Lad

June 6, 2015 at 12:59 am (Poems) (, , , , )

I didn’t know the lad, but he was part of our community and I know he will be missed. As each cherished person is missed. If he has to be gone, the lad, then I would like a picture to remember him by. I didn’t know him, but I want to remember him now, even though it makes me sad. So I will sketch him in a few words, and when he sees my sketch, he might point and laugh, and say “Silly, that’s not me!” But I won’t mind. I won’t mind at all.

Swimming in his shoes

Red sparkles on white horses

Delighted laughter

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Day Break

May 17, 2015 at 6:36 am (Poems) (, , )

and yet, without him
no joy to anticipate –
no welcoming kiss.

inspired by chevrefeille’s carpe diem

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Eclipse

March 20, 2015 at 10:09 am (Poems) (, , , )

Momentarily,
our rhythms interrupted:
awed melancholy.

Carp Diem

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Windmill

March 18, 2015 at 8:38 pm (Poems) (, )

Cutting through bluster
with blades of utility:
poetic motion.

from a prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

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Listen

October 5, 2014 at 11:15 am (philosophy) (, , , , )

Listen to the trees
those moon brushed philosophers
in contemplation

Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

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Rumours at Years End

December 2, 2012 at 5:26 pm (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

Winter-thin windows:

wafers for Snow Queen banquets.

Draughts whisper treason.

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Away

October 25, 2012 at 4:22 pm (literature, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Half light five am
when the bus comes to take us:
where are we going?

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Views from the Motorway – part II

October 16, 2012 at 8:19 am (literature, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Red Kites slice twilight skies:
waiters serving cloud cup cakes
upon fine forked tails

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Views from the Motorway – part I

October 15, 2012 at 8:07 am (literature, Poems, poetry, politics, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Naturist cyclists
pedalling furiously
shiny bells jangling

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Protest

September 29, 2012 at 10:37 am (literature, Poems, poetry) (, , , , , , , , , )

Standing on a box
in the heart of his city
hoping to be heard

he was.

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