Category Archives: celebrations

BLUE SKY THINKING….

On a random sunny afternoon, sometimes thoughts, ideas, musings from the past, present and future merge as you look skyward. The deepest blue sky and potent yellowy sun start to speak to you in rhyme. So you close your eyes and respo9nd in kind…maybe with something like this…

Sitting in the afternoon sun

I breathe deeply with heat on my back

Not a cloud my eyes can see

My pet dog lies strewn with comfort


The trees sway this way and that

Their shadow cast spookily across my lawn

A small insect escapes the blades

As I watch it struggling to find a path


To dream as I do

It only happens when the sky is eternally blue

A cool breeze refuses to share it’s energy

And supply me, my dog with sufficient air


To feel my dreams develop beyond

An horizon that is impossible to view

How the mind works to supply hope

To those who dare to dream

When sky becomes eternally blue

Radiating heat from the sun

Splatters on my face

On my back on my neck

It’s the suns way of a loving embrace


Yes I dream still of nothing

Into the eternal blue yonder

To find no answers as such

Light years from perdition

I hope and can only wonder


Enjoying the reflective glare

Squinting with delight not derision

My blue sky that is above me;

Could it mean I’m looking;

Directly into the heavens?


A star; yes the celestial being

A yellow ball of sublime heat

And perfunctory light

I sit here to worship your power

With every bone and sinew


The blue sky motivates the thinker

Metastasises the brain like an engine

Churns thoughts, hopes, the unseen shadow

Eyes open wide now as the truth

Waits for you unbidden

When Final Whistle Blows

When the final whistle blows

How will you feel?

Has Kane and Sterling boosted our mood

Will Pickford protect our goal like a shield?

When the final whistle blows

Can Kalvin and Rice protect us?

Or will Stones and Maguire safeguard our back

Or should we ‘Jose’ and park the bus…

When the final whistle blows

We can rely on climbing the ‘Mount’

We see Reece James fly down the wing

Leaving the ‘Italian Job’ with money to count

When the final whistle blows

The young Bellingham and Sancho arrive;

Speed and skill intertwine

Our ‘young bloods’ are start to thrive

When the final whistle blows

Saka and Grealish move at pace;

Let’s trouble the Italian old guard

And give them something else to face

When the final whistle blows

Foden and Rashford add more to the mix;

Left or right makes no odds

A problem we hope the Italians can’t fix

When the final whistle blows

Walker and Mings sit tight;

Calmness plus speed suits us fine

In any match, any day or any night

When the final whistle blows

We hope to be ‘tripping’ the light fantastic;

At any moment you may not be Shaw

Fingers crossed we won’t need anything too drastic

When the final whistle blows

Where will you all be?

It could be heaven or in some hell of a place

We’ll all have to wait and see

When the final whistle blows

55 years is a long time to ‘roam’

I just hope and pray; with a nod and a wink

Gareth; will bring our football home…

The Bond Poetic Vol 3. Returns in: ” The Finger of Gold “

The third Bond Film still ranks in the memory for several reasons. The gold painted lady, the ‘ejector seat’ stunt and ‘that Jag’, then Bond on the table coming perilously close to becoming a soprano and not living to ‘sing that particular tale’.

At Christmas approaches I’m sure we’ll see the usual catalogue of Bond movies to remind how the whole ‘spy movie’ thing got started and seems here to stay.

It was now 1964

The world no longer on hold

007 faces a nemesis once more

A man hypnotised by Gold

—–

Into the fray Bond tracks his man

They know him  as ‘Goldfinger’

The DB5 speeds through Switzerland

No time to slow down, or to linger

——

Smuggling himself into that life

The Golf course is the venue

Odd Job ensures there is no strife

Then removes a head, that cannot be renewed

—–

A crafty plan is set in motion

Is Pussy Galore the key?

Bond has other ideas with her devotion

To change her mind to switch teams?

—–

Bond is caught in the lion’s den

The criminal fraternity are shrouded in smoke 

Goldfinger’s plan is not an ‘if’, but ‘when’

The men in that room perished by the choke

——

Strapped to a table about five feet high

Bond utters his final convincing words

Goldfinger responds ‘You’re supposed to die’

Bond’s luck is in; as his pitch is heard 

—–

But Galore’s planes are now in the air

Poisonous gases ready to deploy

A change of heart the soldiers it did spare

Denying Goldfinger his moment to enjoy

—–

With a plan B, Goldfinger changes tack

Leave Bond trapped with his Korean brick

Bond gives him a shock when he attacks

A sizzling finale did just the trick

—–

Leiter thinks the job is done

Auric has other schemes and ways 

On Galore’s plane Auric saw the sun

And that was the end of Goldfinger’s days…

Company of Fools & Poems for the Festive Season (helping you get ready for Christmas)

For two great presents that will give you some welcomed light relief in these dark times here are two choices for your loved ones Christmas stocking!

For a more visual view of the Comedy Drama (with romance attached) Company of Fools is available on Amazon.com/Amazon.co.uk plus another 10 countries in E-book and Paperback see the link below for the trailer & to purchase a copy…(I welcome any/all reviews/feedback)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClBkYK8VLns4BU0Dud0_fMA

Get ready for Christmas – I hope this will get you in the mood… go here to order your copy:

Again any feedback /reviews welcomed…thanks J W Nelson

One Page Novels by – J.W. Nelson Volume 1

       train-1635038_1280    The Dream Journey by Train

Samuel Peterson, a frantic, stubborn man, leapt forward in huge strides, as he targeted the 1615 from St. Pancras station. The tannoyed voice ricocheted violently across the air, entering Peterson’s ears presumptuously. A female, high pitched tone droned on about the train he was about to catch, so he hoped. His legs moved swiftly now, like a greyhound chasing that ever moving plastic rabbit.

Sweating profusely, panting heavily, his 13 stone out of shape body, lumbered towards the train, sitting noisily on platform 3.  Entering the cabin, exhaling for moment to draw breath, Peterson scanned the seats from his bespectled view.  Cabin H, first class, yes that’s the one, seat number 13a. Fourteen pair of eyes drilled his. His stature. His demeanour. Decisions about Samuel permeated their minds. A tall, scruffy looking, male with no discernible instant appearance to determine his ancestry, perplexed the other passengers.

A large, untidy beard, covered his facial skin, as did his baseball cap for his head. An expensive pinstriped suit, finished off with white tatty trainers, sounded alarm bells in already prejudiced views. Without completely recoiling, as Peterson shifted towards his seat, eyes averted his as he drew near, as though Peterson was a storm or a hurricane heading in their direction. Then the moment of truth, seat 13a. There with her head down in 13b, sat a lady, about forty years old, auburn hair, glued to her electronic device. She didn’t look up once, as Peterson, fumbled with his bag in the overhead space. He spied her, eying her over, from her head to her feet. Deliberately taking his time to address his bag, compensating for the being intently watched by two men in seat 16a & b. This pragmatic opportunity delivered itself like a gift.

Finally slumping unceremoniously into his seat, Sarah White looked across at Peterson. ‘Hello Sarah. We were wandering when we’d have this meeting. You know what I mean don’t you?’

‘Don’t start Sammie. Drop the bullshit and give it to me straight for once’, Sarah fired back again turning to face the window she sat against.

‘I’d love to give it to you straight, you know that right’, Peterson desperately wanted to smile, yet his professionalism didn’t allow that sort of emotion or frivolity. His voice even, no discernible accent.

Sighing, shaking her head, Sarah White’s beautiful, cosmetically manicured face, bright emotionless eyes, began losing some of  colour, vibrancy and sparkle.

‘You lot better understand something’, she started, her voice low, yet determined. ‘If anything happens to me…’ Peterson and Sarah were interrupted by the attendant serving drinks. Peterson ordered two white tea’s with one sugar.

‘You were threatening something’, Peterson continued Sarah’s last repost, as she anxiously stirred her one sugared tea.

‘It doesn’t’ matter anyway’, Sarah reacted sharply, sipping her tepid beverage, ‘ your organisation will find out soon enough’.

‘Umm I see’, Peterson, muttered to himself, something he rarely did. Then he turned to face Sarah, rather seductively, knowing she despised him and his intentions. ‘My secret love, oh how my heart is saddened, as thou’s last journey on a train, leads to your final resting place’. His words faded as the sun does at around 840pm in the summertime. Sarah’s body relaxed, her eyes closing gently, settling into her seat, she drifted into a never ending cycle of sleep.

Peterson sat upright, nonchalant, calm, normal. Chirping could be heard from his right hand jacket pocket, the Mission Impossible theme tune by Lalo Schifrin. Peterson extracted his phone an answered. ‘Is it done’?, was the question. ‘What do you think? Peterson bounced his rhetorical question at his caller. ‘Of course, she’s sleeping’.

That morning, Samuel Peterson, awoke snuggled up in bed with his wife Sarah, who didn’t know about his murderous intentions to divorce her..

(c) Copyright J W Nelson 2017

New Year Wishe(s)

So I guess it’s time to wish

The new year I hope will spark

New beginnings, a new healthy dish

Hard work maybe, with a little walk in the park
Bright, positive hopes 

Coupled with realistic plans

No flight, keep the fight to cope

Resist the temptation for  the’beer cans’ 
Upward, onward, hoisted on the expectant breeze 

2017 is our story yet to be written 

Delivery of your goal is yours to seize 

We reach our targets as we are smitten
Hooked onto the unexpected 

Galvanise all of our effort and time

Never let our family, role,survival be neglected 

Live our lives, day by day as a rhyme…
JW Nelson 

December 31, 2016

Final stage ‘yes we are ready’ (for the season) Day 24

Yes it’s nearly here now

Special time with family 

Togetherness reins and how

As another door is opened by a unique key
Unlock the spirit to always care

Survival through effort allows us to cope

We see you all at yours , here and there 

Aiming for the target of fervent hope…
Happy Christmas 

J W Nelson 

December 2016

Stage 4 ‘nearly there'(for the season) Day 23

Chilling in my room

Waiting for the day

Listening to Christmas sonic booms

As I shade from sun, reminding me of May…

JW Nelson

December 2016

Stage 4 ‘final prep’ (for the season) Day 22

As we party into the night

Celebrate the time and season

Everything will be just right

When we get ‘that gift’ for a reason 
Anticipation reins supreme 

The annual lesson repeats

When we awake will it be a dream?

Or will Expectations be delivered right to our feet?…
JW Nelson

December 2016

Stage 4 ‘ready and waiting’ (for the season) Day 21

Let’s hunker around the t.v.

Grab a drink, maybe some beer or wine

Christmas equals everyone and me

Celebrating the season is divine…
JW Nelson 

December 2016