Archive for the ‘pirate’ Category

A while ago a little boy,

He climbed a tall green tree,

Didn’t know what he was looking for,

He climbed it just to see.


He swung upon its branches,

As he giggled and he played,

A man he’d been a child he was,

Now each and every day.


At times he’d sit there silently,

And think of things to be,

Alone upon his special branch,

Inside his special tree.


I think I’ll be a pirate,

And sail the oceans too,

No I’ll be a little prince,

And wear my coat so blue.


Then one day he climbed the tree,

Another did he spy.

A little girl with pink hair bows,

A welcome in her smile.


At first he was a little shy,

Had nothing much to say,

And even though he was a boy,

She asked if they could play.


They swam beneath the ocean,

So much they had to see,

Telling stories as they went,

Of things they wished would be.


So every day they met and talked,

And stories did they tell.

She taught him how to write them down,

She learned to dream as well.


Time it passed and stories formed,

A friendship strong had grown,

A boy and girl just friends you see,

No other thought was known.


So now this place was full of life,

Of wonders you could see,

Two friends climbing every day,

Within the Friendship Tree.


Inside the tree the many words,

Were written in a book,

A Book of Dreams for all to see,

For all to take a look.


Within the book the words they spoke,

Of friendship pure and true,

Nothing more could there be found,

Between the children two.


Now on branches strong and wide,

Hung from coloured string,

Were Dragonflies and Butterflies,

Which danced upon the wind.


Reflecting light to paint the world,

To put a smile upon the face,

Of anyone that climbed the tree,

And sat within this place.


The white haired boy and girl in pink,

Adventures they did share,

In a forest full of magic,

With the elves and faeries there.


But then one day young boy climbed,

His friend could not be found,

He thought a thought and made a wish,

But she did not come around.


He sat there sad and all alone,

And whiled away the day,

And as he did the boy grew old,

The child just ran away.


Where once a young boy sat and dreamed,

The old man could be spied,

Sitting on the branch well worn,

Looking for the child inside.


Dreams he had all disappeared,

His thoughts they did not last,

The words that flowed so freely once,

Now something from the past.


He tried to weave some magic,

But it wasn’t any good,

It just won’t work he cried aloud,

Even though it should.


He shed a tear and as it fell,

Upon the rose below,

It sparkled like a diamond,

From a story he did know.


Days and weeks passed quickly,

And still he climbed the tree,

Waiting for his friend to come,

But no one did he see.


Had she grown old as he had done,

Or had she gone away,

He waited there so patiently,

And hoped she’d come to play.


He thought he’d seen a butterfly,

As it shimmered in the sun,

Though when he took a closer look,

He saw that there were none.


I’ll come back here tomorrow,

The thought passed through his head,

Maybe then I’ll find my friend,

Or find the child instead.


Darkness fell upon the land,

Revealing stars so wide,

Twinkling eyes that shone so bright,

Looking at the child inside.


The night it passed and as he stood,

Upon the mountain tall,

The sunlight bathed the Tree below,

Twas then he heard her call.


Hello my friend the voice did shout,

Come and sit with me,

Climb on up and play once more,

Inside the Friendship Tree.


Through fields of flowers so wonderful,

Along the path well worn,

No longer walked the old man,

The young boy was reborn.


He climbed the tree and sat upon,

The same branch as his friend,

She told him she had lost her child,

He said he’d done the same.


They giggled and they laughed a bit,

Cause that’s what children do,

They hung a little butterfly,

And a dragonfly or two.


They sat and watched as in the light,

They spun and danced with glee,

The words entwined to speak as one,

Sent from the Friendship Tree.


So let me tell you people,

I know it’s hard to see,

A boy and girl who are just friends,

How can this come to be?


Simple is my answer,

In you I do confide,

There are no special secrets,

There’s nothing you must hide.


Respect and trust and honesty,

With thoughts that run so pure,

Practice this become a child,

Of this I can be sure.


Read Full Post »

Angelica sat on a grassy bank overlooking the inlet. Only moments before, her dearest friends in all the world had disappeared far below the water’s glassy surface to explore all the wonders and mysteries swirling and swarming in the sparkling expanse of blue water. Normally, she would be right there with them, gliding through the cool water, sharing the delight of all the treasures they discovered together. Today was different. She had found the time to come to the shore but could find no time to venture further. So here she sat at the water’s edge, her mind forced to focus today on work rather than on play.

But the sweet memories of the preceding days warmed her heart like sparkling rays of sun falling onto her pale skin, and she replayed them over and over in her mind as though they rode a magical carousel. Though she had stayed on the shore to work, there was an irresistible dreaminess as the fondly remembered moments seemed to rise and fall endlessly to the twinkly sounds of beach-side carnival music, each delicately remembered moment perching itself atop a swirling circle of brightly painted seahorses, dolphins and fanciful fish, all gleaming as they spun in the sun.

How blissful the preceding days had been! So full of sunshine and laughter. There had indeed been many adventures together in the ocean, exploring under dark rock ledges to find mysterious sea monsters, some as long as eight or ten feet long, resting quietly on the sandy bottom. Other delights came in the form of tiny decorative sea slugs, crawling quickly over rocks or resting quietly upon them – minute, multi-coloured jewels in every hue under the sun for which there was no equivalent on land. How comfortable the friends all seemed spending their days soaring like strange sorts of birds in this underwater world.

Angelica loved the quiet confidence of the white-haired boy as he navigated the course, always sharing the treasures he found with her and the beautiful girl in the bright red wetsuit whose eyes sparkled like rubies behind her red diving mask. How surprised Angelica always was by the girl’s growing fearlessness – how she would descend so courageously into the deepest, darkest waters to explore the shipwrecks resting like abandoned monuments at the bottom of the ocean! How bold she had become, squeezing her way under a cave-like ledge to come face to face with some enormous, unknown creature, at the same time too beautiful for words but too fearsome for most people to desire such a close encounter. Angelica’s face beamed with pride at the thought of her friend, even now, gliding deep now beneath the water’s surface, gathering more exquisitely coloured and textured shells to add like medals to her collection as indisputable evidence of how utterly fearless she had become.

Gazing out over the water, in her mind’s eye Angelica also replayed the adventures the three friends had shared out of the water. Only yesterday, they had played games like only the happiest children can play, pretending to be pirates, dodging the flying cannonballs and raising their skull-and-crossbones flag high into the breeze that blew over their heads. Then in the next minute, they were space cowboys, chasing each other with guns that shot lazer beams, squealing with delight as they ran through a dark maze full of corners, twists, turns and mirrors. Even when she tripped and fell to the ground during one of their games, Angelica was so overcome by such child-like glee that she had stayed on the ground, laughing uncontrollably like the eight year old she truly was inside. How blissful, how divine, how simply delightful to be so completely and utterly alive and free!

Even now, breathing the sweet, fresh air into her lungs at the water’s edge, Angelica knew that although she most certainly had Grown Up matters of significance to attend to, that the intense joys she had shared with her two most beloved friends over the past few days would sustain the Child within her for the days and weeks to come. And before too much more time had passed, she found that she had managed to progress through the work which had ungraciously demanded so much of her attention and had kept her from sharing today’s sweet new adventure.

But now here were her friends, the white-haired boy and the sweet red girl, emerging from the water towards her like two strange sea creatures, sparking in the dazzling sunlight. Their smiles embraced her warmly in their joy, and she knew that she had not missed the adventure entirely, for they would relive it for her in exquisite detail, each of them presenting to her one small, precious treasure from the deep – perhaps a shell or a word story or even a pair of warm, wet smiles in exchange for her own. She had waited for them by the water’s edge, and now they had returned.

Read Full Post »

Hello to all our followers.
We hope you are enjoying the work we are putting in the Friendship Tree.
We have now put a large number of the poems and stories into a book, available through Blurb as a Hard cover book or as an E Book for the iPad or iPhone so you can enjoy our work to date at any time.
The books are 180 pages in total with illustrations on a large number of the stories.
Have a look at the following links.



Read Full Post »

Once there was a pirate called William Devlin Glass. He did not have a sad childhood or awful parents. Some little boys grow up to be firemen; others simply grow up to become pirates. And like all pirates, William wanted nothing more in his life than to become a captain and to fall in love with a princess, and to have her fall madly in love with him in return. So of course, this happened.

Princess Lisabeth fell truly, madly, deeply in love with Captain William the first time she spied the pirate flag waving in the breeze over his enormous vegetable garden, as she walked her cocker spaniel Jasper past his lush country mansion.

“You’re not a real pirate, though, are you, Sir?”, she enquired in her most sultry voice, battering her luscious eyelashes over his fence one day as he knelt, weeding the ground between his pumpkins.

“Why of course I am,” Captain William replied, “But only on weekends. During the week, I tend to my garden, feed my chickens and pretend that my collection of garden statues are listening intently to all the fairy tales I make up to tell them. And I like to take pictures of slugs. On the weekends, I belong to the mighty ocean and she belongs to me. But the truth is, I am lonely. I am in need of a maiden, but who would ever fall in love with a part-time pirate?”

“I have often walked past your garden, Sir, and although I am indeed a Princess, I have been intensely in love with the thought of you since the first time I ever saw the skull and crossbones flying high over your enormous pumpkin patch. Now that I have met you in person and discovered you are a true pirate, I am more in love with you than ever. There is no doubt in my heart that you and I are meant to be together – in this life, and in the next.”

“Princess, you are the most ravishing thing I have ever laid eyes upon. Your sonorous voice sends my heart into romantic spasms. Your eyes sparkle like diamonds that any pirate would sail the seven seas to plunder. If you will help me tend my garden and feed my chickens, I will tattoo your name in a heart upon my forearm and eat lunch with you every Thursday at noon. And I will buy you more puppies and adore you – and only you – forever.”

“My dearest Captain, I will indeed do all those things with you and we shall build a lifetime of dreams together. And I shall tattoo your name in a rose upon my wrist. But –“ she hesitated, “ – I simply must draw the line at taking photographs of slugs or going out on your pirate ship on the weekends. I am greatly afeared of the ocean, and nothing in all the world repulses me more than slugs.”

Captain William was at the same time overjoyed and dismayed. He wanted Princess Lisabeth with him every moment. In the past, he had been a solitary pirate, tending his pumpkins by himself, his chickens and garden statues the only companions he needed. But as he got older, he had realised that a solitary life was simply not for him. He rejoiced that he had found the one true love of his life – the woman he adored who would satisfy his every need and desire – but he was sad that he had no-one to share the ocean with on the weekends or to share his passion for photographing slugs.

“Do not be afeared, my love,” said the Princess in her most dulcet tones. “For I have a gift for you. I shall return to present it to you shortly.” And within the hour, she reappeared, carrying a large object, covered from sight by a towel. Upon removing the towel, Lisabeth revealed a rusty cage containing a large pink parrot. The bird was old, and a decade before, it may have been considered attractive. Now it was rather ratty and tatty, many of its feathers having faded, others having fallen out, still others had been pulled out.

“It’s a parrot,” said William, demonstrating his mastery of the subtle art of stating the obvious. “I’m a pirate,” he said, demonstrating the same art yet again. “Don’t you think that’s rather a cliché?”

“My dearest love,” Lisabeth replied, “Do you see this small scar above my eye? This old bird Tippy gave it to me one day when I tried to pull one of its tail feathers out to make a brooch. Stupid bird, really. It has been in my family since I was a child, but no-one quite remembers where it came from. It is only able to speak a few words of garbled gibberish. Now, if you can decipher what it says when it speaks – and if you can tolerate its company for more than a few minutes – maybe you can take it out with you to keep you company when you are pirating on the weekends.”

William contemplated this possibility, then addressed the bird. “Parrot – speak!”, he commanded in tones that only a Pirate Captain would know how to use.

“Rrrrawk – nudibranch!” the bird replied.

Lisabeth shrugged a pair of perfect Princess shoulders. “Utter nonsense!” she declared.

“Tippy – speak!” the pirate instructed again.

“Rrrrawk – cephalopod!” the parrot squawked.

William smiled, the gold of his front tooth glinting in the sunlight as only a pirate’s tooth can, then tested his evolving theory once more, just to be certain.

“Speak, Tippy!”

“Rrrrawk – crustacean degustation rumination!”

Instantly he knew why the bird annoyed Lisabeth so much and why she would never fully understand it. “My darling Princess”, he explained, “This parrot must have belonged to a pirate once before. Everything it knows how to say belongs in the ocean. I do believe this bird will make a fine feathered friend to keep me company on the weekends. With some training throughout the week, I may even be able to teach it to have simple conversations that both of us might learn to enjoy. Every now and then, we might even be able to let it out of the cage and teach it how to fly again. I thank you humbly for your gift.

A pirate lives in hope of treasure, and you – my dear Lisabeth – are the greatest treasure I have ever known or could ever hope to know. Your beauty is unparalled. You are more valuable to me than ten thousand parrots or the rarest treasure chest discovered at the bottom of the deepest ocean. Every desire of my heart is met completely in you. That you love me so totally satisfies my soul. And one day, I may even teach you to understand this strange bird you have given me. What adventures we might all have together!” And at that moment, Lisabeth could see yet another fairytale beginning to form behind William’s dreamy, part-time pirate eyes.

And with that, Lisabeth threw the towel back over the bird cage so the old parrot could not see the most passionate kiss a princess ever gave a pirate. And she and William lived happily ever after, tending pumpkins and feeding chickens during the week in a mansion filled with puppies. And sometimes when they were in the garden telling fairy tales to their garden statues, they would raise their eyes to the top of the pole from which the pirate flag waved in the gentle breeze. Together, they would send a smile up to the old parrot – whom they had patiently taught to fly again – perched all the way on the top of the flagpole, waiting for no greater joy than for the weekend to come.

“Rrrrawk – The End.”

Read Full Post »