Objet Trouvé

( Photograph taken on a farm in Devon – 2005 by WHB  © )

Objet trouvé

Victim of the guillotine?

Or could it be of nicotine?

Doll-ish head, a baby lass,

Laid to rest on a bed of grass

Verse by WHB (aka Roland Keld  © )

One of the series in which I re-publish some of my previous posts. This is one of those in which I presented some of my collection of  whimsical,  quirky,  humorous photographs, snapped up, Autolycus-style, on my travels over the past few years.bar-green

Escape From Reality

Photo: WHB – Thames Sculler: Dec.2020

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on the deep blue Thames
Heading to I know not where
But joyous to be just there

A winter’s day, With time to spare
No promises to keep
I’ll tone my body, air my lungs,
Before I fall asleep

I am content
I’ve found a place
In silent space
Where life cannot torment

Photo: WHB – Thames Sculler: Dec.2020

The Steps I Tread

Photo: WHB – Thames Towpath: Dec.2020

Trudging the towpath
I come across an
intriguing puzzle path
these hieroglyphs of passage
arrest my motion
defying disturbance
and imposing their mystery
to impede my progress


Now I fear to tread
to de-sanctify their presence
and destroy their meaning
with my care-less trudge


These disguised but so readable signs
I am unable to fathom
greater skills than I have
are required to tell the story
of who, of what
has gone before
and of how I have come
to where I am


However fraught
I remain
caught
in an indecipherable
present
struggling to construe
just what Now means


Mystery abounds
these cuneiform cartouches
defeat my urge for understanding
and I pass on
adding my own meaning
only by the steps I tread

Churchyard Leaves

Photo: WHB – Surrey 2020

CHURCHYARD LEAVES

Churchyard leaves
Blanket the dead;
Winter warmth
Of words unsaid.

Deep in their earth,
now ashes and dust,
Forgotten are fears
worries, mistrust.

Here where stillness
reflects on the past,
We meet with the future
Our questions unasked.

Photo: WHB – Surrey 2020

Death of the High Street

Death of the High Street

The toppled torso
tired and torn
lay in the Church Street window
Snapshot of fallen glory
now in tired languor
seeking to hide from view
attempting to forget its past 
Once peacock proud
And prettified
full-fashioned
Embellished and brocaded
Bedecked in yesterday’s mode
Reduced now to a fallen dusted death
Memento Mori
Of yet another High Street death

A Rainbow Visited Me Today

My Rainbow

Photo:WHB  – 2020  …   ©

A Rainbow Visited Me Today

 

As upon my chair I lay

To my dismay,

A rainbow crept up my leg today.

I like it here’, I heard it say.

So warm and cosy, I think I’ll stay.’

She whispered to me ‘Is that O-Kay?

Feeling blessed I could not say ‘Nay.’

Of course, I said, ‘Well, Yes, you may.

A joy, a gift, a bold array.

Do not decay,

No need to pay.

So, please, oh please, don’t ever go away.’

rainbow color textiles

Photo by Adrien Olichon on Pexels.com

The Grass Above His Grave

PriivateHarvey1

 The end of World War I took effect on the “eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month” of 1918.  The inscription on this war grave in the churchyard of St.Mary’s, Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, commemorates the short life of Private F.J . Harvey of the Middlesex Regiment, who sadly died just 12 days before this.
He was 18 years of age.

The Grass Above His Grave

And the grasses sway above his grave,
Reminding me of what he gave,
Of hopes as his new life began,
No more a boy, nor yet a man.

*     *     *

The promises of a war, just ended,
Lay before him, starkly spread.
Tempting him to rejoice
In the swollen face of victory.

A life to live, a promise to keep,
Beckoned his youth to greater glory,
But time and life were not for him,
Nor was death a friend.

They conspired to rob him of
The future he had bought,
And, in victory, the fate of so many
Became his own fate too.

*     *     *

And the grasses sway above his grave
Reminding me of what he gave
Of hopes as his new life began
No more a boy, nor yet a man. 

 

Priivate Harvey1

Photos: WHB-2020  …  ©

POOR  BILL

BillPosters

POOR  BILL

 

Poor Bill Posters
They did lead him a dance;
They were always out to get him,
He never stood a chance.

I wonder if they caught him,
Caught him in the act.
Or maybe he escaped
After he’d their shop ransacked.

What had he done to vex them,
Had he been so bad?
Why had they sworn to catch him,
That mad and crazy lad?

A dyed-in-the-wool shoplifter,
A lousy screwed-up thief,
An habitual offender,
Who’d brought them endless grief?

But I hope they’ll never catch him,
It’s his name that let him down;
That eventually undid him,
And drove him out of town.

Bill Posters

Photos:  WHB  . . .   Surrey, England – 2020

The Darling Buds

Darling Buds1

Photo:  ‘In a Surrey Garden’ – WHB – 2012

The Darling Buds

Here in my quietly cherished garden,
Where  golden flowers grow,
I love to linger long and taste
The flowers that I know.

But now around me where I see
The darling buds of roses,
They bring a powerful sense to me
Of life that decomposes.

Time has brought me to a point
Where life and love are frozen;
Where little I do has meaning, and
My future has been chosen.

For now I’m in a time cocoon
Where life has been suspended..
Where I can look but cannot see,
And reality has ended.

 

Bar-Rose

Indomitable

CoweySale-Tree2

INDOMITABLE

If you hit me I will bruise,
Cut me down, I’ll cry,
Take my limbs,
They’ll multiply,
Always I will death defy.

Fire and flood I will resist,
And never give up hope;
Eventually I’ll rejuvenate,
Whatever comes I’ll cope.

For Nature built me to succeed,
Never to give in;
Mutilate me, I will bleed,
But never will give in.

 

CoweySale-Tree1

‘Rejuvenating Tree’ – Surrey, England … Photos: WHB – May 2020   ©