Starlight Express?

 Or Weaver's Poetry Bus for the week? For a ticket, passengers were asked to take the word 'STAR' for their inspiration. I'm cheating. Many years ago, I was walking home after a long drawn out, quartet singing session at a neighbour's house, and the following lines were the result, so my ticket is well thumbed already!


2 a.m.

Clear night sky;
frost filled moonlight
cutting cold across the land.

Sounds are honed
to a knife-sharp fineness
by the icy, silent air. Stars,
bright as polished steel,
blaze white hot
through light year distances,
linking Earth to Infinity.

The sudden, brilliant arc
of a falling meteorite
underlines their beauty
and marks a point of no return.

Magpie Tales # 45

Celebration

Evening dark enfolds the waiting city.
Children dream, perhaps of Santa Claus,
while juke-box music churns its tuneless ditties
into the streets where nobody gives pause
to think of Christmas.

The midnight hour solemnly approaches;
a small group congregates in vacant pews,
their measured footsteps rhythmically encroaching
upon a silence echoing with the news
of that first Christmas.

Around the crib the candlelight is flickering,
but muted organ notes cannot compete
with raucous sound of angry voices bickering
from drunken revellers outside in the street.
Can this be Christmas?

Expectant landscape waits for welcome silence,
as moon and stars continue on their way
around a world beset with wars and violence
which needs the gift of Peace as much today
as that first Christmas.

Wilow's prompt for Magpie Tales this week reminded me of these verses I wrote way back. I have posted them before on Napple Notes, but they remain as pertinent as at their first appearance, and it will do no harm to give them another airing, as visiting commenters vary each year...

Heavens!

The Poetry Bus , being driven  by Titus, is now on the road. I've thumbed a lift after watching the very clever video which made me think I'd never be able to buy a legitimate ticket if I used the first set of words that filled my mind - they were too surreal! Instead, I've written the following ones on the thumb with which I hope to flag down the bus!

Cosmic

Your fingers caress the black and white keys;
rhythms of life cradled between your hands
fill the universe with stars. They light candles
in my mind as Earth and Sky and Sea
all merge within the music of your love.


Blue waters of awareness circle round
and oceans create life from out its depths.
The heavens spin with stars and melody
which nourishes the universal song,
until its spark ignites a wonder in us all.

Microfiction Moday # 61

A washboard, a tub and a girl (called Dolly?) washing doll's clothes?
What ever happened to Women's Lib and washing machines?



Thanks once more go to Stony River for prompting a typical Jinksy reply to this week's Microfiction Monday challenge of writing a little something in less than 150 characters. Feel free to count them if you must, but I assure you they're well within the guidelines!

One More For Big Kids

Ernest Aris 1947

Hopping Mad?

Six rabbits in search of a burrow
hopped all the way up to Harrow
but when they got there,
they cried out in despair -
the only one left was too narrow!

Thanks to BKM for this week's prompt over at Monday's Child. Okay, so it's Wednesday, but who's counting?

Seeing Is Believing?

In such a white out,
above snow covered country
the pilot was lost.

Another Ticket For The Poetry Bus

This week it is driven by Kat, who is expecting Pub related offerings, and here is my little tail ...er...tale of a tail, I mean...

The Red Lion

Some lion cubs frolicked 

and chased their own tails

but suddenly one of them 

loosed a great wail.

"Ouch!" I've been bitten! 

My tail has turned red!

And he ran in a circle, 

"Look how it has bled!"

The lion pride laughed 

and one smart arse cub

said "Cor! Now you're 

just like the name of the Pub!"

Microfiction Monday # 60

The latest fad for having matching 'His n' Hers' sets can be un peu de trop, when taken to extremes.



Thanks to Susan at Stony River for this gruesome but fun MFM!

"Weird"

How could I miss a chance like that? Write something weird is the request of Poets United Thursday Think Tank # 25. Hope this will do...

Spellcheck Nightmare

Writing flopsibitses
is what I do the best.
Ordnidapso poems
don't put you to the test,
but wofflynumblit dodits
of scrudabompy zest
will fill your squoozy moments
much better than the rest.
My keyboard lollyfrangles
and my brains get foglymessed
and my fingers danglycobble,
they really are a pest.
But underneath the splayjin
I'm absolutely sure
my no-pollipty nonsense
is no dafter than before.

Another Snowy Scene

That is Willow's Magpie Tales topical choice for this week of less than tropical weather we are experiencing in the UK - and elswhere, I guess!

The steps to your door,
even when covered with snow,
spread warmth in my heart.