October 14, 2004

My Poetry

I am just going to write because I cannot help it either!

I like writing poetry as a means of self-expression.

Last Day at School

'I never want to see you anywhere near
this school ever again'
I knew then that I was to have something
that she would never have
a child
My parents took on her alienated aspect
I was expelled
That conversation festered
and burst in a degree

Eternity

Our blood tangled that day
Whispering through our veins
Towards the only course it knew
Eternal love for me and you

The Wedding

They stood
Impoverished in everything save love
He gave her his name
She gave him his son
Behind their bright, simple, hearts
A dark cloud murmured
It cannot last.

Without Words

Bright blue eyes
A steady gaze
searing into her heart
Pain's distant planet
flew away
An uneasy future
lay before them
A powerful bond
between them
Life would never be
the same again
No-one had told
the child mother

I have three granddaughters who are very special to me, Sian, Molly and Alice.

The Princess

Not behind the palace wall
where prying eyes
can find her

Not in castles' turrets tall
where princes hope
to meet her

Not at Cinderella's ball
where hopefuls wish
to trap her

Not in stately home or hall
where butlers yearn
to serve her

For our princess is yet small
it can be hard
to see her

Baby Sian she beats them all
she's won our hearts
we love her.

Molly

When lashes fall
o'er eyes of blue
'bove silky cheeks
of rosy hue
Jemima sings her ward to sleep

Where puddleducks live
in an unknown land
Molly Ellen lies
safe and sound
'til morning softly calls her.

Who swings so happily
above her bed?
Piglet and owl play
o'er her head
Where Kanga chases Roo for fun.

How can Pooh
be so fat?
And where is Christopher
Robin's hat?
Molly muses peacefully.

Why does Molly beam
so widely?
Blue eyes shining and
face so smiley?
Because she's everybody's darling.

Alice

A wonderland is hard to find
'midst work and play and daily grind
The reason though it's clear to me
Is often hard for all to see
The wonder lies within the mind

To enter there you must believe
In memories hard to retrieve
Of hours of play and lots of fun
Where nothing's lost and all is won
Though that may be hard to conceive

Of days of play and nights of dreams
Of paths of light and tinkling streams
In rabbit's paws a watch clutched tight
His snowy coat a shining white
His fluffy ears like strawberry creams

Where everyone has time to gaze
On flowers and fun-filled halcyon days
On a tiny, chubby, waving hand
Alice has made our wonderland
In life's clock ticking, crazy, maze.

The Christmas Train

Christmas stockings, choo choo trains
Muddy puddles, soggy rains
Dated luggage, stacked outside
We're all going on the Santa ride.

Sian and Molly holding hands,
Christmas fairy, magic wands
At the station, flickering flames
Taking tickets, checking names

Christmas tree with fairy light
Glassy baubles shining bright
Party dresses, patent shoes
Over the bridge no time to lose

Up on the train and to our seats
See the fairy with her magic feats
Glasses of sherry, neat mince pies
It takes a while to realise

That the train is moving side to side
And out of the window we espied
Deer grazing and a flock of birds
There wasn't any need for words

Smiles all round on that happy train
The sun came out and stopped the rain
The man said 'Come he's ready now'
And we all trooped off to see the show

And there he sat in his long white beard
And the children waited to be heard
Sian and Molly were as good as gold
And Santa didn't need to be told

Their looks of wonder told it all
How great it is to be still small
The magic of Christmas still holds true
So a Merry Christmas from me to you

Life

If life is a journey
I'm well on the way
If life is a book
I'll keep turning the page
If life is a mystery I want to explore
from the tip of each mountain to each ocean floor

According to Plato
Be happy and calm
According to Nietsche
We're nought but a bridge
According to Shakespeare
We're all here to play

But I think I know better
My life is an alphabet
And I'm just one letter.

Doune Bay

Searching arms outstretched
Entangling, enticing
Feeling, fondling, falling
Through time and space

A watery capsule
Holding, hallowed, healing
Shining, shimmering curtains of
Bubbling frescoes

Rising, rolling, revealing
The divers exploring
Entering a foreign realm
Blurring the seam

Between real and unreal
Blissfully surreal
They sink, hopefully
Lithesome fish, dancing fronds

Cool caresses calling
Crabs a scurry, in a hurry
Searching beams, liquid light
Scallops chattering with fright

Prickling urchins, yellow stars
Shining in a liquid sky
Iluminating the dancing jellies
Gyrating, pulsating, waiting.

Dyrham Park

And there she stood
replete in burnished red
Scarlet jostling with
crimson 'gainst her dark bough

Leaves feathered and
star-like dropping slowly
Languishing on the
boggy ground

The sound of ducks
Calling, conversing
every now and again
an aircraft subsumes them

A groundswell of leaves
slowly rotting, degenerating
The air cool yet still
awaiting her icy cousin

The crash of apples
tumbling downwards
in their pledge to return as trees

And in the distance
the running water
no longer king
drowned out by traffic.

Belsen

Reverence
No birds
Sunlight streaming through the trees
Mounds covered in flowering heather
Blooms bursting forth
Life from death
Inside the building – posters
A living memorial
Eyes filled with hopelessness and helplessness
Others brimming with strengthh and determination
Strength from weakness
Paths, clean, clear, clinical, encircling their crimes
Burial heaps, hiding, concealing their shame
Nature in communion with the dead revels in blooms
Naked strength forced through the earth
A few butterflies break the code of desertion
Kept by the birds
A clear sky heralding hope but no wings cross it
Deafening silence interrupted by overwhelming echoes
From the past
Trees and monuments salute the corpses
Hastily poured into the tomb
Man's concrete words etched out in sorrow
Cannot express the depth of fear
Felt by the Nazis' silent victims
But the message there is simple
Let us not forget.


- One comment Not publicly viewable

  1. Tilly Harrison

    I think the poem called 'The Princess' is beautiful – I nearly cried!

    14 Oct 2004, 17:35


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