31 Jul 2012

Confused? What, Me?

 After a frustrating morning when email problems caused hassles I would rather forget, I happened to see that Theme Thursday had the word 'Confusion' for this week, to set everybody thinking - me, included. But that was fatal, for as you will see, my thoughts were what became confused, and this was the result. Be thankful if yours never treat you in the same fashion... 

Bats in the belfry, perhaps... 

If down was up and up was down,
how would we all get around?
Would we tiptoe on our ears,
use our feet to change the gears
of daily living?

Hands would be like stabilizers,
soles would be the supervisors
over paths that lay ahead
of our upside-downside heads.
Luscious locks would sweep the floor,
but baldies crowns might cry "No more!
I cannot stand this rough terrain!
Put me right side up again!"

You see, my thoughts are in confusion
when lunacy makes an intrusion
to my any-which-way head.
I think I should have stayed in bed -
for horizontal gives the lie
to up or down.

Now, I must fly...

Goodbye!


And to cause more of the same, Mrsupole's  linky list will not appear until later this week - but here I am now. How far will the confusion spread in the interim?
And  today, Friday, I've just re-discovered a poem I wrote two years ago on this same subject, so thought I'd add it here as a late edition extra.


Confused? Let me help you!

It doesn't take much to make confusion reign,
for my brain has a habit of leaping
much faster to an end result
than the brain of the one who is speaking.

Now, sometimes that's me- more often another-
as an answer does tend to evolve
in less than a twinkling, as often as not,
to any old question we're trying to solve.

Then I see by the mystified look on their face
that my pal's in the dark, not the dawn,
whilst I have already completed the race
and am standing about with a yawn

till they reach a conclusion that's similar to mine,
though I've already got there in half of the time!

30 Jul 2012

Time To Count 140




Here are one hundred and forty telling characters for Grandma's Goulash:-

Today, this picture made me ponder, people. I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions; I'd say the stairway to heaven is longer.

28 Jul 2012

A Grand Entrance


Mr Bond beside the Queen
in a copter?  What a scene!
British humour at its best
is always better than the rest,
never mind ‘who gets what’ gold,
when a story need be told
our G.B. is right in line
to tell a cracker, every time-
cinema, literature, theatre too-
We’re a very arty crew.

A 55 for G-Man - late, but worth it!

22 Jul 2012

In Philosophical Mood...

Energy,
seeking direction,
falls to earth
from heaven.
Will mankind harness power
for the good of all?

Thanks to Tess and her Mag 127 image by Franz Kline. I've also shared this with The Poetry Pantry.

8 Jul 2012

Noonday

Summer heat
swirls round field and hill;
contours burn.

Siesta
holds an arid land
in stasis.


Words and picture inspired by Tess and Thomas Hart Benton at Mag 125

1 Jul 2012

The Diva


The heart of the Diva with the ruby earring
would sing
long after she had left
the stage. Her audience, feeling bereft,
demanded  an encore,
but "Less is more"
was her motto; though I must mention
how much their attention
had pleased her,
filled her
secret self with  joy.


A table at the Savoy
had been booked by the young man who'd sent
the present,
with a note inviting her to dine
after the show. "Divine!"
was the word which escaped her lips.
Nothing could eclipse
her delight  as she entered his carriage,
one thought in her mind - marriage!

This may be where you all begin to sing"Do not trust him, gently maiden!" But we will assume all is well, and simply say 'Thank you' to Tess and Odilion Redon at Mag 124, where you can see how others interpreted the prompt. 
Also posted to Poetry Pantry 105

24 Jun 2012

Ice Man?

An avalanche shroud;
protruding from frozen ground,
frost blackened fingers.

Mag 123 gave us a black and white image full of menace...Thanks, Tess!
This is my interpretation...

23 Jun 2012

The Joke's On Me

This is my version
of an imaginary person.
I will call her Jinx.
The name stinks,
for it reeks of pranks -
the kind folks murmur "No thanks!"
to; folks on whom tricks,
like a ton of bricks,
fall flat.
Splat!
Ones who missed out on the gene
for humour. Know what I mean?
Jinx, on the other hand,
can understand
how a quick quip
can nip
into a conversation
like a well placed decoration,
cause a smile or a giggle
without causing a wriggle
of unease.
She likes to please,
make the world a better place
by bringing a smile to its face!

Fireblossom, at IGWRT asked for a newly written poem about someone who inspires us. Hehehe! So here you are... sort of...

20 Jun 2012

Swansong?

If life were a film, our mistakes
could be out-takes.
Bloopers?  Cut!
What a mutt!
Did I fall into the trap
of meeting the wrong chap
in my teens,
saying goodby to dreams?
But times change.
We re-arrange
expectations and realise,
to our surprise,
life lead to 'now'!
Wow!
Beyond Mother Hen days, life starts again.
The feathered nest with no rest
transmutes to a time when 'us' and 'we'
shrinks to 'me', and I may at last fly...

Finally written today in response to Poetry Jam,  but with IGWRT in mind, all along!

10 Jun 2012

No Message In A Bottle!

 
For all my Blogpals, everywhere, a little thought that was inspired by Tess and her prompt picture by Jean François de Le Motte, at Mag 121.

I've nailed my colours to the mast; 
so this note will reach you fast.
It sails across the sea to say 

"I hope you have a happy day!"

4 Jun 2012

The Green Man

In realms of myth and fantasy the Green Man has survived.
From far away as pagan times I think he's lived and thrived
within the minds of country folk, through good times, or through bad,
and this kind of longevity is anything but sad.
Fruitful gifts of mother earth have morphed into a man
in this, my painted image - ignore him if you can!

Thanks to Tess at Mag 120 and Klaus Enrique Gerdes, whose image below sparked all of the above!


31 May 2012

Light V. Dark

A blind, half pulled down, curtains, 
half drawn, maintain privacy
but let outsiders see the light
which, by night, stems lunacy.

For darkness encourages
many stages of madness;
wild imaginings which seem
to tinge dreams with their sadness

as daylight fades from the sky
and we humans shy away
from phantoms and other shades
which we may ignore by day.

Detail from a painting by Edward Hopper, which featured in Mag 119 thanks to Tess. I've tried to follow a rhyme scheme used in Welsh poetry, which was first brought to my notice on Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.

20 May 2012

Allez-oop!

Their nerves have been conquered, the battle is won;
two barefoot artistes are finally done.
Now, these high-wire acrobats bow to the crowd
who clap and applaud them. The music sings loud
from brassy gold instruments glinting in lights
of the circus Big Tent, this Saturday night.

Children and parents on ranged tiers of seats
anticipate multiple breathtaking feats
thanks to animal trainers, to jugglers, to clowns,
to spangle-clothed ladies who jump up, then down
from galloping horses which race round and round
while the ringmaster's whip cracks its pistol shot sound.

The colour and movement both serve to enhance
the skill of performers who thrill and entrance
every new audience, day after day,
till it's time for the circus to be on its way.
Then the tents and the caravans all disappear -
and folks are heard shouting "Come back next year!"



Words and picture inspired by Mag #118, thanks to Tess and Marc Chagall.

17 May 2012

Fire! Fire!

In 1079, William the Conqueror designated the New Forest, in Hampshire, as a royal forest and hunting ground., and you can read more about its history if you click HERE.

I found many photos on the web, including this free one... But idyllic as it seems, there is a darker side to this well known beauty spot, where life sometimes hangs in the balance, and this is what prompted me to write a series of shadormas for Poetry Jam today.

For any who have yet to encounter one of these, let me explain. It is a six line, unrhymed 'verse'  whose syllable count follows this pattern: 3/5/3/3/7/5.

And the second photo tells its own story...

Ponies graze;
the forest is theirs
and freedom
to wander
has been an unquestioned right
for centuries past.

Dry summer
is an enemy;
potential
to kill lurks
among fronds of dead bracken's 
natural tinder.

Unwary,
unthinking humans
cause chaos,
their litter
ready to spark disaster,
and let loose fire...