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Glass Mountain Writers - Michael Schofield
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Michael Schofield is a Yorkshire based industrialist, the Chairman of a group of international manufacturing companies. Six years ago Michael was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, a degenerative neurological condition. The effects of the disease prevented him from carrying on his workaholic lifestyle.
To help him accept the situation Michael started to write down his feelings, sometimes in prose, sometimes in verse. Friends and family enjoyed his poetry and encouraged him to seek a publisher.
Michael is assembling a collection of his works to create an anthology and is also writing a novel, which draws heavily on his commercial experiences.
Haiku
Cold hands, no mittens,
Stuff hands in deep pocket and
find a sticky sweet.
The final voyage of a lifetime
I’ve come down from the crow’s nest
with a spyglass in my hand.
I’m sure the course I’ll take is best,
I hope you’ll understand.
We have crewed this ship together,
over half a lifetime’s seas.
We’ve sailed in every weather
but I’ve not seen days like these.
Oh! I know I’m getting older.
Aches and pains, I have my share;
but the Doctor when I told her
bade me sit upon a chair.
She said my journey’s almost over.
Soon I’ll reach my final port.
The one where cold earth greets the rover,
where size of vessel counts for nought.
How, my darling, can I break it,
that we two can sail no more.
That I’m only going to make it
to the port on dark death’s shore.
Can you sail on single-handed?
Will you sign another mate?
How I hate to see you stranded,
facing such a lonely fate.
I’ll keep my peace and spare your feelings.
Perhaps the Doc. has got it wrong?
We’ll try to find some ancient healings,
something that will make me strong.
But no, my course is ready, plotted;
I have to go and can’t take you,
I’ve almost used my time allotted,
so “goodbye” my lovely, loyal crew.
The ace of spades
It was the Ace of Spades that did it
He thought that he had hid it
Up his sleeve, but it spiralled to the floor
And in the dust it lay
With its black face on display
He was lucky he was quickest on the draw.
He showed the barrel of his gun
To each and every one
And said he was sorry that he’d cheated all the while
He told the players to stay seated
He took the cash and then retreated
To the back door, he wasn’t waiting for a trial.
Then someone who, we’re not quite certain
Stuck a shotgun through the curtain
And told him, “ stand, put up your hands, don’t make a move.”
This shotgun’s pointed at your liver
And if you so much as shiver
I guarantee your health will not improve.
He put down his forty five. At least he was still alive
Then they grabbed him and marched him through the door
As he passed the gaming table
He bent down and was just able
To pick up the Ace of Spades from off the floor
At least he got a trial, of that there’s no denial;
The Judge said “Cheats don’t prosper in this state”
He pointed out the law in Wichita and Arkansas,
Death by hanging and their possessions confiscate.
They hung him from a tree. A big crowd came out to see
The trap door opened by the hangman just as planned.
He took the fatal drop
And as he jerked to a full stop
The Ace of Spades floated down from his dead hand.
Vampires
It was a Vampire that did this.
See the marks of its loving kiss.
The kiss of death.
Bat –like, it silent flew to seek its prey,
To drink its blood, like Beaujolais
The wine of death.
A smooth caress to bare the skin
The fangs come down….they bite…they’re in.
The bite of death
The victim’s blood, so fresh, so sweet
The Vampire drinks its fill, replete,
The drink of death.
Shroud-like, its cloak, as black as night
Spreads out as wings and it takes flight
The flight of death
It flies back to its cold stone tomb
Down in a deep dark catacomb
The grave of death
And there it rests till Halloween
The only time that it is seen.
The view of death
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