THE NIGHT WIND

The night wind idly stirs the sail,

Rigging begins to creak and wheeze,

And the lapping waves weave a tale

Of strange things brought in from the seas.

Wreathed in strange dreams, ancient and old,

The old abbey watches all, and sees

Stories unfold, secrets untold,

And strange things brought in from the seas.

The church seems far from the town below,

When dark shapes glide on the night breeze,

And folk here fear the long shadow

Of strange things brought in from the seas…

Painting - Whitby Abbey and Church by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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THE SHORTENING DAYS

As summer heat begins to wane,

On the air is a distant call,

That the seasons' wheel turns again,

And autumn's coming for us all.

Mist haunts crisp mornings and damp nights,

Gold leaves are beginning to fall,

Time for bonfires and candle-lights,

As autumn's coming for us all.

Short days turn us all into ghosts,

The woman in the faded shawl,

The thin man between the lamp posts,

When autumn's coming for us all.

Faint voices whisper on the breeze,

Shadows creeping across a wall,

Pale shapes flit among the dead trees,

For autumn's coming for us all.

Painting -  Autumn Morning  by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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A Figure on a Moonlit Lane

The path home is growing shadows,
As the daylight is getting thin,
Mists creep out across the meadows,
Now that the nights are drawing in.

There’s an old place where no light glows,
Allegedly mired deep in sin,
And I dread its long dark windows,
Now that the nights are drawing in.

Some say they’ve seen an eerie light -
Well, that’s how the rumours begin,
And folk won’t pass that way at night,
Now that the nights are drawing in.

There’s stories of a pallid face,
A ragged shroud, a hungry grin,
So now I run fast past that place,
Now that the nights are drawing in.

Painting - A Figure on a Moonlit Lane by John Atkinson Grimshaw
Verse by Jim Moon

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Watching a Moonlit Lake

Silver ripples across the pale lake,

In cold deep, dead eyes catch the moonlight,

Among the reeds, the drowned awake,

One long lost will walk again tonight.

There’s rumours of twisted footprints found,

On mornings after a misty night,

A wandering trail, scrabbling around,

Then back to the lake before first light.

Some have glimpsed a thin apparition,

Dripping green and black, glints of white bone,

And all agree on it’s dark mission -

It does not wish to return alone...

Painting - Watching a Moonlit Lake by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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A Moonlit Landscape

A Moonlit Landscape

The harvest fields are sleeping,

Moonlight dapples bales and sheaves,

In the hedge something’s creeping,

The night wind among the leaves? 

The sound of footsteps falling

In an empty midnight lane,

Faint voices wailing, calling,

Shadows walk the road again.

The pale road winds on, gleaming,

Round fields and farms, the moon weaves

A path through night’s long dreaming,

For a lost soul that still grieves.

Painting - A Moonlit Landscape by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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THE GHOSTS OF AUGUST

The Ghosts of August

We had such summer times here,

Laughing in the hall's hey day,

A season of endless cheer,

But now only shadows play

Too much, too long, wines turned sour,

The blue skies faded to grey.

But the place still has power,

And now only shadows play

Trapped by secrets, guilt and gloom,

Cant ever leave, doomed to stay,

Locked in echoes of lost rooms,

Now only our shadows play…

Painting - Autumn Glow by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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In the Shadows of the Lane

Do not tarry in the lane,

After sunset stains the sky,

When dead branches weave and writhe

As daylight finally dies

Do not tarry in the lane,

It’s not safe there after dark,

Rumours tell of grasping hands,

And something with skin like bark

Do not tarry in the lane,

When shadows spider the stones,

For stray moonlight might unveil

A thin horror, pale as bones.

Painting - Tree Shadows on the Park Wall. Roundhay Park, Leeds by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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Passing an Old House by Moonlight

That old house is still empty,

Though once it was bright with life,

But darkness calls it home now,

Since the master killed his wife.

‘Twas just evil said the judge, 

And so he hung ten years back,

But they say there's blood stains still,

Spattered on walls red and black.

Did something pass that window?

Surely a trick of the light...

And not a hanged man's corpse

Seeking blood to sup tonight…

Painting - Old English House by Moonlight by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verses by Jim Moon

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The Haunted House

Deserted long ago,

But everyone knows why,

It's left to rot beneath

A lonely haunted sky.

No pathway leads to it,

For none risk being seen

By the creeping figures

With faces dead and green

Painting - The Haunted House by John Atkinson Grimshaw

Verse by Jim Moon

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LANDSCAPES & LOCATIONS V

A drenched landscape,

An imaginary dawn

Dreaming in colour

Imaginary landscape - watercolour sketch by Jim Moon

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LANDSCAPES & LOCATIONS IV

Where three valleys meet,

The old stones are still dancing 

Their ancient circle

Castlerigg stone circle, Cumbria - watercolour sketch by Jim Moon

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LANDSCAPES & LOCATIONS III

Summer whispering,
Gold among the abbey's bones,
Prayers of sunlight

Easby Abby, North Yorkshire - watercolour sketch by Jim Moon

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LANDSCAPES & LOCATIONS II

The old church dreaming,
Remembering golden years,
In the setting sun

Holy Trinity Church, Tunstall - watercolour sketch by Jim Moon

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LANDSCAPES & LOCATIONS I

An ancient camp where
A Saxon battle was won,
The white horse rides on

The White Horse of Cherhill, Wiltshire - watercolour sketch by Jim Moon

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