The cool girl at school
Who called me fat and ugly.
Now size of a house!
PoetryPea
Poetry by a lover of poetry
Wednesday 2 March 2016
Sunday 28 February 2016
The honeybees
A cacophony of crickets chirrup
Their strident summer sonata
Hidden in heady scented honeysuckle
Neath wooden shuttered windows.
Perfume and percussion permeating
The broiling boudoir,
Where sweat soaked bodies mingle
On scrunched and wrinkled sheets
In languid explorations of the everyday.
Honeybees drone
Sipping ethereal ambrosia
Out flagrant, fragrant buds.
A kamekaze colleague
Flying fruitlessly at fastened shutters
Seeking secret nectar.
A hero in its lilliputian mind.
Inside, diabolic digits delve deep
Twixt florid furtive folds.
Animas coalesced in bliss,
Arching, twisting writhing, and still
Honeybees drone,
Crickets chirrup,
And somnolent shadows slumber.
Their strident summer sonata
Hidden in heady scented honeysuckle
Neath wooden shuttered windows.
Perfume and percussion permeating
The broiling boudoir,
Where sweat soaked bodies mingle
On scrunched and wrinkled sheets
In languid explorations of the everyday.
Honeybees drone
Sipping ethereal ambrosia
Out flagrant, fragrant buds.
A kamekaze colleague
Flying fruitlessly at fastened shutters
Seeking secret nectar.
A hero in its lilliputian mind.
Inside, diabolic digits delve deep
Twixt florid furtive folds.
Animas coalesced in bliss,
Arching, twisting writhing, and still
Honeybees drone,
Crickets chirrup,
And somnolent shadows slumber.
Tuesday 13 October 2015
Tay
The sun rose to its height
In a midsummer sky.
I wired up my walking boots,
Stout brave shoes
Which laughed at stubble,
And splashed through iron brown streams
In their stride.
I took up my can
Of thick, strong, red brown tay,
Sweet ,
With white sugar, not brown
And a dash of milk.
Together we would step once more
Across the dams of my youth,
Slosh through fresh, mountain streams,
Creep warily around bovine bottoms
Caked in excrement,
And walk the stubble filled fields
Empty now of hay,
And my people.
Generations of shirt sleeved spirits
Leaning on their rakes and forks
Sweating in the sunshine
Would rejoice in the sight of me,
With the tay.
erhaps for the last time,
I'll sit amongst the memories
And sip my lukewarm brew,
Communing with my dead,
reparing myself
For that hollow moment
When clay meets wood.
When all I will have
Are memories
And sweet red tay.
Sunday 9 November 2014
Grant me my day
Grant me my day.
Bestow your omnipotent blessing
On this frailest of frames,
Dipping and diving,
Defiantly elastic,
A ferocity of fluidity
In alien aqueousness.
Grant me my day.
To envelop my kin with love,
Kiss their salt cheeks,
Gaze into their pellucid pools
All seeing soothsayers,
Channelling their future,
Broad avenues to their past.
Grant me my dark.
Consent to cushioned comfort,
The consequent closure of my eyes,
Cessation of terrestrial triviality.
I plead etherial continuation
In unplumbed precincts.
Grant me new days.
Today reading Salvatore Quasimodo with the real Toads, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca , I was inspired to think about what I would do with my last day. This was the result.
Have a lovely day folks.
Bestow your omnipotent blessing
On this frailest of frames,
Dipping and diving,
Defiantly elastic,
A ferocity of fluidity
In alien aqueousness.
Grant me my day.
To envelop my kin with love,
Kiss their salt cheeks,
Gaze into their pellucid pools
All seeing soothsayers,
Channelling their future,
Broad avenues to their past.
Grant me my dark.
Consent to cushioned comfort,
The consequent closure of my eyes,
Cessation of terrestrial triviality.
I plead etherial continuation
In unplumbed precincts.
Grant me new days.
Today reading Salvatore Quasimodo with the real Toads, http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca , I was inspired to think about what I would do with my last day. This was the result.
Have a lovely day folks.
Wednesday 5 November 2014
Sea View
Boney bum shuffle
Pebble padded sea sprayed pew
A room with a view
A Haiku written to remind me of the hours I have spent sitting on the pebbles on Brighton beach, England.
Pebble padded sea sprayed pew
A room with a view
A Haiku written to remind me of the hours I have spent sitting on the pebbles on Brighton beach, England.
Wednesday 29 January 2014
Limerick
Reading of the Limerick
There once was a boy from New York
Especially fond of roast pork
He sat by the fire
To his mother's great ire
And banged on the floor with a fork
An unsuccessful attempt at Twitter poetry, 1 character over, sorry. Joining with Imaginary garden with real toads.
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca
There once was a boy from New York
Especially fond of roast pork
He sat by the fire
To his mother's great ire
And banged on the floor with a fork
An unsuccessful attempt at Twitter poetry, 1 character over, sorry. Joining with Imaginary garden with real toads.
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca
Tuesday 28 January 2014
Our river
Immortal river
Still pools and white crested waves
How have I known you?
A haiku to share with dverse at http://dversepoets.com
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