Saxon Princess
Still Friends
Swords into Paper
Childhood Dreams
Celtic Dream
                                 Saxon Princess

The rustling leaves in the summer breeze of joyous times foretell,
The forest glades with heavy scents of bluebells richly smell.
Alone I walk with earnest stride towards tower on yonder hill,
The sun now creeps above the trees in this ancient valley still.

The old oak door is still intact though hinge doth creek and groan,
The old worn winding stair is climbed, firm, solid made of stone.
The top is reached when stepping into sunlight and freshening air,
I see a view of peaceful meadows and forests beyond compare.

The sound of galloping snaps the calm, now urgency fills my mind,
The heartbeat rises with anticipation much like the startled hind.
Across the meadow there below the horse and rider fly,
A lady, to a secret meeting comes, while cloudless burns the sky.

My heart now full of loves excitement, my face with joy aglow,
I wave with frantic gesture to my princess down below.
She with an air of stately poise returns my happy greeting,
Then turns towards the tower, for this, our timely meeting.

Gliding into sunlight from the darkness of the stair,
Her face has a glancing look of shyness, of this she was unaware.
Dazzling hair like a golden fleece shone in curls round her head,
Bringing my eyes to such a face that beauty was poor complement made.

My princess indeed of royal strain not just in name but looks did crown,
Her lovely form was clothed around with shapely 'broidered flowing gown.
As we moved close my sturdy legs felt strangely frail and weak,
How much do we rely on, and the response of others seek?

Her lips shone bright with lust and pleasure like an undiscovered fruit,
The touch at first was gentle, the beauteous feeling left me mute.
But then, full realising in ecstasy the gorgeous body held in space,
My arms became as bands of steel in a passionate embrace.

As bright as now the sun shone down no light our bodies passed between,
Naught could contain desire's flames that made the sunlight cool now seem.
How could this ever end, could life be cruel and separate us with fiendish ploy,
Such thoughts hang round our deepest souls e'en when our minds near burst with joy.

The years have passed, the tower now stands dark, grey, cold and dim,
A sentinel on the hill unchanged by passions gentle cares within.
Its stones are hard and e'en when hot in summer's sun, have no fond feeling
Of joy and pleasures experienced on its walls - yet we remember!

Henry Gibson
Published in "Emotional Ties" by Poetry Now, 1995
          Childhood Dreams

Flying high o'er trees and hills,
The memories of childhood soar again,
Oh that the haunts of birth could speak aloud my dreams
Of love that might have been!

Such beauty as a child I did behold,
Eyes so bright e'en stars looked dull,
Could such childish contact brand my mind so deep
To keep it locked in dreams for all these years?

Is this all real or just a hidden haven
Of hopes and things that could never be?
Why didn't I try to reach her, to be close?
So weak, no confidence in myself at all!

Too late, the dusk comes through the trees,
She's no more here - taken by the years,
Why did she come to haunt my life like this?
Oh to be six again!

Henry Gibson

Published in "Break in the Clouds", 1993 by The National Library of Poetry, Maryland, USA.
Published in "Memories" by Poetry Now, 1995
Published in "Childhood Dreams" by Triumph House, 1999
                A Celtic Dream

Heat in the breeze, the joy of summer days,
Hot sun warming the body, intent to laze
On lonely beach bereft of human kind,
Now calm and peace surround my tired mind.

Waves crashing echo out along the shore,
Frothing foam advances, then retreats once more,
Gulls circling overhead on tireless wing,
A mocking chorus to my pleasure bring.

I raise myself to scan the scene.
Alone! no one to share this tranquil dream,
Then suddenly! from out the wild spray
A figure starts, and heads this way.

Her form, now faint at first, comes into view.
My body weak yet rigid cannot take it in.
Who is this beauty bending my mind's grasp
Of what is future, now, or maybe past?

Drops glistening in the sun fall slowly from her hair,
Those eyes, brown pools of depth unknown,
Yet knowing all my senses and desire now lie
Captured in her burning gleam of passion!

No vocal message, common, such as speech,
Disturbs this spell of two in common dream now locked.
Just tantalising sound of lips that touch and part,
Then brush against her sea showered skin of silk.

Her brightly coloured costume soon gives way,
To warm flesh, soft, throbbing in the sun.
All sounds of sea and sky then fade away,
At last in agonising depths we spin as one!

Henry Gibson
March 1997


                        Swords into Paper

No more the crushed bones and blood soaked sod,
The sharpened steel hangs dull in Scotland's military tombs,
The cries of sacrifice for freedom now echo muffled down history's halls,
Who gives second thought to what was lost by many, to profit few?

This Nation must awake with taste of self-determination on its lips,
Wash out its mouth now dry from slumber under southern dictate!
Rise again to challenge those who put us down as less than nation,
An insult to him whose monument Stirling's skyline breaks!

Can we let this pass by, like aliens from another world?
Are we so different, that by history taught to keep our place?
Or can we put our hand to hold the rudder of our ship,
To feel the current race and have the strength to hold her steady?

Shall we continue as a curiosity, a tourist's trinket,
Talked about then now forgotten midst cluttered shelves of dross,
Have we no better value on our nationhood than fancy dress?
The patronising chant of those who seek our usage we need no more!

Away those people who would seek self gain o'er Scotland's future,
Arise now Scots with sense of cost for what we have and can achieve!
To raise a banner of self-confidence above the throng of doubters,
To see decisions by Scotland, for Scotland, in Scotland once again!

Henry Gibson
Published in "Words Of Independence" by Triumph House, 1999
                Still Friends

Dark shadows fall, clouds cover the sky,
Good friends don't ask, how or why?
They hold each other through storm and flood,
Caring not for those who deal in mud.

Their friendship lies deep in past embrace,
Dreams held together in happier days,
They understand what each heart knows best,
Perfection from the other is not their quest.

Sunlight above now gladdens their face,
Pain pushed aside in a firm embrace,
Let nothing this bond come in between,
Forever is what this friendship will mean.

Henry Gibson

Secular Poems
Copyright  Henry Gibson

                        Pacific Queen

Palm branches swaying overhead in balmy breeze,
Sun flashes dancing through fronds of green,
Now try to steal our shade and calm repose,
As there we lie, side by side, hands clasped in care.

Turning once again to gaze upon my gentle love,
Can I doubt those eyes of sparkling joy,
Brown pools of love mysterious in depth hold me in trance,
While loving fingers caress my outstretched hand.

Pacific breakers muffled roll along the sun-drenched beach,
Dense foliage close by brightly punctuated by coloured birds,
Am I here, or is this, but just a dream?
Bringing me so near my love - Pacific Queen.

I turn to hold her locks of wavy tresses,
Black as night and smooth like silken fleece,
She beckons me to come and hold her close,
To touch her amber skin with youth aglow.

My racing heart on fire with burning passion,
Can scarce feed my trembling body's surge of love!
As cool my lips would touch her quivering body
With reassuring kiss to channel love's strong flame.

Her soft lips now rub my neck with cool desire,
Gentle fingers down my back its length would go,
Shivering gently our bodies melt together,
Fused as one, clasped tight in rhythmic rock.

Our minds are swimming all at once in cauldron hot,
We feel each others thoughts as minds melt into one,
Can we be closer now than this?
Nay, our love for one another is complete as we are one!

Henry Gibson
Nov 1998
To be published in "Time Is Of The Essence" by Forward Press, June 2003


Pacific Queen
True Love
                True Love (Valentine)

True love will last while true lust will pass,
True love gives without the need to ask,
True love is not passing, something for the moment,
True love is to the end, with lasting fulfilment.

Henry Gibson


                                    Sweet Sarah

Flames flickering from the fire throw dancing shadows round the walls,
T’is now the only light there present in this cottage by the sea.
Waves breaking on the shore below give rhythm to this fairy glow,
I find myself now drifting to that enchanted place of conscious sleep.

What thoughts can come upon the mind in such a place,
Perhaps a wishing for some things beyond our reach?
For me it was the beauty of sweet Sarah,
Whose dark hair drew me to her face like one entranced.

Beyond her locks what lay was indeed surpassing all,
A face so lovely no words can be considered just.
Lips whose touch was but a vain forlorn wish,
To feel such beds of love, nothing but a hopeless dream.

Dark eyes, the final prison of my mind,
Whence I could no longer look away,
Nor did I wish for such to do,
But here transfixed her prisoner longed to be.

The flames now hushed, now glowing embers,
Shadows stilled upon these rough old walls.
Sleep encroaches upon my dreams with unkind speed,
Sweet Sarah gone as one more wave now crashes on the beach.

Henry Gibson   21 July 2005



Sweet Sarah