About Me
- Jim Archer Scribbler And...
- MADE IN CORK... EXPORTED TO LONDON,PARIS AND DUBLIN IT IS FROM THE CAPITAL OF IRELAND THAT I AM ADDRESSING THE WORLD - SO PAY ATTENTION. HERE YOU WILL FIND GOOD BANTER, STORIES, LIES AND MORE LIES.MAYBE YOU MIGHT LIKE MY SHORT STORIES, LETTERS, ARTICLES OR POEMS. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE TELL THE WORLD, IF NOT KEEP YOUR BLOODY MOUTH SHUT.
2011-06-08
2011-01-10
WHEN SWINGS ARE SILENT
Early morning God is scribbling children’s names
Across the sky
Glancing downwards He beams a warm smile
On the deserted playground
While children sleep he is warming up their little Paradise
No tempting apple trees here
For God is kinder to the young
Daffodils hide their faces
And snigger behind old trees
The wooden playground truck Black and Gold
Sparkles with expectancy
For its long journey to Timbuktu
And beyond
The slippery slide arches its silvery back
Snakelike
But in this Paradise
Innocence is beyond temptation
God – his mornings work done
His creation assured drops his smile
While the pensioner
From his lonely bench beside the playground
Glances upwards
And looks for his scribbled name
In the changing skyline
jim archer
Across the sky
Glancing downwards He beams a warm smile
On the deserted playground
While children sleep he is warming up their little Paradise
No tempting apple trees here
For God is kinder to the young
Daffodils hide their faces
And snigger behind old trees
The wooden playground truck Black and Gold
Sparkles with expectancy
For its long journey to Timbuktu
And beyond
The slippery slide arches its silvery back
Snakelike
But in this Paradise
Innocence is beyond temptation
God – his mornings work done
His creation assured drops his smile
While the pensioner
From his lonely bench beside the playground
Glances upwards
And looks for his scribbled name
In the changing skyline
jim archer
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