Spread the Joy

 The Christmas spirit
enfolds me
something I can smell
touch and feel

I want to spread happiness
Share the love
Feel benevolent

I hum carols
whilst I work
Smile at strangers
Drop coins at buskers feet

I feel the joy of the season
Perform little kindnesses

Think about those I loved
long gone
Remembrance of times past
and thoughts of future

Sending gifts
to show I care
this midwinter ritual
this festival
that holds a special magic

to each and everyone
I try to spread the joy

written for poetry jam #spread the joy
 

Quiet

In a world that roars
demands attention
be still
block out the clamour
inwardly wander
to a place of stillness
where serenity lives
seek solitude
a forest glade
a mountain pool
a hilltop high
travel in your mind
to find peace
listen to the silence
it speaks
to
your
soul

Written for Poetry Jam #Quiet

Too Late

photo by Elene Usdin

Death has found me

Slowly
the blood seeps
from my murderous wounds
 my essence
drains away
till nothing remains

A life cut short

Too late
for goodbyes
Too late
for I love you
Too late
for I'm sorry

Too late
for anything

but

regret

Written for Magpie Tales #Mag249



 

Bond of Union

Bond of Union 1956 M.C. Escher

Like atoms adrift
two people
bound together
yet kept apart
with skin like an apple
 peeled
cored and dissected
unseeing eyes
 unfeeling lips
unconscious connections

Bound and wound
free form but imprisoned
experimentation gone wrong
as they fall into the void

No meeting of minds
or thoughts
no words or sounds
gazing into space
for all eternity

The emptiness echoes
round hollow caverns
hear me
see me
touch me
for I am lost
and unravelled

Written for Magpie Tales #Mag 248


 

 

How To ... Survive Lonliness

You wake
get dressed
and start the day
try to be cheerful
come what may
night dreams are behind you
don't let them hold sway

one plate
one cup
you sit and stare
a dent in the pillow
but he is not there

you sweep
and you clean
as neat as a pin
you talk to yourself
as there's no one else in

you go to the shops
a friendly hello
a neighbour
a friend
you greet as you go

the days they are lonely
the nights they are long
you hum to yourself
a companionable song

you keep yourself busy
you plant and you dig

you're on your own now

and you don't

 give a fig


Written for Poetry Jam #How To

Snow

the wind moans
 gently
as we sleep
the snow falls silently

drifting

 deep

it pillows
and billows
and blankets the ground

 settling softly
not making a sound



written for magpie tales #Mag247













 

snowstorm



the countryside ravaged by winter storm
blanketed deep
snowflakes swirling
like a dervish
blinding
disorientating
drifting
sculpting

battered trees stand sentinel
frozen to the marrow
bones shiver
and blood runs thin
an indigo sky
menaces
whilst the moon looks on

the cold bite of winter
when snow kisses skin
malicious
frost tipped
and hoary
billowing
pillowing
roads rutted deep

warm in our bed
we sleep
curtains drawn on frosted panes
dogs twitch
and dream
as embers slip
and settle
crackling flames leap

icicles form
on gutter and pipe
and
the silent earth
holds its breath
waiting
for
life giving
spring



written for Magpie Tales  #Mag247

Identity

 Each day
I struggle
with who I am
blending into the crowd
a nobody

but in my head
I am different
from anyone else
special
unusual

individual

there is only one of me
unique
rare and precious
unduplicate

multi-faceted
with talents unseen
hidden behind a mask
I lose myself
to indifference

ask me who I am
and I say
just an average Joe

I'm no one really

just me

Written for poetry jam #identity

Nocturne

driving at speed
foot down to the metal
alone on the road

but for

ghostly cows
 in unseen fields
lit only by stars
and a gibbous moon

neon flashes
of
blue light exposure
tail gate following
mile
 after
 mile

into the darkness
an encompassing womb
swallowing you whole

radio playing
late night lullaby
a soft voiced DJ
your only friend


 road never ending
destination unknown
motorway markers
 affording no clue

follow the lines
as cats eyes blink
stay awake
concentrate

it's later than you think


Written for Magpie Tales #Mag246
 

Dreams

your breath quickens
and slows
the darkness enfolds and caresses
as you slip
into your dreamscape

drifting
into an imaginary world
 a thousand realities
of multi-coloured hue

mind aswirl
image clear yet strangely undefined
transparent
encapsuled into stories
of your imagining

memories of people and places
like paint on canvas
daubs of reality and fantasy
otherworldly

past and present
a melting pot of desires
and night terrors
out of your control

slowly you rise to the surface
emerge from sweet slumber
try to remember

but like wisps of cloud
the dreams disperse
lose shape
and form

out of your grasp
fading into sepia


Written for Poetry Jam #dreams

Star Spangled Banner

star spangled in her nakedness
 Miss America is she

state of the union

undressed

a flag-wrapped beauty
 publicity shot

 carefree all American
with flowing hair

brown limbed
and
long legged

arranged so artfully

entrapped
enwrapped

positioned carefully
amongst the folds

hoist the flag
start the parade
and set her free

from her photo opportunity



Written for Magpie Tales #American - Tess provides the image, we the story

 

Pebbles

pinterest



Ancient cliffs
Giant leviathon
Lashed by the sea
Crumble

Millenia pass
Tides ebb and flow

Rocks rumbled and tumbled
Smoothed and shaped
Each one different
Unique
Never two the same

Drawn back and forth
Their journey limitless

Infinite pebbles
Pulled and pushed
Drowned and reborn
With each passing tide
Until sand is formed

Each grain a shadow
of its former self


Written for Poetry Jam

War Games

 

Sticks and stones
will break my bones 

childhood games

of
toy soldiers

in miniature forests

Where anything is possible

a tulip for a gun
a leaf bayonet 

Cowards become heroes

and heroes win the day 

 

But when

reality bites
a game no longer
the garden becomes a battlefield
the toy soldier becomes a man

Fighting for his life

in a war

where there are no winners
 

 

 

 

Written for Magpie Tales #Mag 244 - Tess provides the image, we the story

 

Nightingale



 

 

source

She sings like a nightingale
Her voice soaring
the audience enraptured
Silent
Unmoving
as her notes ring out
rhapsodic

  a dreamworld

of musical beauty
her voice unique
in its purity

unmatched
by any other

she loses herself in the moment
unaware
alone on the stage

her notes pitch perfect
bring a  tear to the eye
and free the soul


Inspiration prompt - Nightingdale at Real Toads 

Broken

They break my heart

they always do

these callous men

that take and never give

Each time I weep and wail

throw my hands to the heavens

And vow

Never again

 

I find my heart

On my sleeve

Open and raw

Wounded

 

 Now in the autumn 

Of my years

I rejoice that the chance

will not come again

I am sufficient

Unto myself

No more my heart will suffer

Slings and arrows

I am whole

Not needing another

 to complete me

This is my way

I will surrender no more

To the whims and fancies

of love

I am a shattered window

of fragmented prisms

 

I am alone

 it was meant to be

At last

I 

Am

Me

Written for Poetry Jam http://poetryjaam.blogspot.co.uk/

Thorn

We called the child Thorn

A rose by another name

The cross he would have to bear

 

His jagged frame

a weapon

his enemies no equal

 

This crown of thorns

 would make him Strong

 his name would pierce the flesh

and the heart

of his oppressors

 

He will prick their conscience

Draw blood

And be thankful

for his Anglo Saxon forebears

 

Read it in the Runes

they speak the truth

 

 

Written for Sunday Scribblings 2  #Prompt 43 Thorn

Winters Chill

 

 

Snug under quilts

of feather and down

Eyes half closed half open

A dream

 part broken

 

 As clocks reverse

 and time stands still

 you wake

 to frost crazed panes

and icy breath

 

 Toes recoil and curl

feeling the frozen ground

beneath your stockinged feet

 

The camp fire fizzles

 and spits  blue flame

the coffee aroma lures you

out

  into the barren winter morn

brave as the first pioneer

 in a strange land

 

Goose pimpled legs and shivering heart

 cold as iron

 your cosy den a warm memory

calling you

to retreat

 with buttered toast

 and honey sweet

to break your fast

 

 

Written for Magpie Tales #243 - Tess provides the image, we the story

 

 

 



1930 Notebook ...

source

I have come
to catch your voice
Your constructed notes going out of the throat
With dry, mechanical gestures,
To catch the shaft
Although it is so straight and unbending,
Then, when I open my mouth,
The light will come in an unwavering line.
Then to catch night
Wading through her dark cave on ferocious wings

On, eagle mouthed,
I have come to pluck you,
And take away your exotic plumage,
Although your anger is not a slight thing,
Take you into my own place
Where the frost can never fall,
Nor the petals of any flower drop.

Dylan Thomas

autumn light

source

 

The garden is damp and shining with early morning dew

Bathed in sunlight

  through petals transparent

  throwing long shadows across the grass

Water droplets on purple ribbed cabbage

glisten

 a different kind of beauty

Whilst the bright sunshine-yellow stems of chard

light up and cheer the soul

 

Autumn is a time for seeking out the unexpected

 to catch the eye

as flowers fade and die

 

Shadows

 thrown against a fence

or

The slow changing of  leaves

 beautiful

in their dying colours

as

Tomatoes cling to their withered branches

Change is upon us

Step by step autumn arrives

 stealthily

snatching the last glories of summer

bite by bite

 

and

 

The last rose petals fall

 at a mere touch

 

A version of this originally posted on  Ramblings from Rosebank )

In Inceptum Finis Est - In the Beginning Is The End

 

 

 

MOTHER

 

Is that all I have been

 

No name to call my own

 

Not sister or daughter or wife

 

Who will remember

 

 

 

How quickly forgotten

 

In the blink of an eye

 

In Octu Oculi

 

 

 

The bole of a tree is my shelter

 

The earth worms my companions

 

Crack'ed bark will talk to me

 

I will listen

 

 

 

And when lichen viridian and moss soft green 

 

cover this marker

 

I will be consumed by nature

 

Turn full circle

 

Ashes to ashes dust to dust

 

 

 

My sum total

 

My being

 

My all

 

Lies beneath this cheapened stone

 

 

 

Unremarkable

 

 

 

In memoriam


Written for Magpie Tales #Mag242 - Tess provides the image, we the story

Mystic Moonlight

 source

Leaf edges illumined
frost rimed
Catching the moons glow
Haunted by shadow
That lurks beneath

 They glitter and shine
Rustle
As the wind passes through
in night time fury

Creatures scuttle and hide
Beneath its girdle
Shining bright

Homeward bound
To some dark den
Moss lined
and earthy

Ill met by moonlight
Branches creak and moan
No one can hear them
They stand alone

 

The Woman in the Mirror

I see myself
 

Four times removed

Through the looking glass

Click goes the shutter

Click

Click
 

Each a reflection

of my other self

Which one is real?
 

Am I

Who I think I am

Perceive myself to be

The woman in the mirror

Is she me?

Written for Magpie Tales #Mag 241 Tess provides the image, we, the story.
 

 

Escape

 

Run 

Without stop

Barbed wire barrier rips and tears

Breathing hard

Pounding heart

Prickling sweat

 

Old man young girl

 Eyes wide open - heart shut closed

Never

Never

Not ever

 

A life over

Before it has begun

No

I can't

I won't

 

Run

Without stop

The barbed wire holds

Enfolds

Scolds

 

I pray to some unknown deity

Hear me

The barbed wire rips and tears

Pull away

Break free

Escape its metallic embrace

 

No old man no young girl

Just freedom

Run

Run

Run

 

Before it's too late

 

 

Written for Magpie Tales #240. Image provided by Tess Kincaid. She provides the image. We, the story.

 

 

THE TREE DWELLERS

 

 

 

Beneath a tawny canopy

Rickety rackety stilted shacks

Nestled

amongst the trees

 

September flicked her skirts

with a golden hue

 

as leaves of amber twisted and turned

And touched the ground

Silently

 

Wisps of smoke

drifted

and purpled berries glistened

with morning dew

 

 

 

Written for Magpie Tales #239. Image provided by Tess Kincaid. She provides the image. We, the story

 

In A World Of Sorrows

 

She trod carefully

Each step sending ripples

Across the lake

Minnows dart

Silver

Catching the light

A distant sun slowly wakens

the early morning

No sound but

The crunch of washed pebbles

beneath her feet

She is alone

The only person left

in a world of sorrows

No one cares

No one knows

The water cools her feet

and her heart

She walks on

To the end of time

 

 

Written for Magpie Tales #238. Image provided by Tess Kincaid

She provides the image, we the story