The Darling Buds

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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.

 

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A Limited Life

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A Limited Life

Take my breath away
yet let me live
my blinded eyes
they still can see the sun
I walk but cannot move
for fear to fall
my stulted words
restricted to my pen

Now all my thoughts
are centred on myself
not touch nor closeness
are allowed

to stunt my waking dreams
and life depends
on instant ends
the future makes no sense
and time has ceased

For now has lost its meaning
in the drift in which I live
day melds into night
and then returns
but only to repeat
its torpid trend
refusing to rekindle
that fire which burns
within my ashes urn

 

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What is Happening?

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What is Happening?

The ordinariness of life
As day succeeds on day,
Now grips more than it ever did
And fear is just a sneeze away.

What is it that tomorrow brings,
How trenchant is life’s grip,
Will time refuse to stumble on,
Is now just a minor blip?

Or is this really Armageddon,
Is it what was foretold,
Has fate at last revealed itself,
The future to unfold?

 

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Friday – ‘Cometh The Hour’

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An aphorism for each day, keeps the doctor away. Each day this week I am offering a common aphorism, just slightly embellished – for good or ill.

 

Friday – ‘Cometh The Hour’

 

Cometh the hour, cometh the man;

I hope he’s waiting in the wings.

Our world most surely needs him now,

Someone who love and wellness brings.

 

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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 Next Time

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The next time
will always be
the best time
Anticipation
feeds
breeds
on expectation

Tomorrow will be
better than Today
Yesterday’s
revitalised
successor,
Itself refurbished,
re-burnished.
with new hope

To travel hopefully
into an unknown world
of conjecture
and hypothesis
is to have faith
in uncertainty

 

And Optimism
is given to us
to make the future
bearable

 

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Two-Word Tale #11 – Take Heed

at the end of a day

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Take Heed  . . .  Two-Word Tale #11

Take heed
More haste
Less speed

Don’t rush
Less fuss
No crush

You’ll get
Your chance
You will
Per-chance

Soon find
That time
Will toe
The line
And give
You space
To win
Life’s race

Just take
It steady
Then you’ll
Be ready
When time
Is called
When day
Is done
No more
The sun
Will rise
And shine

No more
Will this
My tale
Be told

For all
At last
Will turn
To dust

To leave
Life’s ash
To cool
As ripples
On a
Still pool

To fade
And die
Never
To know
Just how
Or why

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Two Word Tale #10 – Time’s Tale

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‘Big Ben’ … Pen & Wash – WHB.2015   ©

Time tells
Its tale
Tick tock
Tock tick

If truth
Be told
When time
Runs out
I won’t
Be stressed
I won’t
Be tired
 Just sad

Yet still
Hell bent
To start
With zeal
Pre – pared
To do
Just what
It takes

To live
This time
In peace

While time
Still there
Ticks on

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Time To Linger . . .. A Kyrielle’

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Time To Linger . . ..  A Kyrielle’

 

I carry my age so lightly,
With others help, don’t get me wrong,
I’ll manage to last till midnight.
Give me the time to linger long.

For patience is a true virtue,
And I’ve not knowingly done wrong.
So grant me one last interlude,
Give me the time to linger long.

And when my time at last does come,
My final lucid grateful song
Will say as they whisk me away,
‘Thanks for the time to linger long.’ 

 

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NOTE:

Kyrielle is a French form of rhyming poetry written in quatrains (a stanza consisting of 4 lines), and each quatrain contains a repeating line or phrase as a refrain (usually appearing as the last line of each stanza). Each line within the poem consists of only eight syllables. There is no limit to the amount of stanzas a Kyrielle may have, but three is considered the accepted minimum  . . .  The rhyme pattern is completely up to the poet.

[  From:  http://www.shadowpoetry.com  ]

 

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How Can It Be?

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How Can It Be?

 

Sad the moment
Instant grief
No containment
No relief

How can it be
That such a stricture
Such hurt
Such pain
Can come to blight
A life again
When all else seems
So sweet
So rich

One thought sustains
And moves us on
Relentless time
Regarding none
Ensures at last
The past is gone
While healing hope remains

 

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