CHERITA #2

My second experiment with the poetic form – The CHERITA . . .

‘Cherita’ is the Malay word for story or tale. A cherita consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then finishing with a three-line verse. It can be written solo or with up to three partners.  (See the website at:   https://www.thecherita.com for further information).

2.

The wind rustled the branches.

The bird held tight,
Swaying with its motion,

Another bird landed beside her
She flew off
To find her own branch.

Hope – a Sequence from 2020

‘HOPE’ … G.F.Watts – 1886

Walk, Eat, Sleep, Wake,
Little to do
To myself I talk
Thus the story
of twenty-twenty
Gone the years
of more and plenty
Cover my face
as in disgrace
Cross my heart
and keep apart
Cuddles banned
Hugs verboten
Kiss me quick
all that forgotten
When will it end
and will it ever
A Life to live
A love to sever
Lock me up
they might as well
For where I am
there I dwell
Nothing but time
to fill each day
And time never ends
so here I stay
Locked in this cell
not feeling well
Till hope returns
and once again
within me burns

Five ‘Isolation’ Pastiches: #1

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Each day this week I will publish a short 4-line verse, each one commencing with a well-known line, sometimes adapted to suit the context, from a renowned published poem.  The general theme is that of Isolation.

 

Wordsworth’s Lucy:  Pastiche #1

( ‘She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways’: by William Wordsworth )

 

I dwell along untrodden ways

Beside the River Thames.

I teach myself to live alone,

And write poetic gems.

 

 

Once Upon Another Time

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Once Upon Another Time

 

Once upon another time
There lived a girl whose heart was mine.

For I loved her and she loved me,
Together we would always be.

But times have changed and so have we,
Allowing us new paths to see.

Those promises which once we kept
Have faded as we overslept.

And passing time and growing distance
Have slowly dulled, then killed, resistance.

Allowing other doors to open,
Other pledges to be spoken.

Until, as now, the past forgotten,
We venture on new paths untrodden.

To face a future, yet unknown,
Both of us left still alone.

 

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The RECLUSE

I am not a driven man
Consumed by purpose
I have ambled along life’s path
No particular aim in mind
I take no pride in not being assertive
For I have let life happen
Not forced its course
Little guidance have I sought
Or been offered
Little forethought have I given
I steered no path between the tides
To avoid the quicksands
Or to avoid being tempted by the Sirens’ wail
Gratefully
I was not confronted with
Scylla and Charybdis
I would have baulked with indecision
And without a philosophy
Religion no longer holding any sway with me
No politics to speak of
An indolent practitioner of life
Without imperative
Perhaps too conscious
Of everyone else’s point of view
For this no doubt I’ll pay a price
And when the final reckoning comes
They’ll say “He never cared”
But they will be wrong.
I cared too much to confront
My irresolution
And now I suffer for it.