Rain Day Poem

Rain pounds the roof

It sounds like a storm

We all hide inside, keeping dry while the ground is soaked

Plants are greedily drinking, and turning their flowering faces up to greet the water

We sip hot drinks and wait

Wait for the clouds to pass out to sea

Water meeting with water

Written by Glen 8/12

Stressing at Uni

The books are piling up

There is so much to do!

But sadly there is so little time, assignments are due and need to be examined

Every word has to be checked and checked again

I’m always aiming for that High Distinction!

I want to break out into song but it might ruin my grade

I’ll try to keep things academic…

Maybe just a short poem to finish off the report?

One needs a bit of poetry to brighten up the day.

By Glen, 2/12/14

The Birds

I wonder if the birds are watching us?

Noting different tones and languages,and admiring our colours?

If only we could see the beauty in our differences, and see our diversity for the gift it is.

We might take better care of ourselves and each other.

It would be a beautiful thing to see unity rather than strife in the hearts of our fellow man.

Maybe the birds watch us and wonder why we don’t do better?

People see problems where they could see solutions, and they think only of the bad when there is so much good.

I hope that we can let the songs of the birds lead us to a better understanding.


By Glen, 2/12/14


The year has just passed

like a flash in the night,

and you have come here to resolve

any issues we have with the land,

the creatures and it’s people of old.


Resolve what you like, here, now

and take my humble advice,

with our hearts we go forth

and with our voices, respect.

Take heed of our fore-fathers,

for the mistakes they made, should never be repeated.


Too much is now known to ever turn back.

You can help by listening, to the wounds of our land.

How many times must it weep, before we start to take action?

To drink our once clear water from our rivers and streams is no more.


Our once healthy frogs are now no longer.

You need to have faith in our people of old,

as they knew how to look after our land.

Are the families of old ever going to have their life back?

Your love for this country is imperative, for future generations.


My thoughts for you tonight,

are take good care of our land, its people and animals.

Let us together go forth hand in hand,

and build a safe generation of youth,

Together we can act as a powerful voice,

with a respect that is due, and a love of all creatures

however great or small.

Written by Glen Sheppard, 2004

The Future

I do not worry about what the future holds.

It is mine to shape, and I hold it in my hands, letting it take form

while my mind wanders.

I take in the constant humming of the world and all the people in it.

I think of my future as a tree that grows in a field, growing taller and taller,

while the branches reach out.

The fruit on those branches are the pieces of my mind that I share.


By Glen, 21/11/2014

Watching the Ocean

New poem by Glen, finished this morning!

Watching the Ocean

I’ve been watching the ocean,

the waves crash, like the thoughts in my mind.

My mind is like the water, they sometimes rush and crash,

against the golden sand on the beach.

But sometimes they are so quiet and serene that you can see the sky itself,

reflected in my mind.

A mirror for the sky, and for the world beneath it.

Mind mind holds an entire ocean within,

hidden but so alive, and deep like the Pacific.

The ocean in me brims with ideas, bubbling to the surface like foam on the salt water.


Written by Glen Sheppard, 17/7/14.


To The Garden I Go

When things get too much for me,

as they often do,

to the garden I go,

to find a blade of grass,

to flick away my woe.


It is hard to explain what flicking is

to people who are not like me.

Picking a ‘flicker’ is an art in itself,

I choose from a sea of possibilities.


It will not do if it does not bend,

or if it is too heavy or too light.

Once I find it, down I sit

and flick away this light.


it is something I can focus on

when my mind is awash with muck.

I twirl and flick my blade of grass

as sticky thoughts become unstuck.


By Glen Sheppard, from Elvis Has Left The Building (2002)

The Greatest Place

I have a place I run to,

a place where I can hide,

that no one else can go to,

except for me.


It’s inside my mind,

inside my heart.

A night for the day outside:

a day for the night inside.


I want to hide until the dawn

of laughter in my mind;

the sailing of the boat

that brings my race to an end.


We are all on in our solitude:

I am him, she is me

in this, the greatest place.


By Glen Sheppard, from Elvis Has Left the Building (2002).



Reflections of Me

How do you see me?

As someone with good looks,

charm and wit?

That would be a joke,

wouldn’t it?

After all, you can’t see that,

you can’t see where I’m at.

If you don’t look at me,

do I disappear?

I am bright as the sun,

ready to show everyone

that what you see isn’t really me;

it’s a reflection,

a reflection of me.


Poem by Glen Sheppard, from Elvis Has Left the Building (2002).