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!
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...
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. Editoris now on top of things.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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?
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.
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?