Belle, my southern Belle

 

the battle had been fought

smoke lay over the land

carried away by a slight breeze

silence was at last in reach

 

out of chaos we came together

riding horses we picked our way

through where the dead lay

reaching town at daybreak

 

this was our town, our land

people still had pride in them

they weren't broken nor bend

this was our town, our land

 

it was good to see Belle there

treating the wounded, taking care

as by chance she looked up to me

surprise in her eyes when she saw me

 

Belle and I go back a long way

know her from the olden days

she lived in the big house where

all her family stayed

 

allready then we felt this way

in the confusion we both drifted away

untill this day we met again realising

it was all very much the same

 

time we didn't have a lot of

her soft arms held me locked

locked to her throbbing heart

filled to the rim with love

 

it went on and on

untill we could give no more

resting to collect the strenght

the strenght to start over again

 

 

 

(c) JR.

Paradise

coming right from Paradise
not knowing what it was like
hearing a mortal soul wheep
being so desperately in need

I floated in on the wind
stretching my wings
a breeze in my face
I went down to investigate

met by untolerable grief
I whispered love put my
hand down on her she felt
relief

she was to be taken away
to where the pain would
fade away into eternal peace

so I took her up to the light
through an endless tunnel
waiting with a new life

(c) JR.

Engelse versie 'Meester Fluisteraar': 'Master Whisperer'

 

listen an'quiver 

hear the master in the wind, in that swift breeze

where he whispers about 'you an' I '  what 'you an' I  may not see

 

 

he

even whispers where a king resides in its corridors , in a chamberlain's chamber,

in a nobleman's' bed , in a kitchen's pots and pans or in the most sensitive ear of all

when a war lord comes to call

 

not only  a whisperer is he a listener his might rests upon all the global land

his whispers are ev'ry where and the spoils of war are his profit

written in the sand

 

 

listen an' quiver

if you know the master he protects whatever interests he has

might you confess a silenced whisper will remove the threat

from whatever confession you ever had

 

or

he whispers less and you will remain in his servitude might you flee

he will find you even in a hollow tree where again he will becxome

as the wind, a strong breeze, a gale if need

 

 

and
 wiithout remorse will deposite you under a fallen tree's dead leafs

or

leave you somewhere on a remote wasteland where nobody will ever believe

you're the residue

 

'The Master Whisperer'

 

leaves

 

 

(c)  JR.  2017