Rewind

Sometimes a  switch will flick and it sends
you into overdrive; I recognise the
warning signs of a mechanism which
has lost control, as needles oscillate
and register maximum overload.

Unplug wires; reverse polarity
until currents flow unhindered again,
and a temporary peace is achieved.

But still you'll wind me up and reel me in,
with no thought of my deflated spinning
mind, or damaged resolutions inside
my bruised components as the tape replays
an old story, instead of recording
a better history for the future.

Written for Tess and The Mag 223,  
and linked to IGWRT'S Open Link Monday

Artists come in many forms...

Image by courtesy of Hilary at The Smitten Image

            Light weaves tapestries
            to hang as a canopy
            above our bowed heads,
            as we honour the artist
            who created such beauty.

High Fliers

Has your chick fledged?

Teetered on the nest edge,
flapped wings, and flown
before he was full grown?

Perhaps he only fluttered to the ground,
down, down, down...
as you watched his fall,
wanting to call
'Take care!
Remember the air
may be friend, or foe
if you go
too close to the Sun,
Son,
and like Icarus, defy
the ruler of the sky.'

But though high fliers may rise
in search of some glittering prize,
we could never choose
to loose
our concern
that they won't burn...

Without  hatchlings, a nest
looks empty. Best
fill it with a new lining;
forget  pining,
for soon a new brood will come to visit.
Exquisite!

And it so happened, this fitted Wednesday's Toad prompt, too!

The Smile

The dog nudged his nose against the woman's arm, hoping she would feed him scraps from her plate, but she was far too excited at seeing who had come to sit opposite her, to notice this silent begging.
The lackluster day transformed into a Technicolor afternoon, forcing her to smile in recognition of the improvement.

 
Thanks to Tess and Edward Hopper for coming together in the Mag 220, from which this detail took flight. Come Friday, it will be linked to G-Man, too, as it happens to have exactly 55 words! What luck. :-)

Early Bird?

Photographer Unknown

Today, I spotted a Sepia Saturday post, ready for 17 May, and as its subject matter has always been close to my heart, here's my seaside poem, accompanied by a detail from a photo which appeared on Google Images , but without acknowledging the one who clicked the shutter. I thank them, whoever they were.

Sea Edge

In creeps the water,
tickling my toes,
swirling its whirlpools.
But nobody knows
where the sea comes from
or where it all goes.

Was it in China,
or distant Japan
that this pool of ocean’s
blue ripples began?
How many more miles
will they have to span?

How far have they travelled
and how many waves
crashed onto shorelines
or hid inside caves
before they arrived here,
so buoyant and brave?

On Stage

The Play’s The Thing

A sudden shutter clicks and doorways open.
Sunlight lays its hands upon my head
and energy cascades about my form.
It brings a scene shift on the stage of life
and I, as actor, need a different script
to follow.  Playwright, do you heed my words?
The backdrop changes daily. I have learned
that standing in the wings is not enough.
It's time to enter right and play my part.

See IGWRT's  Open Link Monday

Explanation

A replica will not be found in any book...
Look for a dog with big ears, and perhaps,
chaps, you will see what I see.
Heehee! No, not three, but two eyes... and his nose
goes according to plan. Man! He's ugly, though,
so be kind.
Find one small thing to inspire,
fire your imagination. Perhaps his long(ue ?)
tongue (hung left) is panting,
wanting water, or a friend to lick.
Quick!

Who will come to his rescue? Will you, Tess? For it is your Mag 218 which caused his creation thanks to Salvador Dali's equally strange image :-)

At The Going Down Of The Sun

Original Image by Penny Smith

Stillness spreads
over the landscape
as evening
stands poised on the horizon
   of another day.

An edit of something I wrote earlier, updated and posted for Poetry Jam.

Prepare Yourself

Pull up a side table equipped with snack, thermos and mug;
plug in the computer and prepare to feed the muse.
Use words floating in the air
where many books have left reading sessions'
impressions on the room's ambiance.
Dalliance with famous writer's ideas
appears to make our own, grow.
So devour the library from 'aye' to 'zee'.
See? Home comforts will
still be on offer to provide some
fun, as you can (between each scribble)
nibble on another toothsome,
winsome, chocolate coated digestive -
festive fare with style. 
Smile!!

Written for Tess at The Mag 217

Suitcase

Similar image found on eBay

Pack my life in a suitcase,
like one I had as a child,
with brown cardboard corners
rubbed grey and tin handle rattling,
as it lollops side to side
between silver  flip-clips
which open to display
a retro paper lining...

In first, goes a layer of war-torn sounds
to cower in corners.
Cover them with school uniforms
and scatter primrose memories
of picnics in the woods.

Layer paintings from college
with tears from teen dramas, until
confetti and a wedding veil shroud them
in mists of time, and baby powder scent
sends kisses and cuddles whirling
in ever growing spirals towards adulthood.

Tissue paper days of work and ageing,
of living, of loving, of life itself,
sandwich together as I press down
the lid to preserve my memories.

Margaret at IGWRT's set me off on a strange tack today, with her talk of asylums and artistic impressions...I hope my padded cell is ready?!

 “Write a poem that is full of personal emotion, sentiment, longing, confusion… wherever your mind takes you.”

This was a sentence near the end of the diatribe that I chose to focus on, as the rest was too depressing for words, and the mention of all the suitcases left behind did the rest…