Once I thought,
that the most beautiful flower
grows in the middle of fields.
And among the lush green,
she sways and dances with the breeze.
Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenges
Poetry challenge: Valentines poem.
(Ceramic piece painted by Miriam Hurdle)
I woke up this morning from a dreamy grey half-sleep
with the February rain dripping off the eaves.
A memory floated by that in a previous life
I was a horse. No question.
A big, brown horse with
soft, knowing eyes. I had been abandoned
~ Without Words
When the Poet no words to share
The soul lingers unaware
The inner voice cannot be heard
Collective conscious void of word
And the Poet – head bent in defeat
In case anyone’s interested,
I’d like the superpower of “Folding” for my birthday.
It cuts out the middle man
to command space and time
with no bureaucracy.
Like a cosmic calendar with tricky bits.
I’d fold weeks, months, years, centuries together,
jump to any time, past or future.
The first would be hanging with
the first human band to walk out
of Africa 60,000 years ago.
I’d wait in the shade of a date palm,
on the banks of the Nile,
bouncing rocks off the skulls of crocodiles,
keeping an eye out to the south.
I would get a fire going and
cook hot dogs and hamburgers,
and have beer chilling on ice.
History’s first tailgate.
I was 21 when I took the official vows,
but had really taken the important ones
some months earlier. When I proposed
on April Fools Day and she said ‘yes.’
And like two fools,
we thought that was just fine.
Turns out, nearly 50 years later, it was.
I look at her as she dreams her mind away,
like she always does.
And I cannot find the words I want to say,
every one of my thoughts seems to have run away.
She smiles quietly and holds my hand,
and stars in far away galaxies would jubilantly dance.
My heart pumps more blood to my mind that does not understand,
how can a simple girl own my world with a single glance?
At some point the rivers of your life will suddenly stop,
your time will have come to leave this world behind.
And that little heart of yours will cease to hop,
while your soul starts floating towards the light it tries to find.
Curled up in a ball
and sleeping as I write
My faithful hound called ‘Obi’
is a lovely sight
Whose tracks those are I think I know
His auto’s by trees yonder, though;
He cannot see me skidding past
(His windows buried deep in snow.)
My Subaru must think it queer
To try to stop in any gear
Trapped ‘tween ditch and looming truck
Whee! First ice storm in this crappy year!
Safety brakes cause wheels to shake
Miss the truck? ‘Tis a grim sweepstake
The only other sound the squeals
Of a useless scream and semi’s brakes.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
And I now wish I’d picked the Jeep,
But tears’ll freeze if now I weep,
But tears’ll freeze if now I weep.
*With apologies to Robert Frost
The thing about life is,
that you never know..
You never know who you hurt with the words you spoke,
or whose heart you accidentally broke.
You never know who you damaged every bit of their soul,
or whose shine you mercilessly stole.
“I just want to see how long the string is. This never gets old. It gets more interesting, actually.” — Keith Richards, Rolling Stones
Each day is here then gone, a brief chance to
roll the salt and savor of it on the tongue, to enjoy
each passing smile and twinkling eye and lovely curve,
reminding me I am still alive.
Teaching me why, in the now.
Each sunset red on the world,
a hint at what becomes of us all.
If you ever believe in anything so strongly,
then I hope you do believe in you.
And dismiss all the shit that was said to you, wrongly,
along with that damaging self-talk you tell yourself too.
There was a moment
part of night-time and silence
in the small hours when
a whisper sounded like a shout
I hope you realise before it’s already too late.. that there isn’t time.
There isn’t time for you to feel worthless,
There isn’t time for you to feel sorry for yourself,
There isn’t time to sink into the waters of the past,
There isn’t time to recount the failures of yesterday,
There isn’t time to dwell on relationships that didn’t last,
There isn’t time to repress the words you always wanted to say..
Fog thick as pea soup
shrouds the Sussex countryside
Trees hide like shadows
Quiet whispers, coy and shy
as again I climb the Ring
Original Photo : www.morguefile.com/p/849851
Text : Helen Midgley
In my minds eye I protest,
Protest about the ever growing voilence of our world.
Protest about the ever growing pain.
I open my mouth to speak
Move in slowly with carnivorous intent,
With warm curves, sweet desire.
I was a lost word
Bereft, I had searched in vain
for inclusion in a verse
But on this last day
my searching is completed
and I take my place with pride
The water rubs the stone
Soft and cool, or fast and hot.
Day upon day.
The stone’s contours shift and soften
Day upon day.
Maybe it is time to forgive God
For the hundreds of women
who have rejected me over the years,
Starting in third grade,
(theoretically, of course,
whether they knew it or not.
And for the one or two who
didn’t, but should have).
I’ve reached the point in life
too late where I
Would actually be of some
use to them,
Could gently walk with them without harm,
And be remembered with
generosity and fondness.
But I have reached the age
of their fathers,
And so, instead, have become