1st March 2015

Reformed
the Baptist Church.
What was it before - Wild?
If it was it would attract more
sinners.

28th February 2015

When did looking forward change to looking back?
When did having all the time in the world change to
how long have I got? Or at least how long will I be able?

When did I become part of the older generation
worrying about pensions and heating bills
and people give up seats for me as if I were unable?

When did my hands turn into my Grandmother's
wrinkled with liver spots and deep blue veins?
I look in my mirror on the dressing table

When did I grow old?

27th February 2015

Slippers

I try so hard to do my best for you
simply wanting you to be content
at ease in your surroundings
my intentions all well meant.

Why has it gone wrong, you on edge
taking off at top speed without thought?
Flooring me as if you don't care at all
my happy plans have come to naught.

I can't keep getting this so wrong
I will give it one last try
If it's not really meant to be
do we have to say goodbye?

26th February 2015

creative writing
scribbling words onto a pad
not making much sense!

25th February 2015

line of leafless trees
swaying in the evening breeze
the birds flown away

24th February 2015

'What walking aids do you want'? She asks.
'Only you' he replies reaching for her arm,
the morning walk, love's small rituals.

Seventy years since they took their first walk.
In those days she held his arm as a trophy,
her handsome sailor boy home from the sea.

Over time their love has changed. Evolved into
daily rituals, dependence on each other, and
a dread, never discussed, of one of them dying.

When that time comes, as it must come to us all
so many small rituals undertaken without a word
will be missed. Most of all the morning walk.

23rd February

Religious differences drove us apart,
I really don't mean to be flippant.
A beautiful friendship now on the rocks
He thought he was God and I didn't.

22nd February 2015

what is poetry
but the language of the heart
written on paper

21st February 2015

A string of pearls given to celebrate her birth,
gifted by a maiden aunt who'd worn them
as a betrothal gift from her young man
who did not survive the Somme.

As a child she would play with the pearls
winding them round the neck of dolly
until her mother locked them away
far too precious for play.

Her thoughts went to her long dead aunt as
her mother placed the pearls around her neck.
Now a grown up girl on her wedding morn
Pearls kept safe for her first born.

20 February 2015

hidden in notebooks
left to age like fine wine is
their time has not yet come

19th February 2015

Wordsmith revisited

Practicing your alchemy, wooing me with words,
changing leaden lumpy verse into streams of gold,
you enthrall me, hypnotise me, weave me in your spell
within the hidden meanings my fate you will foretell.

Your honeyed tongue caresses, brings me to my knees
bewitches and beguiles do with me as you please
I walk in dreams, my head is filled with words meant just for me
pour molten gold into my soul for all eternity.

18th February 2015

Wordsmith

Practicing your alchemy, wooing me with words,
changing leaden lumpy text into streams of gold,
you enthrall me, hypnotise me, weave me in your spell
within the hidden meanings my fate you will foretell.

'Fine words butter no parsnips' Granny used to say,
she was wrong, the passion strong, my life no longer grey.
I walk in dreams, my head is filled with words meant just for me
pour molten gold into my soul for all eternity.

17 February 2015

old horse in the field
looking back with sightless eyes
into his own past

16 February 2015

shipwrecked seaweed, strewn
carelessly by a restless
wave at my bare feet

15 February 2015

I didn't think it would be simple
and now I'm wanting to say
I'm finding it more and more difficult
to come up with a poem a day

My muse is very much jaded
and all of my fires have failed
The first month it was easy
I thought I had it nailed

Other than haiku's I'm struggling
My well's running dry I think
I'm trying to seek inspiration
Or else I'm turning to drink!

14 February 2015

riding in the woods
breaking ice on the small pond
spooking at the noise

13th February 2015

friday the thirteenth
walk around the ladder to
avoid tempting fate

12 February 2015

large red skinned apple
it reminds me of Snow White
do I dare eat it?

11 February 2015

Claire's Jig

Years later out of nowhere  it hits you
that photo  half remembered, a sunny day
although all days were sunny then.

Claire dancing on the grass  a flying vortex of colour
laughing uncontrollably, before rolling down the bank
a tumbling bundle of delight

It's different now no walking on the grass allowed.
Once more the past will fade, memories dim
on those days that can never come again.

10 February 2015

gleaming gold new moon
lighting up the winter night
holding me spellbound

9th February 2015

storm clouds gathering
looking darkly down to earth
choosing their target

8th February 2015

Cinquain

river
hurried restless
curving crashing rushing
endlessly searching for its source
water

7th February 2015

that daft young collie
chasing the car off his land
then letting it go

6th February 2015

Draft of yet another independence poem

Driving down the road excitement in the pit of my stomach

watching those blue white flags waving proudly in the breeze

always higher up and larger than their No cousins

who seemed half-hearted barely fluttering ill at ease.

Yes much more positive than No lets take a chance, give it a go

they seemed to say. On the day a cock crowed the answer was nope

tears in the eye, hard to accept it, sticks in the throat

when what it came down to was fear over hope.

5th February 2015

Years later out of nowhere it  hits you,
that photo, half remembered, a sunny day,
although all days were sunny then.

With luminous clarity you are aware
once more the past will fade, memory dim
on those days that can never be again.

4th February 2015

curled up in the chair
should be getting on with things
read my book instead

3rd February 2015

Teasle

His eyes misting over as mine fill with tears
sweet breath becomes laboured my throat dry with fear.

Now all that's left an aching void, a wound that's deep and raw
would that his soft and gentle mouth could brush my face once more.

2nd February 2015

bright red phone cover
easy to spot as it falls
out of my pocket

01 February 2015

Seeking Inspiration

Sometimes the images come first
how to turn it into verse?

Then again could be a thought
all my musings come to naught.

A memory of something past
the time to dwell goes by too fast.

I almost get it right sometimes
but then I find that nothing rhymes.

Gaze at the butterflies and birds
to find I'm left with words, words words,

how do I put them into order
without anxiety disorder?

My good intentions fall apart
rip up the page another start.

Hours pass head bent in sorrow
I'll have another stab tomorrow!