JINGLE ON MY SON!

JINGLE ON MY SON!
A doughty champion of his local culture.(Poet Tom Hubbard)Your performance at the city hall was soooooooooo good! Christoph thought it was excellent! (Carolyn)

27.8.11

TREES DON’T HURT ME


















Trees don’t hurt me,

unless cut into batons.

In so cost conscious a countryside,

they afford me rest.

So cool, so upright, their dignity

binds me to the tranquil forest.

They assert an uncomputerised grain

which feeds my spirit’s hunger.

Trees offer shelter to my painful moods,

calm my tempers and fierce dreams.

We must learn respect for trees,

they can teach us to breathe,

to sway naturally,

to leave space in poems


for silence.





KEITH ARMSTRONG

the jingling geordie

My photo
whitley bay, tyne and wear, United Kingdom
poet and raconteur