NanU has asked us to climb aboard the bus with a ticket written far from our usual poet's corner. As my travelling has been restricted during the past week, thanks to an Autumnal affliction of the germy variety, my choice of venue has been limited, so this is a necessarily short offering which will probably only allow me to travel to the next stop, rather than the end of the line. Ting, ting! Any more fares, please?
I wrote a poem in my head
while lying in my comfy bed -
but it got lost inside my dreams
as I fell asleep, it seems!
Maybe by next week I shall be awake and firing on all cylinders.
19 Oct 2010
14 Oct 2010
Magpie Tales # 36
A door knocker is the first step-
ping stone which rep-
presents friendship on offer.
When we choose to proffer
a welcome smile to one
who has come,
for whatever reason
and in whichever season,
to our home, it can lead
to discovery of a friend in need.
Then we each to each may turn,
should others spurn
compassion, until we see
how a first step can be
what makes two lives flourish,
as both nourish
one another in ways
unimagined during dull days
of loneliness. A door open wide
lets us step outside
our normal sphere
as we say "You're welcome here."
Thanks to Willow at Magpie Tales who opens her door every week to a host of Bloglanders! Follow the link to knock on a few doors yourself.
8 Oct 2010
Poetry Bus for October 11th
"Men perspire, women glow"
we've all heard this before, I know.
But now some Japanese
researchers, if you please,
are measuring the drips of sweat
that perspiring humans get
rid of during exercise.
It will come as no surprise
that men, who sweat the most,
are then able to boast
they are more efficient,
though possibly unpleasant,
due to nasty niffs,
should nearby noses sniff
too hard. Sweating helps bodies perform
well when exercising. That's the norm,
but women cool at a slower rate,
which saves them from dehydrat-
ing (a strategy for survival
in hot climes) while their rival
men are better at working
hard and not shirking
when temperatures rise.
Now, would I tell you lies? (thanks for this suggested edit, Doc!)
For source material, look here:- http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-11492897
The Bus this week is being driven by Nimh B, who asks us to take a news item for our inspiration.
we've all heard this before, I know.
But now some Japanese
researchers, if you please,
are measuring the drips of sweat
that perspiring humans get
rid of during exercise.
It will come as no surprise
that men, who sweat the most,
are then able to boast
they are more efficient,
though possibly unpleasant,
due to nasty niffs,
should nearby noses sniff
too hard. Sweating helps bodies perform
well when exercising. That's the norm,
but women cool at a slower rate,
which saves them from dehydrat-
ing (a strategy for survival
in hot climes) while their rival
men are better at working
hard and not shirking
when temperatures rise.
Now, would I tell you lies? (thanks for this suggested edit, Doc!)
For source material, look here:- http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-11492897
The Bus this week is being driven by Nimh B, who asks us to take a news item for our inspiration.
4 Oct 2010
Microfiction Monday # 51
Although in favour of carbon-free transport, Pegasus decided he'd have to charge a higher tariff, if the number of passengers kept growing.
Thanks to a prompt by Susan at Stony River.
Poetry Bus for 4th October
As TFE's Bus had a little difficulty leaving its garage this week, and produced more than one destination board (not to mention driver) I have chalked up two itineraries- one, thanks to Weaver, who suggested 'Anything' as a subject, the second, thanks to NanU, who chose 'Happiness'. You pays yer money and you takes yer choice of ticket!
Challenge...
To write about anything?
This could be fun -
but nothing is anything...
what a conundrum!
The hole in a doughnut,
the air that we breathe -
both of these subjects
are fair game, you see,
with an 'anything' label.
But, if anything goes,
then all I shall do
is follow my nose,
(or maybe my fingers)
as they dance over keys.
I'll type out some words
in the hope they may please
the other bus passengers
out for a ride on a mystery tour,
as they sit side by side.
I'm sure they'll not moan
at my 'anything' poem -
they'll all be far too busy
wishing they'd stayed at home!
Challenge...
To write about anything?
This could be fun -
but nothing is anything...
what a conundrum!
The hole in a doughnut,
the air that we breathe -
both of these subjects
are fair game, you see,
with an 'anything' label.
But, if anything goes,
then all I shall do
is follow my nose,
(or maybe my fingers)
as they dance over keys.
I'll type out some words
in the hope they may please
the other bus passengers
out for a ride on a mystery tour,
as they sit side by side.
I'm sure they'll not moan
at my 'anything' poem -
they'll all be far too busy
wishing they'd stayed at home!
Catch As Catch Can
Happiness is fleeting; grasp it while you may
but let go of it lightly - it will come another day.
Should you try to keep it, the faster it may flee.
Greet it gladly, say "Hello!"then simply let it be.
Each moment holds potential to yield a greater joy
than any you'd envisioned - one which no one can destroy.
Happiness is fleeting; grasp it while you may
but let go of it lightly - it will come another day.
Should you try to keep it, the faster it may flee.
Greet it gladly, say "Hello!"then simply let it be.
Each moment holds potential to yield a greater joy
than any you'd envisioned - one which no one can destroy.
1 Oct 2010
Magpie Tales # 34
Forgotten
or
You get on my wick...
My amber oil is ready, laced with perfume, rich and heady,
but I'm a spectre at the feast -no use to man nor beast-
for I'm a lamp without a wick, and I need a new one. Quick!
One small strip of plaited cotton! How is it that you have forgotten
that without it, I am dim, cannot give the slightest glim
of gentle, mellow, warming light to illumine your winter's night?
Take pity on my wickless state and rectify this one mistake,
I beg you, help my light to shine, then the pleasure will be mine
to bathe you all from top to toe in my amber scented glow!
To get all lit up, pay a visit HERE , thanks to Willow.
And while on that subject, I'd like to say how sorry I was at missing Willow's Ball, and offer this as an apology!
Well, I missed the ball! Quelle domage!
But in view of my Thursday's occupation,
I might have appeared in my birthday suit
which would have horrified the nation
no end. Therefore, it's just as well
that my invitation fell behind
the bureau, and lay forgotten,
by all except the spider
who spun his web wider
to catch any stray fly
buzzing by.
No doubt many a Prince Charming
spun a different web at the ball
in exactly the way the spider did,
hoping to restock his larder.
or
You get on my wick...
My amber oil is ready, laced with perfume, rich and heady,
but I'm a spectre at the feast -no use to man nor beast-
for I'm a lamp without a wick, and I need a new one. Quick!
One small strip of plaited cotton! How is it that you have forgotten
that without it, I am dim, cannot give the slightest glim
of gentle, mellow, warming light to illumine your winter's night?
Take pity on my wickless state and rectify this one mistake,
I beg you, help my light to shine, then the pleasure will be mine
to bathe you all from top to toe in my amber scented glow!
To get all lit up, pay a visit HERE , thanks to Willow.
And while on that subject, I'd like to say how sorry I was at missing Willow's Ball, and offer this as an apology!
Well, I missed the ball! Quelle domage!
But in view of my Thursday's occupation,
I might have appeared in my birthday suit
which would have horrified the nation
no end. Therefore, it's just as well
that my invitation fell behind
the bureau, and lay forgotten,
by all except the spider
who spun his web wider
to catch any stray fly
buzzing by.
No doubt many a Prince Charming
spun a different web at the ball
in exactly the way the spider did,
hoping to restock his larder.
Big Tent Poetry -Come One Come All 1st October
It's years since I went to a Life Class
so when one was offered nearby,
I decided I'd like to attend it -
give old drawing skills a new try.
The model was young and a dancer,
Oh, how I wanted to draw!
But then a spanner was thrown in the works-
it was something I'd not seen before.
She had to be captured in motion!
No keeping still in one place,
our eyes had to become accustomed
to drawing as though in a race
to freeze frame the shape of a sequence
of steps she repeated in space,
as we focused, and made sure our pencils
were all of them moving in haste.
There was scant chance of getting a likeness;
most of the class were content
to produce a sketch which was merely a plan
of a body, unlike my intent.
But, right at the end of the session,
there was one whole five minute pose.
and I actually managed to draw me a foot -
complete with its five dancer's toes!
Visit Big Tent Poetry to find more performers this week.
23 Sept 2010
Magpie Tales # 33
A Parma Violet Memory
An
ancient
pottery
flagon adorned
Auntie's mantelpiece,
hand painted violets
flaunting their precious petals
to remind us of their perfume,
whose aroma lingered on, wraith-like,
long after the container was empty.
ancient
pottery
flagon adorned
Auntie's mantelpiece,
hand painted violets
flaunting their precious petals
to remind us of their perfume,
whose aroma lingered on, wraith-like,
long after the container was empty.
See more of Willow's flowers HERE
Poetry Bus For September 27th
Thanks to A A Milne
I'm a fan of Piglet, and naturally, of Pooh;
I grew up reading stories of Tigger, Kanga, Roo,
of Rabbit's odd relations in Hundred Acre Wood,
and I would go to join them, if I could...if I could.
We'd go to visit Eyore, in his shelter made of sticks,
then check to see if Tigger was up to his old tricks,
a-bouncing and a-bounding like an India rubber ball,
or climbing up a pine tree, and trying not to fall.
With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...
For more childhood favouites, see other passengers on Rachel's bus this week, and read all about how the Bus got its time table HERE , thanks to TFE.
I'm a fan of Piglet, and naturally, of Pooh;
I grew up reading stories of Tigger, Kanga, Roo,
of Rabbit's odd relations in Hundred Acre Wood,
and I would go to join them, if I could...if I could.
With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...
We'd go to visit Eyore, in his shelter made of sticks,
then check to see if Tigger was up to his old tricks,
a-bouncing and a-bounding like an India rubber ball,
or climbing up a pine tree, and trying not to fall.
With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
in matching boots and braces,
together we'd sing a wandering song
as we visited faraway places...
For more childhood favouites, see other passengers on Rachel's bus this week, and read all about how the Bus got its time table HERE , thanks to TFE.
22 Sept 2010
Monday's Child #13
Every night I dream the sky
has stars and planets rolling by
like marbles, jostling on the ground.
They spin, around, around, around...
Then, my Dog, my Ted and I,
fling up our arms - and we can fly!
We travel out through wide, wide spaces
before we find the moon whose face is
green, but always full of fun. He smiles,
"So glad that you have come!"
Together then, we go exploring,
until we wake up in the morning!
For more of BKM's children go HERE
19 Sept 2010
Poetry Bus for 20th September
Tenderness
Come, let me hold you now
encircled in my arms
body's skin to warming skin
to create a sum of one.
Your head lies in the hollow of my shoulder
and your breathing plays a rhapsody of night,
music that will complement our dreaming
as we drift upon its currents of delight.
Come, let me hold you now,
keeping you from harm,
enfolded by the love we share
until the day is come.
See more offerings HERE
Come, let me hold you now
encircled in my arms
body's skin to warming skin
to create a sum of one.
Your head lies in the hollow of my shoulder
and your breathing plays a rhapsody of night,
music that will complement our dreaming
as we drift upon its currents of delight.
Come, let me hold you now,
keeping you from harm,
enfolded by the love we share
until the day is come.
See more offerings HERE
18 Sept 2010
Twelve Word Puzzle for Friday 17th
What Is Your Plea?
The judge declared, a little fraught,
"Silence in court! Silence in court!"
while in the dock the child stood crying,
twisting her skirt, there's no denying.
His chant, like a swarm of angry bees humming,
had set her temple pulse a-thrumming.
She clutched at her skirt, which was embellished
with debris from food she'd half-eaten with relish.
But while her eyes flashed with indignant light
she stood to give evidence from her short height
and gave her temporary answer -
"It wasn't me! It was my Aunt, Sir!"
Then straightening her backbone, despite her fear,
She added "Please, let me out of here?"
Okay, so I added and extra 'ed' - what are you going to do to me?! This is my offering for the Big Tent this week.
17 Sept 2010
Memory Box
Locked Out
Rusted metal: a missing key:
both keep you away from me,
O treasured keepsakes, in a box
which time imprisons with its locks
on memory. No longer keen,
this dwells upon those things unseen
for many moons. Have I forgot?
Do I dream of what was not,
in mis-remembered pastel haze
of those distant glory days?
16 Sept 2010
A Cautionary Tale
A Question Of Timing,
or
Too Little Too Late.
They say I've an hourglass figure, but I know this might end up a lie.
I think that my middle is growing and could be a bump, by and by.
A baby's a lovely addition to a family unit, they say,
but a possible solitary parent may think "Oh, no! Lack-a-day!"
(or similar phrases of horror) at losing their singleton state.
But I have a sneaking suspicion I've left all the choices too late,
for instead of "Goodbye", I said "Hello! Come in!"
Now I'm thinking I've earned me the wages of sin!
13 Sept 2010
Poetry Bus for 13 September
On a red day
I painted poppies:
ate sweet strawberries:
pricked my finger.
On a yellow day
I picked celandines:
nibbled toasted cheese:
danced with sunbeams.
On a blue day
I tossed a kite in the sky:
bought blueberry muffins:
floated in the ocean.
Then on a grey day
I watched clouds gather,
tasted raindrops,
saw pavements glisten
as an arched rainbow
gathered each colour
into its outstretched arms,
making this the best of days.
The Poetry Bus will be hard to miss as it hoves into view this morning, splashed with all the colours of the rainbow thanks to Marion, this week's driver. After taking a leaf from my portfolio, already inscribed with the above lines, I turned back to my palette to create this panoply of paint, which rang my bell...
Ding Dong
red
yellow
pink lime jade
gold silver bronze
blue burgundy rose
orange tangerine rust
lilac purple cobalt puce
mauve magenta veridian
turquoise lavender cerulean
ultramarine chartreuse chocolate brown
pink lime jade
gold silver bronze
blue burgundy rose
orange tangerine rust
lilac purple cobalt puce
mauve magenta veridian
turquoise lavender cerulean
ultramarine chartreuse chocolate brown
P.S. Nobody has spotted that the Bell is an etheree...
10 Sept 2010
Big Tent Poetry Prompt - Come One Come All 10 Sep + A 55 for G-Man
Things I should have said?
Important words -'I love you'.
Instead, I said 'No'.
Important words -'I love you'.
Instead, I said 'No'.
See more offerings HERE
As it seems to fit with this subject, I'm adding a Flash Fiction 55 for The G-Man, so this is a two-for-one Friday!
Argument
The words came out wrong; inside, anger roiled until, like a volcano, an eruption of emotion flung skywards, to fall as embers in my soul. What use was this whitehot passion with so much dark magma as its bedrock?
All the tears in the world would not be enough to cool such a heat.
P.S. I suddenly realised I had the 55 written out in five lines of ten words, plus five, to make counting easier - Oh No! I inadvertently commited the crime against which Mrs T is adamant! It wasn't ever intended to be a 'poem', only prose. Editor is now on top of things.
As it seems to fit with this subject, I'm adding a Flash Fiction 55 for The G-Man, so this is a two-for-one Friday!
Argument
The words came out wrong; inside, anger roiled until, like a volcano, an eruption of emotion flung skywards, to fall as embers in my soul. What use was this whitehot passion with so much dark magma as its bedrock?
All the tears in the world would not be enough to cool such a heat.
P.S. I suddenly realised I had the 55 written out in five lines of ten words, plus five, to make counting easier - Oh No! I inadvertently commited the crime against which Mrs T is adamant! It wasn't ever intended to be a 'poem', only prose. Editor is now on top of things.
9 Sept 2010
Magpie Tales #31
The cloistered nun, content with contemplation,
turns her back upon the world of strife.
Her time is spent in prayer and meditation,
far removed from others' mundane life.
Not for her, to face the stress of living
as part of humdrum, secular pursuits.
Her mind is focused on a Higher Being,
but do her silent labours then bear fruit?
Who can judge how many prayers are heeded?
Do they have a value, quite unknown,
though Earth is full of millions who needed
a practical approach - one clearly shown?
How much will prayers help the sick and dying
in flooded lands, or those beset by drought,
where day by day folks constantly are trying
to stave off death, and keep diseases out?
Maybe elusive prayers send out vibrations
which resonate in rescue workers' hearts,
to travel past the boundaries of nations,
until, united, all can play their part...
For more Magpie Tales go HERE where Willow has let us see through the square window.
Who can judge how many prayers are heeded?
Do they have a value, quite unknown,
though Earth is full of millions who needed
a practical approach - one clearly shown?
How much will prayers help the sick and dying
in flooded lands, or those beset by drought,
where day by day folks constantly are trying
to stave off death, and keep diseases out?
Maybe elusive prayers send out vibrations
which resonate in rescue workers' hearts,
to travel past the boundaries of nations,
until, united, all can play their part...
For more Magpie Tales go HERE where Willow has let us see through the square window.
5 Sept 2010
Poetry Bus for 6th September
Once, a doorway opened in my mind,
perception altered by a secret key.
In meditative state, new worlds I found,
inhabited each one by shades of me.
They could not help but form a common bond,
thus I became who I was meant to be.
It seems I had a psychic link to the subject for this week, as I did a post here before the driver had announced what it was! Hence my second, much shorter offering above. To clip the tickets of other passengers, or to climb aboard yourself, go HERE.
Thanks to Trans4mind for the apt image!
Thursday 9 September. I have just found this quote on Marion's delightful blog , and pray the originator understands why I needed to add it here!
""Sometimes I pretend to be normal, but it gets boring and I go back to being me"
3 Sept 2010
Magpie Tales
Once Bitten
Minnie loved her Doctor,
so when she felt unwell
she trotted off to see him
in the hope that he could tell
which nasty bugs had bitten her
and made her feel like hell.
"Ah, yes, I see the problem"
said Doc, quite unperplexed.
But Minnie did not understand,
so went home feeling vexed.
She bit into an apple,
then remembered with dismay,
that if she ate one daily,
it might keep the Doc away!
What if she should need him
in the middle of the night,
should her symptoms escalate?
Would she be alright?
So she rushed to drop the apple
after taking just one bite!
Go HERE to see more Magpies.
I think this video needs to be added here!
Friday 55
Overhead, stars circled the darkness as the Man pursued his
chosen route towards the mountain top. The incline steepened until his muscles trembled with the effort of each step. He must reach the pinnacle before sun-up or his endeavour would be wasted.
Only human sacrifice to Helios could ensure the ultimate goal - his Tribe's safety.
For more Flash Fiction stories, go here to see The G-Man.
chosen route towards the mountain top. The incline steepened until his muscles trembled with the effort of each step. He must reach the pinnacle before sun-up or his endeavour would be wasted.
Only human sacrifice to Helios could ensure the ultimate goal - his Tribe's safety.
For more Flash Fiction stories, go here to see The G-Man.
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