Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Another Poem

First Date

We shared a bench for lunchtime
Miss Amanda Trott and I
she had a pot of salad,
And I had Grosvenor pie
I really liked her company
but couldn't help wonder why
She'd asked if she might share a bench
with me.

The sun was very pleasant
neither too hot, nor too cool
and childrens voices cracked the air
down by the paddling pool
Amanda chatted easily so
I didn't feel a fool,
I just answered all her questions and
we smiled

I could feel the threads between us
building layers like a rope
Her easy manner helped me,
made me feel that I could cope
and although I wasn't confident
It really gave me hope.
that we might do the same again

My watch relayed the message
it was time for us to part
but I really felt attachment
by these strings from heart to heart
so I blurted out the question
"Do you think that we could start
to see each other when we aren't
here working?"

She looked at me quite kindly
and then she gave a wink
and she said "I'm doing nothing
Sunday lunch-time - do you think
that if I gave you my phone number,
you could take me for a drink?"
and I just sat there with my eyes and mouth
wide open.

Well, we couldn't leave the park through
separate gates now, that was clear
although that was the way we entered
when we first came here
so she took my arm,(the rope intact)
and I grinned from ear to ear,
and we walked back to work again

Saturday, 14 January 2012

Butterfly Mind

I've grown so tired of busy-ness
all my life to work and slave
to have, to make, to grow, to own
is how I was taught to behave

But was I meant to be tied down?
My mind is as a butterfly
from this to that, uncharted course
in nectar search, no question why

I find a flower, I dip my tongue
to find sweet sustenance within
I taste new flavours, fill myself
with pleasures new, just mine to win

I seek the sun, I search for warmth
I rest and spread my wings to dry
then sensing breeze, I lift again
as others watch me flutter by

I was a caterpillar once
and all I did was eat and sleep,
Now memories of that trying time
would, if I cared, just make me weep.

I know my days are numbered now
and winter soon will vanquish me
but 'til it does, it's my intent
to share my beauty, and just be!

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

January 11th 2012

I can't believe it's January
the sun has shone all day
the thrush is singing in the Ash
there's not a hint of grey
and though the day is still so short
it makes me want to say
that Spring is only just around the corner.

The catkins hang like lambs' tails
in the nutbush by the hedge
The moss is looking brighter
where it grows upon the ledge
and though I know there's plenty time
for Nature's snowy dredge,
it feels like spring is just around the corner.

Not three weeks yet since solstice
yet it feels we're halfway there
the garden has an air to it
that doesn't have a care.
Let fill-dyke February come try her,
but still she'd best beware
even though it feels like Spring is round the corner.

Tuesday, 10 January 2012

A poem about my poetry.

Sometimes I like to write in verse
sometimes I favour prose
I’ve no idea why which I choose
it’s random, I suppose
but it seems the poems start themselves,
but do they? Heaven knows.
It matters not, as long as both
the word and feeling flows.

my Muse will take the day off
and I’m completely bereft of worth.
No words to lay,
no rhyme to play,
I have to wait another day
before the things I want to say
will all come tumbling forth.

Oftimes, I’m thinking,
Where is this poem
Sometimes I write
without an end
in view.
but rarely
am I left with
no conclusion...........

this time.

Monday, 2 January 2012

Art Exists

I woke up in the middle of the night with this poem forming in my mind, so got up and let it happen. I have no idea what prompted it - maybe a dream.

Art exists
as in that thinnest ribbon
between the sand
and the sea;
that point of constant flux
twixt ebb and flow,
foam laced
or rivulet,
catch as can catch,
one second here
the next begone.
Too often the pundit
feels need to explain
but alas
has already missed
the moment
for the want of
his own existence.
Art requires nothing of you
other than the
need to be
that you might see
and enjoy,
that you might feel
and be changed by it.
Absorb it!
Love it or hate it!
But feel it!
Art Exists!