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.

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.

With Christopher Robin I'd wander along,
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.

Monday's Child #13

 Moontalk

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

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

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.

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?

A Cautionary Tale

Thanks Willow, for Magpie #32


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!

Poetry Bus for 13 September

Colour Therapy

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

P.S. Nobody has spotted that the Bell is an etheree...

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'.

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.

Magpie Tales #31

Who Pays For Prayer?

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.

Poetry Bus for 6th September

Transformation

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"

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.

Poetry Bus At School 23 August

Chalk Ghosts 

Faded visions of the classroom linger.
A blackboard cowers, engrained with ancient dust,
remains of lessons that were never learned.
But a felt-pad wiper-block will rush to smear
chalk mistakes into oblivion, while floorboards
beneath the easel creak a protest at elusive
ghosts of teachers' calligraphic dances.
The battle-scarred desks, disfigured by generations
of rambunctious youth with tear-stained touch,
stand row on row, their lids poised for action.

Empty inkwell eyes challenge intruders -
"Only pencils allowed for budding authors!"

Paper scented, the air scribbles notes
to the nostrils," You will remember me."


This weeks bus driver is Karen of Keeping Secrets - Why not go and see other passengers who will be spilling the beans?

Night Thoughts

REM Sleep

Dreams like dandelion seed heads
drift across the acres of my mind,
flutter in the soft exhalation of breath
that leaves my lips, parted in sleep.

Who knows where the air currents
will carry them, or on which canvas
the colours of my mind will paint
another random, rainbow landscape?

Magpie Tales 29

The Lamp

I hold steadfast vigil at this window,
clothed in red, ceramic solitude,
waiting to light your way through the night;  
my only purpose being to keep you safe
and guide you home once more, to hearth and heart.






To see more Willow inspired tales, go HERE

The First Of Many - I Hope!

I decided I needed a place to call home for my poems to brave the world alone, with only the minimum of extraneous matter. To start the ball rolling, what better than this one, which appeared on a blog yesterday where I am one of a team. It is now destined to go it alone, as my introductory, trial run post. And we all know what a nightmare they can be, if we're not careful...

Pocketed

Red

shiny

snooker balls

cluster tightly

in a triangle.

Like ripe, juicy cherries

sitting plump on green baize ground

they wait for the game to commence.

Cannoning cue ball brakes formation;

one red sphere rolls to meet its destiny.

And as a two for one, special opening offer, here is a rhymed, double etheree to make you start to think of doing one yourself.

The Answer Is No

No
stalling;
rhyme’s calling,
begging my brain
to start work again
on yet another set
of rhyming couplets. So let
battle commence! Get brain in gear
choose words to make the enemy fear
the lash of tongue or mental cut and thrust
designed to conquer, though that be unjust
in what should be a friendly skirmish.
May each foray end as I wish
in compatible joining
of like with like, bringing
harmony to all.
forget the call
to arms. Smile!
Worthwhile,
No?