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HAIKU
The passage of time
Leads me to a second life
Wherein I flourish.
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Positivity – HAIKU
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SMILE – Spike Milligan
[ # 100 of My Favourite Short Poems ]
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This is a wonderfully positive poem, with a delightful premise, wittily expressed by that master of humour, SPIKE MILLIGAN
SMILE
Smiling is infectious
You catch it like the flu
When someone smiled at me today
I started smiling too
I walked around the corner
And someone saw me grin
When he smiled I realised
I had passed it on to him
I thought about the smile
And then realised its worth
A single smile like mine
Could travel round the earth
So if you feel a smile begin
Don’t leave it undetected
Start an epidemic
And get the world infected.
Once Upon an Autumn
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In the land that love forgot
lit by the light of an autumn moon
Memory stirred and held a thought
of those once upon a time days
When roses
rich with red
scented days with hope
Wind-strewn days with fallen apple
air fresh with suckled honey
When once You and I loved
smitten
immersed in this infinity
enamoured
Longing
in those autumn days
Regaining in their wistful hours
what summer once had brought us
All now lost in time’s story
But always and forever
written on memory’s scroll.
Ralph Roister Doister
Ralph Roister Doister was a bit of a wenching lad
Lived in Tudor London with his dear old dad
Braggart soldier, doomed to fail, upstart braggart and a cad.
His story, our first comedy,
Nick Udall gave it birth;
Joyfully pleasing London folk
With merry quips and mirth.
Mumblecrust and Talkapace
Featured in this play
Raucous, Fun and fluffy –
‘Twas the sixteenth century way.
See the Wikipedia entry for more on Ralph Roister Doister
Ralph Roister Doister is a sixteenth-century play by Nicholas Udall, which was once regarded as the first comedy to be written in the English language.
Night Light
‘Liverpool from Wapping’ … John Atkinson Grimshaw
Reflections on the Nocturnal Paintings of John Atkinson Grimshaw
In the gloom of my world,
In the dark of my dreams,
I capture with rapture
Those nights of moonbeams.
In the glow of the gaslights
I wander a while.
There is joy in their promise
And warmth in their smile.
Twinkling with stardust
Lights dance and dive;
Raindrops add lustre,
The streets are alive.
Light catches and clutches
And I feel the glow
Of these dark starlit nights
On the paths that I know.
Bringing warmth to my soul
As we meet face to face;
It’s the world that I live in
And I savour its grace.
Lady in a garden at Moonlight’ … 1882 – John Atkinson Grimshaw
John Atkinson Grimshaw (6 September 1836 – 13 October 1893) was an English Victorian-era artist who has been called a “remarkable and imaginative painter” -best known for his nocturnal scenes of urban landscapes. He was born in Leeds, Yorkshire, and lived most of his life in that county. Wikipedia
Night Murmurs
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Night Murmurs
A whimper came to me at night,
A murmur soft as a dream.
It crept into my consciousness,
As would a silk moonbeam.
This phantom sound,
This covert cry,
Caused my heart to still;
It seemed to me
It had to be
More than just a sigh.
A threat,
A promise,
A pleading voice,
A start or a cessation?
A signal meant for me alone –
Oblation or Damnation?
I held my heart in readiness,
Wept when no guidance came;
Waited too long,
The moment gone;
As ever I am to blame.
Please Note: Over the next few weeks, whilst I am downsizing and moving house, I shall hopefully be posting only two blogs each week, rather than my usual daily publication. I hope to return to more frequent postings in a few weeks time.
Winter Haiku
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As darkness descends
Nature catches breath and sleeps
Awaiting rebirth
Autumn Haiku
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Autumn mists appear
Clutching and shrouding our fields
Prompting life to sleep
Pleasure in a WORD
THROB
As I woke
a word arrived in my consciousness
unasked
unaided
… THROB …
short word
tripped from my dreams
tumbled through my lips
to spill its delight into the morning air
Dug
pleasurably
from my waking consciousness
as my tongue savoured its existence
rolled itself around both lips
and my mouth accommodated itself
to its cadence
Measuring Its measure
against my throat’s resonance
thrusting the sound
up and out
into the waiting
wondering
world
pleased to be out in the morning air
a thrill to emit
listening as it cuts
sensuously
with a flautist ‘s thrust
through the sensuous surrounding air
The poet’s morning chorus
a sound to be repeated
joyously
with fervour
pleasurably
savouring its cadence
Repeated
it resounds in the room
lingering as it ends
lingering as I make
that final occlusion
voicing its
bilabial stop
strong
sensuous
evocative
voluptuous in its warmth
flirtatious in its coquettishness
Onomatopoeic pleasure
so soulfully satisfying
in its sound-print
Its exultant cry of existence
The Hills of my Childhood
On the N.Yorkshire Moors – Pen & Ink … WHB
The Hills of my Childhood
The hills of my childhood
Mountains to me
Remain in my memory
And still I can see
Their contours throbbing
Against the bright sky
Promising thrills
With every sigh.
I climbed, scrambled upwards
To grasp what they pledged
In heedless delight
My keenness knife-edged.
The summit had beckoned
Becoming my mission
My reason for living
My only ambition.
And as my heart pounded,
As upwards I raced,
It presaged my future,
The world that I faced.
To view from the summit
The expanse of my world
Was a glimpse of hereafter
Forever unfurled.
