T. Modern

I'll never understand modern art,

With its blank canvases and squares,

A piece of wood dangled from the ceiling,

Or just a row of metal chairs.

People pay millions of pounds,

For something that could be a childs drawing,

To them it must seem brilliant,

It can't just be me that thinks it's boring.

I saw a man spend five minutes looking at a shelf,

Probably figuring out for how much it would sell,

Was it even supposed to be a display?

Looking around the room, who could even tell?

When did art become so boring?

Where has the artistic imagination gone?

No real talent needed no more,

Just splash some paint on a door and call it 'Death of John.'

If this is what they mean by modern art,

Then I'm proud to be retro in every way,

No blocks of wood or half chairs for me,

I'd much rather fill my space with a Degas or Monet.

Saviour

When I nearly faltered You took my hand and led me away,

When temptations became strong and my will was weak,

You reminded me of how far I had come.

If it wasn't for You I would have slided back into the abyss,

It is nice to know that You are still there.

You didn't just help me up and then leave me to dangle there alone,

Yours are the hands that hold me up high.

I never have to worry about falling because Your grip on me is strong,

And I know that You will never let me fall.

When times get tough and old temptations rear their ugly heads,

You are always there to take me by the hand,

My guiding light to lead me through the darkness.

You gave Your life so that I never have to be alone,

Even in the blackest night the darkness never overwhelms me,

I am never afraid because I know that You are never far away.

My Saviour and my Friend.

Bird Lady

A figure in black,

Upon stony ground,

Sitting still and alone,

As the birds fly round.

Just a lonely figure,

On the middle of the beach,

With the birds all around her,

The food just out of reach.

She reaches for the sky,

The birds follow her lead,

As the food hits the ground,

They dive down and feed.

The Mighty Swan.

Quack, quack, quack,

Is the same in any language,

As the humble Duck,

Lives side by side with the mighty Swan.

The sun reflects off the lake,

But the waters ripple on,

With the graceful swim of a thousand feathered friends,

But none more so than the Swan.

As the crumbs fly from tiny hands,

The hungry masses come flying in,

In a scene that would make even Hitchcock proud,

There is none more mighty than the Swan.

In brown waters under a field of green,

Beautiful feathers never lose their shine,

Among the greens, the blues, yellows and the reds,

There is nothing so bright as the beautifully white Swan.

A thousand wings flap across the lake,

Stirring up the water as they go,

Even the tiniest of Ducks puts up a good show,

But nothing splashes quite like the mighty wings of the Swan.

The most graceful of birds,

Knows where they belong,

The Lion might be King of the Jungle,

But the Swan is Queen of the Lake.