A Farewell

I stand beside the sunlit edge
of pond and meadow touching hands,
watch flirting leaves that twitch and swirl 
then bob and curtsey in their dance.

Soft waters rippling into shore,
beneath bowed willows’ trailing arms,
push tender shards of russet brown
to catch and curl between the reeds.

Though reds and gold light up the trees,
no harsh wind sings of winter’s chill,
but autumn whispers in the breeze
and summer hums a sad farewell.

colour me unique

color me phosphorescent
and I would glow in the dark
gathering my light
from external sources

color me fluorescent
and I would be a bit more
out of the ordinary
and you would see me

storing and reflecting light
I would glow day and night
better even than metallics
and all just for you

color me phosphorescent
color me fluorescent
oh, pretty please, see me
– why don’t you?

best medicine

I love to laugh, I kid you not
In fact I chuckle quite a lot
You may find if you see me smile
And clouds have lifted for a while
That I love to laugh

Life see-saws a bit you see
For those with temperaments like me
So when I’m down life is a bore
Yet where there’s mirth my spirits soar
For I love to laugh

When black dog comes with all his ills
And I’m told to take those bloody pills
To help me sleep and ease the pain
I’m quite soon bouncing back again
And I love to laugh

One thing’s for sure life is a riddle
Can’t swim sedately down the middle
When it’s a bumpy ride on a choppy sea
For mood-swing people made like me
But I love to laugh

where angels tread

let misty evening be my shroud
soft tendrils drifting cool and dim
where only angels are allowed

where mourning trees stand ever proud
a nightjar’s song the only hymn
let misty evening be my shroud

unearthly treasures are endowed
to those who tread this pathway grim
where only angels are allowed

go softly where the bluebells crowd
lit azure by day’s dying rim
let misty evening be my shroud

falter not though head is bowed
to find this place as senses dim
where only angels are allowed

yet hearts are singing strong and loud
such is the world of cherabim
let misty evening be my shroud
where only angels are allowed

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

(the form of this poem is a villanelle)

Poppies

blood red a field of poppies shines
each one another hundred yields
these symbols ever in our hearts
for all who died on Flanders fields

 

a poppy seed flies in the wind
and landing lightly on the earth
lies waiting for sun’s energy
to germinate and give it birth

a droplet falls from rainy skies
weak sunlight warming with its rays
until in spring new growth begins
it’s bloom sublime on summer days

blood red a field of poppies shines
each one another hundred yields
these symbols ever in our hearts
for all who died on Flanders fields

 


(Image courtesy of BBC)