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.

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.

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...

It's A Hard Life

Like steam
from the soup bowl,
their anticipation
had risen at the approach of
meal time.

But they
were left hungry;
one bowl between many
only served to tantalise them
further.

Empty
days and stomachs
were all they could expect
poverty and deprivation
to bring.

Words and picture inspired  by Mag #117, with its image of an original  painting by Paul Gaugin.

Blind Spot

I have a blind spot.
It's not
the usual kind
that you might find
anywhere..
But there,
where my seeing fails,
wind taken from my sails,
I've lost sight of love.
Has push come to shove?
Has the cost
of loving lost
allure?
I'm not sure...
But still I must
trust
love exists.
It would be missed
by more than I,
if it should die.. 

Poetry Jam asked us to consider the word  'blind' - and this is my interpretation.

At The Going Down Of The Sun

Molten gold
burnishes tree tops,
old day dies.


Inspired by Mag #116, where Tess chose an original image by 
R. A. D. Stainforth.

And this morning, Wednesday, I've written and created a different offering for this prompt, over on In Tandem.