Invisible in country dark, the birds
had pegged the notes of songs among the leaves,
like flower garlands hung on high to dry.
In crescendo, sprouting buds full bloomed
then died as petal echoes touched my ears,
enchanting them with musical perfume.
The darkling mystery of night revealed
its secrets, as shifting moon and stars revolved,
and lit arpeggios with silver mists.
For Day #16 at Writer's Island and linked to Poetry Pantry #45
16 Apr 2011
14 Apr 2011
#14
Silk ribbon river;
moon-boat sails with star cargo,
highlights spring blossom.
moon-boat sails with star cargo,
highlights spring blossom.
For today's Freewrite at Writer's Island, as well as One Shot Wednesday.
13 Apr 2011
A Passing Thought On Things Past
The Dodo was an ugly bird.
I'm pretty sure you will have heard
that he is totally extinct,
no matter how much we may thinct
he shouldn't be.
According to the notes I found with this illustration, it shows an almost complete skeleton of a Dodo, put together from bones collected by Mr George Clark which he found in a marshy pool in Mauritius. In front is seen a dried foot of a specimen which was brought alive to Europe at some time in the sixteen hundreds. Both foot and skeleton are in the National History Museum.
Apologies to One Shot Poetry Wednesday for this light hearted snippet on a dull day, which is day #13 at Writer's Island.
11 Apr 2011
Windsong
Summer breeze
blusters the daisies,
tosses trees,
chases clouds,
and echoes children's laughter
while it tugs their hair.
This is written in the form of a Spanish Shadorma, poetry which has six lines lines of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables.
It's for bkm's Monday's Child prompt in which she gave us this picture by Florence Edith Storer.
blusters the daisies,
tosses trees,
chases clouds,
and echoes children's laughter
while it tugs their hair.
This is written in the form of a Spanish Shadorma, poetry which has six lines lines of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables.
It's for bkm's Monday's Child prompt in which she gave us this picture by Florence Edith Storer.
Zig-Zag
I am a crooked line.
I slalom throughout time,
till I stop at vantage points
of each remembered 'now'.
I salvage scorched images
as their embers flame
and burn each new reality
into the time-line of my life.
A Bug's Eye View has us following a strange route today to buy our tickets for the Poetry Bus! Let's hope she knows how to drive in a straight line, though! LOL
I'm having second thoughts on this one , so have decided to add the first draft of my idea, and then ask readers for their thoughts... This is what I wrote originally:-
“I am a crooked line. I swerve through time like a slalom, till my mind stops at a vantage point for the NOW I choose to remember. An ember flames and burns a new reality into the time line of my life. It scorches images which can be realigned, in straight or crooked lines.”
Then my Poetry Guru suggested using slalom as a verb, which I agree made more sense, as did his dispensing with 'my mind' by simply saying 'I', for who is 'my mind, if not 'I' ? Once more I thank him for his clear sighted thinking!
And I've tucked this into The Poetry Pantry, as well...
I slalom throughout time,
till I stop at vantage points
of each remembered 'now'.
I salvage scorched images
as their embers flame
and burn each new reality
into the time-line of my life.
A Bug's Eye View has us following a strange route today to buy our tickets for the Poetry Bus! Let's hope she knows how to drive in a straight line, though! LOL
I'm having second thoughts on this one , so have decided to add the first draft of my idea, and then ask readers for their thoughts... This is what I wrote originally:-
“I am a crooked line. I swerve through time like a slalom, till my mind stops at a vantage point for the NOW I choose to remember. An ember flames and burns a new reality into the time line of my life. It scorches images which can be realigned, in straight or crooked lines.”
Then my Poetry Guru suggested using slalom as a verb, which I agree made more sense, as did his dispensing with 'my mind' by simply saying 'I', for who is 'my mind, if not 'I' ? Once more I thank him for his clear sighted thinking!
And I've tucked this into The Poetry Pantry, as well...
10 Apr 2011
Moonstruck
Once in a blue moon is not always right,
for the moon was bright red on the still summer night
when for the first time I found there was you.
Red and not blue.
for the moon was bright red on the still summer night
when for the first time I found there was you.
Red and not blue.
A happy thought written in 160 characters for Monkey Man and now added to The Poetry Pantry as well.
7 Apr 2011
In Your Face
Thanks to learnersdictionary.com |
On your face a nose that's runny
can be nasty, it is true.
and all that you can do
is blow it.
But if your face is sunny,
giving smiles instead of money,
don't keep it to yourself
stuck indoors upon a shelf,
go show it.
Turn into a happy bunny
and, like buzzy bees make honey,
life will suddenly be sweeter
for such a meet-and-greeter!
I know it.
Theme Thursday has cosen the word FACE today, so I hope this puts a smile on yours!
6 Apr 2011
From Dark To Light
Illustration by stainedglass-artists.co.uk |
and the moving shadows prance
across the wall and round my bed,
then I look at them askance
and tell them not to bother me
with their eerie, waving dance.
I'd rather watch the moonbeams
as they slant in silver swathes
and light up dreamland's ocean,
full of gentle rippling waves
that glint under the moonlight
in which the whole world bathes.
Into this magic world of light
which moon and stars keep forming,
come colourful, contented dreams
for company, till morning,
when cheery sunbeams tell me
that another day is dawning.
This has been written for One Shot Poetry Wednesday over at One Stop Poetry- Where Poets, Writers & Artists Meet.
This is really a companion poem to the Ocean Dreamland one I wrote on Monday, and I've linked both to Poetry Pantry.
4 Apr 2011
Ocean Dreamland
I steer through seas by moonlight
from the top deck of my bed.
Across the Ocean Dreamland
the stars and moon both shed
their silver beams before me,
while the breezes cool my head.
I sometimes see a mermaid,
seaweed twined into her hair,
and tiny pearls for earrings...
I know it's rude to stare,
but she is Oh! - so pretty -
it's like magic, I declare!
She sings of sandy seashells,
secret caves below the sea.
where scuttling crabs and starfish
play, and never think of me
as my vessel cuts the water
and makes the dolphins flee.
But when the moon is waning
and the sun is getting near,
my ship sails back to harbour,
drops its anchor, so that we're
ready for the next day's end,
my ship and I, right here!
Thanks to bkm at Monday's Child who used this 1900's picture by Ethel Mars and Maud Hunt Squire for her prompt this week. I've also linked this to Poetry Pantry.
from the top deck of my bed.
Across the Ocean Dreamland
the stars and moon both shed
their silver beams before me,
while the breezes cool my head.
I sometimes see a mermaid,
seaweed twined into her hair,
and tiny pearls for earrings...
I know it's rude to stare,
but she is Oh! - so pretty -
it's like magic, I declare!
She sings of sandy seashells,
secret caves below the sea.
where scuttling crabs and starfish
play, and never think of me
as my vessel cuts the water
and makes the dolphins flee.
But when the moon is waning
and the sun is getting near,
my ship sails back to harbour,
drops its anchor, so that we're
ready for the next day's end,
my ship and I, right here!
Thanks to bkm at Monday's Child who used this 1900's picture by Ethel Mars and Maud Hunt Squire for her prompt this week. I've also linked this to Poetry Pantry.
What The Eyes See...
Rain on glass and drops on skin -
or outside a shower looking in?
Imagination could make this rude
if it decided to see a nude
torso captured in this shot.
Is it a body, or is it not?
Maybe its no more than fingers
behind a pane where rain still lingers...
Of course, it could be a shower of meteorites heading towards a dusty planet, but I leave that option to the star gazers amongst you, to interpret within their Magpie poem for Tess this week!
or outside a shower looking in?
Imagination could make this rude
if it decided to see a nude
torso captured in this shot.
Is it a body, or is it not?
Maybe its no more than fingers
behind a pane where rain still lingers...
Of course, it could be a shower of meteorites heading towards a dusty planet, but I leave that option to the star gazers amongst you, to interpret within their Magpie poem for Tess this week!
3 Apr 2011
The Eyes Have It
The eye of the camera sees only those things chosen by the photographer. Its iris opens and closes on demand with predetermined speed and aperture, to capture upside down shapes on its retina. The human eyes and brain behind the lens use imagination to produce the completed picture; they have final control of the image.
These 55 words were written for One Stop Poetry who have today featured the work of photographer India Hobson.
These 55 words were written for One Stop Poetry who have today featured the work of photographer India Hobson.
2 Apr 2011
Bushbaby - Or A Baby Bush?
Titus The Dog is in charge of the next Poetry Bus, and chose a list of animal subjects for us to write our tickets for Monday. One of them was 'Bushbaby' which shot the Jinksy mind into warp mode, hence a double helping of Lear Lunacy - the real kind, and my copycat variety.
It's a well known fact that a bird in the hand
is always worth two in a bush.
But a Bush Baby? Man! That's a toughie you see-
But a Bush Baby? Man! That's a toughie you see-
exactly how small need a Baby Bird be
to fit in a Bush that's a mere Baby Tree?
to fit in a Bush that's a mere Baby Tree?
The answer is unclear to me!
A zebra with stripes on his back,
to face paint had not learned the knack,
he tried a disguise
but it was no surprise
when he popped his head into a sack.
A penguin who answered to 'Billy',
was laughed at for looking quite silly
when on tail, feet and hands
he wore bright, knitted bands
to save them from getting too chilly.
A camel was trying to jump,
but was blessed with a very large hump
which hampered his spring -
and (here's the sad thing)
he fell back to earth with a bump
Sidney Snake was afraid of the dark,
so we frightened him just for a lark.
We made such a din
that he jumped from his skin,
to rush naked around a car park.
A monkey who felt rather frail
thought it time that he learned to abseil
but when faced with the ropes
he relinquished his hopes
and continued to swing by his tail.
Percy Pig loved to hide in a wallow
with more mud than a hippo could swallow,
for he knew he'd be free
from both you and from me,
for none but the bravest would follow.
And as an extra, here are a few additional Animal Limericks, for fun.
A zebra with stripes on his back,
to face paint had not learned the knack,
he tried a disguise
but it was no surprise
when he popped his head into a sack.
A penguin who answered to 'Billy',
was laughed at for looking quite silly
when on tail, feet and hands
he wore bright, knitted bands
to save them from getting too chilly.
A camel was trying to jump,
but was blessed with a very large hump
which hampered his spring -
and (here's the sad thing)
he fell back to earth with a bump
Sidney Snake was afraid of the dark,
so we frightened him just for a lark.
We made such a din
that he jumped from his skin,
to rush naked around a car park.
A monkey who felt rather frail
thought it time that he learned to abseil
but when faced with the ropes
he relinquished his hopes
and continued to swing by his tail.
Percy Pig loved to hide in a wallow
with more mud than a hippo could swallow,
for he knew he'd be free
from both you and from me,
for none but the bravest would follow.
31 Mar 2011
Say Cheese!
As he tried to compose a sonnet for his lady love, the overwhelming smell from the ripe cheese stopped him with pen raised. How could he think romantic thoughts when his supper invaded his nostrils? It was meant to invade his stomach, along with a crusty baguette and a glass or two of red wine!
These are my 55 words for Thursday Tales, thanks to their prompt of this picture by Daniel Hayman at Deviant Art.
And of course, 55 is the magic number for Mr Knowitall's Friday Fifty Five - what luck!
And of course, 55 is the magic number for Mr Knowitall's Friday Fifty Five - what luck!
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