DREAMLAND

WHB . . . Pen & Wash 1957

DREAMLAND

 

I am led to consider
where it is
that my dreams take me 

 

for when I dream
my world I find
has changed
become condensed
circumscribed by boundaries
which pulse with uncertainty
suppressing perspective
and thereby
concentrating my actions
in broken sequence
now vague somehow
contrary to what is natural
purposeful
yet without intent
and I remain
closeted in an oppressive world
one of vague
and indeterminate outcomes
part hopeful
part fearful
never resolved
always shattered by that rude awakening
which abruptly
without asking
returns my life to a real world
wherein
ill-defined ghosts
stumble into meaning



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Echoes


ECHOES


Echoes remind me again and again
How steadfast my hurt heart has been;
It trembles remembering the heartache, the pain,
The love mixed with anguish it’s seen, 
While still it remains evergreen.


Quintain – A poetic form of five lines … frequently with a rhyme scheme of ababb.

Time’s Reckoning

TIME’S RECKONING

As my eyes closed on yesterday,

Its half-truths and its flaws,

My thoughts then turned to triumphs past,

To nights of warm applause.

To days of plenty, youth and promise,

When all was bright and brave,

When time’s sand filled the hour glass

And life a lustre gave.

I drank the spirit of success

With eagerness and hope;

No fears of failure, dread or loss,

Marred my horoscope.

But time demands a reckoning

And optimism fades.

Life has now passed beyond its cusp,

No more the accolades.

So now I seek content in friends,

Those who remain steadfast.

To them I owe my gratitude,

They are my valued past.

My Books

assorted books on shelf

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

Since my time began
These paper-pallid treasures
Have mirrored my journey
Have been my journey
Life’s loved luggage
My mind’s mainstay
Collected and cosetted
Divided sub-divided
Arranged and ordered
Guarded and bound
Glanced at and absorbed
Ravaged and discarded
My bulwark against reality
Whilst being my reality
Promising me a solid future
Proving their worth
whilst bolstering my own

 

Adding to the sum

of all I’ve drunk,

Those words I’ve feasted on

Swollen into my life’s core

Embodied now as part of me

Woven into the coarseness of my fabric

Sold to receptive ears

Refined by other germs of passage

Now become the amalgam that is me

And part of every book I’ve ever read.

 

 

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Cum Dubito Desisto

ask blackboard chalk board chalkboard

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

WHEN IN DOUBT – DON’T!

The indecisive man
Never can.

Before he will try
He first must ask ‘Why?’

Will he win or maybe lose?
He hesitates to choose.

This is the the way to go, 
But then he thinks, ‘We’ll, NO!’

That way might be right,
But he is never sure quite.

So his ardour cools
And indecision rules.

All is shilly-shally;
Always a blind old alley.

As resolution stutters
His heartbeat trips and flutters.

Timid and forever fickle,
Always in a hopeless pickle.

Should he leave or should he go? 
Cum dubito desisto.

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The Creative Spark

red lighted candle

Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

The Creative Spark

 

A single spark began my tale
From an instant of repose. 
The throb of creation stirred within
And burgeoning life arose. 

The candle spluttered into life
As the flame that lit it died. 
It gathered strength and grew apace, 
Its feathered flame untied. 

Flickering gently in still air
Until it caught the breeze, 
Its flame intensified and grew, 
Spreading itself with ease. 

Dispelling gloom, its wholesome light, 
The dark intent to smother. 
The reflected child of one bright spark
And parent of another. 

I thought how works the simile 
To pass its blood line on?
One flame still burning strong and bright,
The other dead and gone. 

Never quite to be extinguished
Parent and child enriched.
The spark that gave my poem life
Gone now but still exists.

 

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The Black Bra

blackbra1a
Black on Red
It stood
Proud statement
Discarded in frenzy
All passion spent
Improperly passive now
Objet trouvé
Found flotsam
Overstating its status
Bright
Bold
Yet benign

No threat 
No danger
The sad music of lust
Transmuted
Statuesque

Fashioned by whim
Now become
A seafront memento
In memoriam
Of some casual
Teasing escapade
A littoral reminder

Perhaps
Of a purple period
Of passion
Part Bikini
Or
Plain Brassiere

 

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Photos by kind permission of Canadian artist, Alma Kerr

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Christmas – Three Haiku of Hope

 

round brown wooden lanterns

Photo by Pradipna Lodh on Pexels.com

Christmas brings good cheer
But not to all God’s children
Pray time will change that.

Long has it been said
Hope came down at Christmas time
May that be true now

May Christmas bring love
As once it brought Lord Jesus
This Hope still remains.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As The Year Ends

Oriental Image #2-1988

WHB … Pen & Ink – 1988

AS THE YEAR ENDS

Dark the swollen river runs
Under the bridge’s shades of grey.
Slate sky condemns the passive scene
Draining colour from the day.

Tree silhouettes outline my view
Their winter ribs bared to the frost
December bids the old year gone
With no regrets for what is lost. 

The year expires; bid it goodbye, 
It brought distress, re-kindled fears,
It promised much it failed to give,
Left little hope and many tears.

So now, in hope of better times,
Tomorrow holds the future’s key.
New perspectives flood my view
Blue skies as far as I can see.

 

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