We live in a world of light and shade
Where people suffer and need our aid
Where children starve, their eyes downcast,
With legs like sticks they're forced to fast.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

On TV we've seen them there,
Babies sucking on dry breasts bare.
Once strong fathers giving up hope -
With hunger and fear it's hard to cope.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

Men and women, old and young,
Walk for miles in the glaring sun.
Upright and gaunt they make their way,
Refugees in the heat of the day.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

This miserable mass, flying no flags,
Bundles of bones clad only in rags;
Tormented and goaded by fat filthy flies,
Crawling on faces with tearless dead eyes.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

When skeletal children stop asking why,
And frail old people just lie down and die.
When feudal armies plunder and fight,
Caring nothing for human right.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

What can we do to ease their pain?
Find them water to grow their grain?
Care and support is what they need,
Not fear and hunger or selfish greed.
Do we care enough?  Do we care?

Valerie Copeland
written for Christian Aid

Sullen sun is shading face
Time is hanging, standing still.
Deepening clouds collect above
Rise and threaten, glower and glare.
Wicked wild winds whip up rain,
shocking scurrying showers in
to hostile high pitched howling.

Blowing, biting, blustering,
huffing puffing gusting gale,
incites the sea to seethe and stir,
writhe and threaten, leap and whir.
Gaining power it sweeps and slides.
Soars and screams towards the gulls
who wheel and screech and squabble above.

So the surging swelling sea,
all padded up and spitting froth
rolls on and on relentlessly,
rising up in ranting rage.
From jarring, jabbing, frothing jaws,
it flings forth foam into the face
of shrieking shrinking, shivering sky.

Wrathful rows of warrior waves,
flying high their furling flags,
march on towards defiant rocks,
which stand secure and hold at bay
the warring waves,
as smashed to spray,
they change into quivering,
shivering,
sad puddles of salt water.

The spent out storm, submissive now,
subdued and hushed,
as whispering waves play peacefully upon the sand.
Birds run pit pat on the beach.
With sighing sobs the sea retreats.

Once sulking Sky serenely smiles.
And all is calm and all is peace.

Valerie Copeland

Shipmates, luggers, ting a ling ling,
Over the sea and over the line,
Sail a ship and hear them sing,
Under the sky with lunar shine

Chorus:
Lunar, lunar, lunar moon,
Dance with me and sing this tune

Billowing clouds and restless seas,
Swaggering sails puffed out with air,
Take your partners if you please,
Patter the hornpipe if you dare

Chorus

Come to the Captain’s table now.
Face your partner, tilt your hat.
Glance a smile and make a bow.
Swing to back nine tails of cat.

Chorus

Walk the gang plank one by one.
Slap your thighs and clap your hands.
Stride a Jumping Jack when done,
And follow my lead to distant lands.

Chorus

Bring the rowdy rum on deck.
Play your cards and back your hunch.
Jesting, jabbering parrots peck.
Powder Monkeys pack a punch.

Chorus

Masted galleons, island kings;
Give a penny for your thoughts.
Treasure trove and emerald rings,
Golden girls in foreign ports.

Lunar, lunar, lunar moon,
Dance with me and sing this tune

Valerie Copeland

Jumping  jackers, Christmas crackers,
Lulu's party is under way.
Little boys all bustle and noise,
taunt and tease the pert and pretty
girls with curls all swing and sway.
Burst ballooning, pets in hiding,
Mums watch Neighbours, come what may!

Titter, tatter, children chatter,
jostle, jive, jump and writhe.
Fisted, fudgie, foraging fingers,
cheesy dippers, cola sippers,
tiny totters missing mum.
Hide and seeking, eyes a'peeping.
Are you ready, here we come!

Jelly, jubbly, juicy chews,
crumbs all sticky, glibbery goo's.
Spilling of the dribbly drinkies,
cramming creamy chocolates.
Kids ballooning, banging drums,
Slurping, sucking, choking, chomping
tempting treacle toffee sticks

Snotty noses pressing panes.
Steamed up windows, guessing games.
Passing round the padded parcel,
flitter, glitter, witter, titter,
frantic, festive, fumbling fun.
Dancing, prancing, hunt the thimble,
shouting, shambling - everyone.

Valerie Copeland

Padding prowler of the night
marking time on high,
standing proud in starry light
from a velvet sky.

Stalking stealthily with pride
from his daytime den,
lightly lengthening his stride
into evening.

Wandering on his watchful way,
shadowing the moon,
darkness overpowering day;
Nature in attune.

Pacing on without a pause
over hills and plains,
thrusting deeply down his claws
into ground he gains.

Standing still, triumphantly,
luminously light,
the beast surveys victoriously
the silvery scenic sight.

Whence he came he swiftly goes,
lest he lose his power,
as the clamouring cockerel crows
the dawning daylight hour.

Valerie Copeland

The day is dim.

The air is full of dark and heavy thundering.
Thoughts oppressed within the mind
are fraught with shadows, dim with shame.
How deep and mystic can this be,
these timeless depths of doubt and sin,
of troubles here that lie within my heart,
my mind,
my soul.

I fear it is forever here.

Oh God, oh God, my prayer is Thee.

Valerie Copeland

The scene is set, the time is right
for Winter's end to come tonight.

Over the playful prattling stream
lean lazy age-scarred ancient oaks,
whose reaching roots along the ground
make nesting nooks for shy moor hens
and garrulous geese to rear their young.
Fine frosted air hangs misty and hazed;
the low-setting sun glows rustily red -
a copper-tinged full bloodied globe.

Shoulder to shoulder in silhouette,
as one on the brow of the hill,
stand sheep alert, all eyes facing front,
full fleeced silent and still.

A clanging farm gate is their manifest sign
the farmer has come with the hay.
His two collie dogs first lie low and wait,
but when they hear their master's call,
they slyly sneak behind the sheep
to drive them forward to and fro.
With bark and bite the dogs hold tight
the twitching ewes into a group.

The farmer counting his clustered flock
sends smoke-like breath curls in the air,
then whistling tunelessly rides away
with his dogs on his rusty rig.

Long after the sun has slipped away
and rosy robins ceased their song,
in the still night air of peace and calm
bathed in the milk of mystic moon,
a ewe cries out, a soulful sound;
and on the crackling frosty ground
in that pregnant pause before day dawns,

A lamb is born.

Valerie Copeland

Framed, as from a hill top high,
on display some scenic sight,
Fields and forests waving in
a swaying sea of lilting light.
Woods in Autumn glory shed
coloured sequins from their gowns,
as they change from Summer green
into gold and reds and browns.

Curving in a smile of pride,
far horizons arch around
ancient trees of giant growth
rooted deep into the ground.
Smudgy places of dark shade
mark the brushwood of the land.
This, a nature art landscape,
painted by God's holy hand.

Burnt sienna, ruby red,
sandy, creamy coloured clays.
Shafts of sunlight making this
as one of Autumn's finest days.
No 'Still Life' this painting, set
on crude canvas of dark earth,
fill me with protective love
for this land, my place of birth.

Valerie Copeland