What Can I Say?

I search to find which words to say
to cloak ideas that I have found
and wish to share without delay,
for in my mind the dreams abound.

They fill my head and whirl around,
they laugh at me, and come what may,
I search to find which words to say
to cloak ideas that I have found.

And so I struggle every day
until my temples start to pound
as thoughts entrap me with their sound
and tantalise in every way...
I search to find which words to say
to cloak ideas that I have found.

One Stop Poetry is ecouraging us to explore the Rondel poetic form, so here is my somewhat lighthearted offering!
And Rondel is the topic here as well, at Inside My Poem Book! 
I've also linked to The Poetry Pantry - sort of buy two get one free?
 

Blowing Bubbles

This is my home made ticket for The Poetry Bus, as requested by Muse Swings. And now I've linked to The Poetry Pantry too - cheeky me!

Oo, Nasty!

Shrieks of maniacal laughter frightened her awake. A shadow waved in the patch of moonlight on her wall - an enormous hand, with fingers stretching ever closer!



Thanks, MonkeyMan, for supplying the photo for this Sunday 160.

New York, New York!

I live far from New York, I agree,
but what those two words mean to me
is standing on risers,
singing for prize(r)s
that we hoped to win with our song.
New York was a medley, and long...

For my part, I sang Baritone,
but then, I was never alone.
Leads, Tenors and Basses
with smiles on their faces
would see who could get to the end
without any need to pretend
they'd remembered the words
and sung sweet as the birds...
no wrong notes... heaven forefend!
That'd upset our Babershop Blend!

Brian Miller, from One Stop Poetry, brought the words 'New York' to the forefront of my mind when he asked for poems to be written about that very city.  I immediately had a flash back to my Babershopping days, when a medley of songs with multiple key changes challenged the chorus to keep in pitch from beginning to end. 

Friday 55

March Hares danced and leapt and boxed.

The reason why? Well, it had me foxed.

Spring Fever could be what's to blame -

unless they do it for a game. 

A spirited, abandoned bunny

is such a sight - it's really funny-

for sparring without boxing gloves

is the way he woos his lady loves! 

Once again, I join the ranks of G-man's  fifty-fivers!

Thursday Tale #52

by Ruxi at DeviantArt.

The sight of her dying bouquet was too much to contemplate. After the debacle at the church, she’d rushed home, wallowing in a bout of self pity, sadness, but eventually anger. Now, emotion spent, she longed for cool. Still wearing her wedding dress, she joined the spider’s webs that swung gently in the morning mist.

If you read the rules of Thursday Tales, you can submit stories of 55 to 777 words, then visit others who have joined in the fun!

Warring Factions?

In days of old when men were bold they carried swords and shields.
They marched and pillaged and plundered across both plains and fields.

But alongside male machismo, they never tried to hide
(though you may not believe it) their softer, feminine side.

For they lavished decorations on all their tools of war,
used curlicues and tassels like you'd never seen before.

With shiny metal studs and caps that twinkled in the sun,
they hoped to dazzle enemies until the war was won!

Tess came out fighting this week with her Magpie Tales Picture Prompt. To the victor the spoils! LOL. There's a second, serious attempt over on Napple Notes, by way of a change...

In The Beginning

I am enclosed in a bubble of clear water.

My being is transparent, but draws to itself
the living colours of Spring. Light and life
reflect within my soul their pastel beauty.
Edges soften, colours merge together.
I am replete; their nourishment feeds
each particle of my liquid form. I exist.

The Poetry Bus Driver, Uiscebot, this week asked us to go to a new place, and write  a non-rhyming poem from there. I went into a drop of water!

Green, But Not Cabbage Looking

Luck of the Irish?
A four-leaf clover will say
"Here's to Saint Patrick!"

Theme Thursday will be full of Irish Blarney this week!

Angel Dreams

Adrift in dreams, imagination whirls
and lilac angels' wings fly close at hand.
The flower scented air begins to swirl
and lulls us further. We can understand

concepts which, in daytime, make no sense.
For nigh time looses bonds of black or white,
sends technicolour shades in recompense
and melds the boundaries of wrong and right.

When waters of emotion lap the shores
of self expression, artists utilise the wave
of creativity, the swell of power. It draws
new sensibilities  from places they've

visited in Dream Time. Therefore
let us agree to sally forth. Explore!


More violets may be seen at Magpie Tales, thanks to Willow's pretty photo, and I've also linked this to The Poetry Pantry.

Up Above

A satellite bleeps out its sound
but there is nobody around
to heed its warning.

As the planet spins below -
see? - Shining silver forests grow!
The day is dawning.

But the people are now gone.
Because of all that they had done,
plant life is mourning.

This was sparked by the Themed Thursday  subject -'Space'-  I used the space betwen my ears to come up with an offering! LOL
The same inner space produced the following sonnet, which, if you visit  Hilary at The Smitten Image,  has the perfect photo to accompany it.

Together At Day's End

Everything stills as dusk approaches. Light
takes on a sullen hue and clouds gather
forces, ready to battle with the night.
Standing on shore, we two wonder whether
darkness will come between us, draw a veil
over our present joy, shroud it in mist
before morning, once the sky blushes pale
and the shy face of heaven makes a tryst
with daylight. But at this day's end, we find
perfection and peace. One beside the other
in silence we gaze, as though a greater mind
had suddenly taught us how we might discover
duality within a single being, an entity
newly birthed, but already linked with eternity.

Tale Of A Tail

The painting dominated the whole wall. To Tom's young eyes it spoke of dolphins and whales, splashing in waves, playing exactly the way he did with his friends in the swimming pool. He studied it carefully, admiring the graceful curves and colours on the canvas.
Then he noticed a strange sensation creeping through his body -  his arms and legs were turning into flippers and a tail! Suddenly, he was cavorting in the ocean too, a marine creature just like one of them. He raced through the water, leaped high in the air then dived down, down, down into the blue green deeps...
"Tom, Tom! Wake up, son. Breakfast is ready! "

Once again, thanks to Willow and her photoprompt, I had fun with Magpie Tales!

Look, A Book!

With your head in a book
as you take a look
at pictures and words
(serious or absurd)
you'll find ideas grow,
spread out in a row
like tendrils. Pale green
ones I mean!
See how they've grown
from seeds that were sown!
(As you take a look,
with your head in a book!)

With World Book Day barely off the shelf, how appropriate for Monday's Child to use Lissa's illustration this week! Who doesn't like reading in bed?

Poetry Bus For 7th March

The Stammering Poet, Peter Goulding  is going to be in the driving seat on Monday, and for my ticket I've attempted to write a kind of Rondeau though I'm not too sure if the metre is supposed to be as flexible as mine is! Anyhow, the rhyme scheme is as it should be - what more do you want - blood?!

Shrove Tuesday Cometh

Pancake day is fun! You must agree
whether they're for breakfast lunch or tea
both old and young enjoy a feast
of one or two at very least -
or maybe even three!

Imagine you can see
a hungry family -
an empty tummied beast...
Pancake day is fun!

I'm glad I learned to cook at mother's knee
this tried and trusted favourite recipe.
It doesn't include any yeast
or fragrant spices from the East,
only plenty love, for you from me!
Pancake day is fun!

And on the same subject, here's a Sunday 160 for Monkey Man!

The table top is bare, but for plates sticky with lemon slices (squeezed) and sugar grains (scattered). Their flavours enrapture our senses every pancake day.