Monday, 27 February 2017

Lacey May

A vessel so beautiful, sail loves’ sea;
Exploring life, compassed paternally.
All hands on deck, on the wind ride
Our accolade of immeasurable pride.

Hear distant land, a voyage is on way;
Baby in hammock to dock in your bay.
Alight the stars, wise maps of vision 
Guide our uncharted nucleus fission.

A channel opened, man the life boats,
As what was sunk before now floats.
Raise the ensign, fifes and drums play,
A lullaby tune and beat for Lacy May.

A memorable day, 31/10/09, to meet,
Our now anchored pride of our fleet.
She now rests, harboured in her cot
From the pains of labour best forgot.

But let’s not forget the muster cries
From her lips as she opened her eyes;
A bountiful treasure indeed to behold 
Worth more than any sovereigns’ gold.

A quart of rum to wet Lacy‘s head:
Fill your barrels and shoot your lead,
In celebration to the cute baby seen 
Be you deckhand, sailor or marine.

Kenzie, the cabin-boy, a sibling today,
Sits in the crow’s nest leading the way:
A silhouette on the horizon to enjoy 
A son, a brother, and a Pinocchio toy.

Nine months adrift, plot the navigation
To Blighty’s shores free from separation.
The moon guides her in upon its tide 
This new vessel of immeasurable pride.

© Andrew Stevenson 1/9/10

Lacy May Glossary

Lacey May is my Granddaughter.

The first stanza denotes my daughter, the mother of Lacy May.

The phrase uncharted nucleus fission on the last line of the second stanza, is expressing that until the child is born, we dont know entirely what to expect, especially with the assimilation of two genetic codes (mother and father), which explains nucleus, which is also a very similar word to nuclear, which is where fission is derived, which is as yet mostly a nuclear physics enigma.

The seventh stanza expresses in part that a new born child cannot see very clearly, so images may seem to be silhouettes on the horizon.

The word Blighty in the eighth stanza, is an archaic naval word meaning Britain. I deliberately repeated vessel of immeasurable pride within this quatrain.

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.


My Precious Rose

My mother is my precious rose
Whose petals wrap lovingly around me.
Gone are the hurts in life
When she embraces me in her bloom.

From Eve’s garden she grew;
Plucked by God’s own hand.
An angel in my loving eyes
Always watching over me.

Charmed with the brightest of colours
That Mother Nature could nurture.
She is a rainbow
In whose love I flourish.

The sun will always shine on her,
Illuminating her motherly beauty.
Such beauty I hold close,
Be it near or far away.

Her stem will always stand firm,
Supporting me in times of need:
A pillar of great strength
Keeping me always upright.

My mother is my precious rose,
Whose thorns do not prickle but protect:
Entwined in her armour I face the world
To fall at no ones’ feet but my own.

© Andrew Stevenson 27/02/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.