
At the ebb of a tide I'll slink to the shore and though nought to hide I'll be back for more for this is my movement and what I am for as I am the shifting sea
Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
In Brentford, West London beside Father Thames three in the morning and still a poet with pen writes lines in the night to the scratch of proverbial quill Words tend to flow at this time of night for the mind is a curious thing and sometimes when slumber seems eons away the colour of rhyme will just sing
I have summer and sunshine here in my grasp and I'm not letting go, so don't even ask They're mine and neither is going away so no fretting there as I start this display For I am fair June and the summer is mine so most of my days will be lovely and fine And you will be warm and blissfully free as you celebrate this, the summer with me
And the last day of May comes as June takes the stage with a bow as summer returns So good at long last to get a warm blast of the sunshine as strongly it burns So as May fades to silent with its last curtain call we applaud as it gave of its best and brought us the sun for long days of fun in exuberance of summer's zest
We purchased some lavender lots of it in pots ready for planting as we found the spots Some went to the allotment as encouragement for bees spreading theirs pollen the moment to seize But the rest to our garden now take pride of place for more joie de vivre and smiles on the face
I wrote a poem with five verses one for every day which I could publish on my blog whilst I was away The first one introduced the theme (you read that yesterday) but now you will be wondering if substance I'll display And never fear my readers I'll not leave you feeling spent as never will a poem leave my pen without intent The only caveat with this is you read this through the week to find out with the fifth stanza that intent of which I speak So here it is come Friday no longer it's concealed a ploy that kept you reading til the purpose was revealed
I wrote a poem with five verses one for every day which I could publish on my blog whilst I was away The first one introduced the theme (you read that yesterday) but now you will be wondering if substance I'll display And never fear my readers I'll not leave you feeling spent as never will a poem leave my pen without intent The only caveat with this is you read this through the week to find out with the fifth stanza that intent of which I speak...
I wrote a poem with five verses one for every day which I could publish on my blog whilst I was away The first one introduced the theme (you read that yesterday) but now you will be wondering if substance I'll display And never fear my readers I'll not leave you feeling spent as never will a poem leave my pen without intent...
Howdy! It’s been awhile. Here are some limericks on getting old…
How have I gotten so old?
Most of my days have been told.
My skeleton’s creaky,
My bladder is leaky,
And my toenails are harboring mold.
My pallid and wrinkled complexion
Stares back from the mirror’s reflection.
Where is the kid
Who could barely keep hid
The crimp of a chronic erection?
How did I get here so fast?
I was certain my vigor would last.
Now my day’s greatest bliss
Is success when I piss,
And control of the flow from my ass.
…
For the rest, please click here:
I wrote a poem with five verses one for every day which I could publish on my blog whilst I was away The first one introduced the theme (you read that yesterday) but now you will be wondering if substance I'll display...
I wrote a poem with five verses one for every day which I could publish on my blog whilst I was away...
In the quiet a moment reconciled as with some whimsy there I smiled remembering my inner child and captured it as memory filed In the quiet before the day had started I pondered brief what had departed recollections I had started some replete and some half-hearted In the quiet as sunshine outside beamed I knew within that what had seemed to be a moment I had dreamed was actually the zest that gleamed
Enough's enough so here we go into the jungle at the rear aka our back garden which is really overdue a clear We've rather let it go of late and with springtime zest it's grown into an erstwhile jungle from the garden we have known But armed with determination and some shears we will reclaim it back from something overgrown to a garden once again
One day it's sunny, the next day it's not and it's yet to get close to something that's hot but as this is England, I guess that's our lot so put on a smile and move on One day the Spring looks set to get going with colour and zest and sunshine and knowing but the next day normality, rain and wind blowing so put on a smile and move on One day I'll wake to the shine of the sun that'll warm me and keep me until the day's done but until that time comes I'll still have my fun so put on a smile and move on
I'd have to say (If I didn't know better) if only because the ground's less wetter and we've not been shivering quite so much although it is May and springtime as such has only by the colour shown and not by warmth we might have known brought to our now long-suffered frame the softened whisper known by name. But these still morning shadows long bathed there in sunshine with a song don't need the words to speak the truth and bring to life the summer's youth.
Sal sings the song a month before me 'cos I in my youth am still sixty-three But today on her birthday the chorus rings true so we'll sing it together as that's something we do The question, rhetorical; clearly and more 'cos of course there's the need now one's sixty-four Forty-two birthdays both shared together but the sixty-fourth one means we can be clever And of course there's the love and of course there's the need now we've made it to this one (well almost indeed) So here's to your birthday and for many more when at last we can sing 'Now I'm sixty-four'!
©Jemverse
Bluebell by name and bluebell by nature the walk was the best in a while Seven miles wandering the countryside pure in Sussex to bring us a smile Five of us this time, numbers have swelled the family out here together with mud underfoot and grey of the sky determined whatever the weather We took in the woods with the blue and the green passing paddocks and ponds on the way before walking the tracks yesteryear provides still the proud Sussex Bluebell Railway
I laid down several barrowfulls of mulch upon the ground covering the remaining grass that's evident around Not 'cos we don't like it but on an allotment it's a pain as every time we go there it's strimming time again
It rained for the Coronation, puddles everywhere but that didn't stop the nation with its pageantry to share Most of us just stayed indoors to watch it on TV a rarity in fifty-two but not in twenty-three I heard that on Hove lawns a giant screen erected but the precipitation meant that just a few selected to brave out there the elements early May has gifted though on this special day most spirits still were lifted
In the quiet still of these crystal moments when the morning whispers at sun's first call and slumber echoes on the dove-cote doors of sleep a world lies waiting for the day and there you will find me, pen in hand poised for the never failing still voice of inspiration and when it comes, as it always will these virgin sheets meet my words