAIN

The midnight sky was

spread like a field of stars,

lying on the edge of my mind.

and our favorite song played

silently, as you left me behind.

You slipped away quietly

from this earthly fold.

Went home to the ancestors

in their house of gold.

As the poets say.

When the dawn broke

I fought of sleep to watch

the clouds, like flocks of

sheep, amble leisurely on

the azure blue sky above.

And I thought of our love and

how you are now free from pain.

Then I heard your voice resonate and

my spirit responded to your refrain, as

you told me softly, I would find love again...

BLESSED RELEASE

1

The emerald green grass

felt wet beneath her tired feet.

The trees bent forwards

as if to weep.

The sky glowed red as

the Sun set low.

The floodgates opened

and her tears did flow.

2

Her soul cried out

for solace, for peace.

An end to the ceaseless

rhythmic beat of sorrow,

Which coursed thorough

her mind, since the

Terrible news of her

beloved Hugh's death.

3

A tiny robin came into view

chirping so sweetly she

Hardly knew she no longer cried.

she listened in wonder as he sang

His lullaby. Mary felt a sense

of relief, and the deep sorrow

Being released as she watched

Hugh's soul soar high.

MAGICAL MOUNTAINS...

Last night I dreamt I was back again

across the Irish sea, and all the folks

I knew in bygone days, were there to

meet with me.

The sights, the sounds of other days

the words of love then spoken,

caressed my Soul and made me bold

for liberties I'd taken

I rambled with my true love, back

up the lovely mountain trail.

While he whispered sweet nothings

that with me still prevail.

The purple mist was on the Mournes

these mountains I adore,

They rose to dominate the skyline

as back to London I was borne.

LIZ RAGOUT.

LIZ RAGOUT: Liz was born during WW2 in 1942 in Northern Ireland, as a teenager she contracted meningitis which damaged her ears and left her hard of hearing. Nevertheless, she worked in London for almost 50 years, in adult social services. Liz took up writing when she retired and is a published poet. She is a widow witch three grown up children one granddaughter and two great grandchildren. Liz lists some of her hobbies as psychology, gardening, music and literature. She likes travel and enjoys living in leafy green north London.