Monday, February 27, 2017

Being a writer


I love being a writer
As I leave my mundane life
And leaping onto my keyboard
Go seeking ventures abroad

Walking the streets of my mind
Meeting those I would avoid
Even fighting on pirate ships
Or kissing that sweet girls lips

Nothing's out of reach for me
Flying high or crawling a cave
Riding the rapids on a log
Having adventures with a dog

But most of all I like the times
When romance is my theme
I look into that cute girl's eyes
It ends of course in lovers sighs

This poem first published in 2014 has been dusted off, tweaked a little and brought out for another airing

Image found at www.rastwinphandtemp36.soup.io

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Right time to write


It was a hot day on the sands
Watching from the hotel window
Clear blue sky, alabaster moon
Felt out of place at scorching noon
My poems ambled across the page
Smirking back at me

Bloated bellies bathed in the sea
Laying there in the noonday sun
Stuffed full with junkfood and much more
Beach umbrellas dotting the shore
Children's laughter still as the breeze
The sun wins round one

I wait till dusk for my daily walk
Watching them kiss on the promenade
Warm fingers entwined and lockets touched
Fondly now each other clutched
My camera eyes click on the scene
Street lights blink with shame

My evening walk is now complete
I stroll back to my hotel again
A drunk leans raving by the wall
A victim of weekend pub crawl
I kick my heels and rush back home
Words pour from my brain

Image found at www.thebeachguide.co.uk



Saturday, February 25, 2017

Our planet bleeds


Black feathered crows now fly overhead
Their eyes following our turmoil below
We're the carrion that will feed their chicks
For so many a long year to come

I sign with sadness as I think of us
For our selfish cult of greed has grown fast
Our planet bleeds with horror at the news
While Earth spins around life giving Sun

We elect our leaders that destroy this land
Who decide to grab as many bucks they can
The human race jinxed by such shallow greed
So deciding the fate of humanity 

Image found at www.stephenking.com

Fictitious life of cats


Like Cheshire cat grinning
Licking the Yakult pot
Now laughing to himself
Left home alone smirking

The house now his to roam
First he clawed the curtains
Sat deep in the pillows 
Of the master bedroom

Then jumped quickly down
To sit by the window
Watching the little birds
Scratch in the earth outside 

Then went to the cat flap
To crawl slowly outdoors
Looked this way and that
To choose which friends to find

He jumped up the high fence
Hoping to see them there
But only dog on lead
So spat and snarled at him

Coughed up clot of fur ball
So ran back to the house
Just as Mistress returned
"Good boy, you've been sleeping"

Image found at www.thecreativecat.net

Broken



Man broken hearted 
Lost his money at the race
Blames broken down nag

Image found at www.eurosport.com

Friday, February 24, 2017

Come my love


I woke up and found you at my side
Sleeping, breathing so quietly
I knew it was you by the scent you wore
I also knew you had gone before

As the sun rose slowly and birds woke up
Your eyes opened to look at me
I leaned across to touch your soft skin
"It's time to go" she said whispering

Pulling me by the hand the house we left
As we walked out through the open door
I turned and looked at the bed once more
And saw I lay there dead to the world

"Come my love, quickly for we must away
I have to fetch you at the break of day"
"But there's a poem that's unfinished yet"
How she laughed "Oh darling this is it"

Image found at www.pinterest.com

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

I couldn't could I?


I am an old man now
But still remember you
You had brown eyes and a turned up nose
And luscious lips I just had to kiss

We were both seventeen
My head lay on your breast
But it was for the very last time
For someone else was now in your life

I never got over it
Losing you to another
Then I saw you just the other day
How all those years have taken their toll

I just had that feeling
An overwhelming urge
To wrap you up in my arms again
And run my fingers over your soft skin

But I couldn't could I?
At your husbands graveside
But you looked up staring back at me
Then nodded and whispered a thankyou

Image found at www.dreamstime.com

Saturday, February 18, 2017

School in the 1940's


When I first started school in the 1940's it seemed I was put in a wolfs lair to be bullied at whim by all the older boys as i was totally unprepared. I wsa happier being by myself watching enemy planes flying overhead looking for a good place to drop their bombs but luckily they never chose our town ...much, unless they were on the way home being turned back by our Spitfires and Hurricanes so decided to lighten their load anywhere they could then get home quickly for tea...or schnapps.

School was a battlefield too especially if you were unprepared on the first day of the month. The bullies would then sing out to little kids like me as they came to school “A pinch and punch for the first of the month’ and then as quick as they could they would do just that simultaneously pinching your upper arm then punching you anywhere you hadn’t been quick witted enough to defend. Then to make matters worse if you quickly answered correctly “Rabbits” they would follow up shouting out and presenting you with “A push and a kick for being so quick”.

Kids have it so easy these days.




Image found at www.pinterest.com

Friday, February 17, 2017

When I look into your eyes


When I look into your eyes
I see the girl I met at school
Sitting together laughing
Making fun of all the boys

When I look into your eyes
Remembering our sleepovers
Talking and laughing all night
Until Mum banged on the wall

When I look into your eyes
I see that girl rushing to me
To tell me of her first kiss
Then I told you of mine

When I look into your eyes
I see your tears of great regret
You liked the boy I did too
But we can't share him can we?

When I look into your eyes
So happy on your wedding day
With you kissing your husband
It is me crying, not you

Image found at www.aevitasweddings.com

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Sink hole on Savai'i

                             

The island of Savai'i is part of the independent state of Samoa (formerly Western Samoa) in the south Pacific Ocean where there is an extensive lava field  caused by a lava flow following a series of earthquakes  beytween 1905-1911.

In those days the Samoan Islands were colonies (or dependencies) of Germany and the United States although a number of European nations traded there. 

Robert Louis Stevenson the renowned author "Kidnapped, Treasure Island and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde" amongst other writings took his extended family there thinking that it would be a good place to live as he suffered from tuberculosis eventually dying there in 1894.

When the lava flow resulting from the earthquakes had solidified it was discovered that in one devastated area near Saleaula that the lava had avoided but surrounded one grave of a young girl from the village appearing to be a sink hole in the surrounding lava. .

 It is now a tourist attraction to walk on that same lava field probably quaking in your shoes to see it for yourself.

My wife and I visited the islands in 1985 and considered it to be one of the best holidays we ever had also visiting Robert Louis Stevenson's former home there on the more populated island of Upulu just a few kilometres from the capital Apia.

Image found at www.traveladventures.com

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The forest dark


I love the forest dark
Whispering sad secrets
Of death decaying while
The fragrant scent of life
Now blooming in its wake

Chirrup of birds hidden
The slither of mean snakes
The howl of red foxes
The scare of the spiders
Web now brushing your face

The alarm of creatures
Sensing burning embers
Even from far away
Assuaged by rain showers
Setting the birds singing

I love the dark forest
The chuck-chuck of alarm
Then quiet as I sit
A snake slithers past now
Paying this man no mind

Image found at www.nj.gov/dep/greenacres

Teenage love


Thunder of my heart's beat
As you walked down the street
Chatting, teasing that other boy

T'was your eyes and your nose
Your cheek, the tint of rose
I loved the way you flicked your hair

You glanced at me just one time
Then smiled, it was sublime
Later said he was your cousin Jack

Soon we were a pigeon pair
Holding hands in my care
Teenage love such a wondrous time

Sadly it did not last
For weeks I was downcast
How could I manage without you?

Then Rosalind appeared
She and I just adhered
'Til the day it came unstuck

Such was my teenage love
That game of push and shove
Oh to have have it over again!

Image found at www.askdianne.com/teenage-love-relationships



Saturday, February 11, 2017

At the Jazz Club


Friday night at the Jazz Club
Beat resounding foot stomping, cheering
You're sitting on a bar stool drinking

I see your cute face eyes half smiling
Challenging me to sing my love song
Leaning on the upright piano

The rhythms of my heart betray me
Pounding like a wild kettle drum
To some long past ragtime melody

Root problem was I didn't sing that well
After the song she says "That's unusual"
She then whispers "Back to my place then?"

Image found at https://www.youtube.com


The Outcome


I went home that day of the funeral
A gray day clouds scudding the angry sky
Grained with sorrow weeping a thousand tears
I felt gutted having to return there
I had left nearly fourteen years before
The run down cottage looking just the same
Burlap flapping by the outside toilet
Not one thing had changed except just me
I opened the back door to the kitchen
Half expected bread and butter on the table
To feed us four hungry kids rain or shine
Always said I would never return but had

Left my long suffering mother alone
To live there abused by that hateful pig
I could never forgive myself for that
Curses followed me out that very door
Was my fault all the siblings had left too
Escaping the ferocity of his ire
Remembering only Ma's ingrained face
Tears hidden in her eyes leaving her there
Few at her funeral to say goodbye
None saw the tears running down my face
The holiness of the church comforting
Plus the fact he would never leave jail

Image found at www.dailymail.co.uk

Friday, February 10, 2017

Paths that we once trod


I still walk the same paths that we once trod
Holding hands touching tenderly your pretty face
The first time that you first saw me you then did nod
Before long we two were wrapped in an embrace
Though we strolled alone our words were whispered love
The sun shone for us and the moon beamed on
Those summer nights now willing us our love to prove
When I awoke both you and the moon serene had gone
I'm an old man now and many tears I have now shed
Where did you go and why did you flee from me?
I dream oft of your eyes so green and hair so red
But weep alone with a sad view of the cruel sea
The waves wash in to wipe away all the words we said
But memories of our love will ever stay with me

Image found at www.fineartamerica.com/featured/1-the-old-man-and-the-sea-anne-weirich.html


Wednesday, February 8, 2017

La Boulangerie



It was 1952 and I was an exchange student to a pen pal in France, Michel who with his twin brother Claude had come to stay in our house in England for four weeks so they could experience Great Britain.

As arranged I returned with them to France to stay a month with their parents and their two younger sisters Joelle and Silvie so I too could learn what it was like living with a French family in France.

It was different to say the least but as it was school holidays I had every day to explore the town of Meaux a few miles outside Paris and to ride our bikes all around the countryside seeing chateaux and quaint villages and even rowing across the River Marne to have fun on the island midstream where we could swim in the river and play volleyball with their friends.

On Sundays of course they went to church at the cathedral in Meaux and I went along too more of a spectator being an Anglican rather than a participant in the service as the boys like the majority of French citizens were Catholic.

On weekdays we would run errands for their mother and often we would have to stop by "La boulangerie" (baker) to collect the baguettes and patisseries their mother had ordered.

Even today so many years later I still eat that now common crusty French bread reliving the memory of me first discovering a wider world than I had ever known before.

Image found at www.boulangerie.devulder.free.fr

Girl on a park bench


I wondered why people didn't sit
In the middle of park benches
But chose to sit at one end or the other

Was it because they were so cross
That they sat in the middle like Sue
Because I was so very late to arrive

She had bare legs, her toes wriggled
With annoyance or craving
Lucky I'd bought her a strawberry icecream

When she saw what I was holding
She moved over to the left side
Nature's asymmetry was restored again

Image found at www.shutterstock.com

The subway train


The space between us
Was but an inch or so
But my heartbeat drummed inside of me

For I sensed your warmth
The rhythm as you breathed
As the subway train rattled along

The tunnel curved here
Carriage swayed side to side
Your shoulder touched me, you grinned at me

I apologized
Then we started to talk
The space between had now disappeared


Image found at www.newyorktimes.com

Monday, February 6, 2017

The sea's swell


The sea's swell breaking so far away
I stand there surf washing at my feet
Sun now smiling before noon day's heat
I'm now happy as I see you walk my way

We'd often met on this lonely beach before
Not a word was said just a smile our two
But on this day I thought this won't do
I said some sweet things to open up love's door

She shyly blushed at first then grinned at me
Then chatted on and opened up her heart
I should have spoken from the very start
Soon hand in hand on marriage we did agree

The sea's swell breaking so far away
We stand there surf washing at our feet
Sun now smiling before noon day's heat
Together now we are happy on our way

Image found at www.pixabay.com


Sunday, February 5, 2017

Nothing solved


Who needs to be at peace with the world today?
I do, for I am no soldier fighting fires
Watching people bleed their prayers unanswered
Their fingernails broken, flesh bruised and battered
Who cares who threw the rock or pulled the trigger
Just how important to have names carved in stone?
Whilst their bodies now lie in some foreign field
Dreaming of mothers, wives, children or girlfriends
History is like shreds of paper in the wind
Old doors closed and new ones open up now
I'm browned off at the killing with nothing solved

Image found at www.thelightslowed.blogger.com

In retrospect


Heavy is my heart as I remember war
One to end all others, heard it all before
Pain was all around as aunties cried all day
Husbands in foreign countries died in the affray
It started by a madman pounding his fist
All undesirables added to his list
Poking his weapons in everybody's face
"You worship differently? Then you're a disgrace"
Each plane in the sky droned like an angry wasp
Most of Europe then suffering in his grasp
Compared with sub-humans not the Aryan norm
Killed millions in his outrage caused a bloody storm
So many torn from homelands where once they'd thrived
In the internment camps very few survived
Be wary voters everywhere if you can
Hover like hummmingbirds beware the bogeyman
Learn from the past or in a proper mess you'll be
Lest you are stung by a cruel wasp then you'll see

Image found at www.christopherfischerbooks.com

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Lucky


Lucky those with a voice
Lucky too those with a choice
Lucky? Then rejoice!

Other countries can
But don't, thinking it's a sham
Then will say "Goddam"

When result is poor
You want a second chance? Sure!
Wait for four years more

Image found at www.ndtv.com

Friday, February 3, 2017

The Bard on the web


Oh never say that I was false of heart
Even though thy sweet lips I yearn to kiss
To touch your cheek and soft breasts from the start
Yes, I confess indeed that would be bliss
But I'm so very far away from you
Oceans deep and ache of years make it worse
I want to touch your butterfly tattoo
For feelings unreleased are such a curse
Words wrote freely flow like kisses tender
I dream that you are mine everyday
Both knowing the real heart of the sender
We should like true lovers embrace and play
Everything in this world wide web doth pall
Save thou my rose thou art my very all

Note the first and last lines are used from Shakespeare's Sonnet 109 with a modern day scenario written in between. 

Image found at www.sleepsugar.com



Thursday, February 2, 2017

Look Mandy


Mandy went with her Mom to visit her Grandma like they always did on Wednesdays.

They would get a cup of tea and a biscuit or slice of fruit cake and Mandy would cuddle her cat on her lap who liked nothing better than to be stroked while Grandma talked.  

As usual Grandma would get out her photograph album and talk about the people whose pictures were there that were uncle and aunts, brothers and cousins who Mandy had never known.

“Look Mandy” her Grandma would say “there’s your Grandpa who fought in the war in his uniform” and then she'd show her lots of other people that were relatives that were little children her age from long time ago.

On the way home in the car Mandy asked her mother why always they looked at the old photos of people she didn’t know.

“Haven’t you noticed she looks at you when she show you the pictures, that’s because she’s looking to see if you share the looks of one of the relatives because you are that link that is so important for her from the sisters and cousins of hers that have now died and she'd like to see a part of them in you to show that the family she knew and loved all those years ago are still alive in you.”

Image found at www.altzheimersblog.org

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Courting disaster


How often it is 
That when you spy a beauty
Tangy juicy fruit

Promising so much
They are not what you first thought
They are so vapid

That leave's you unhinged
Mad that they have no substance
A disappointment

Image found at www.flickriver.com

All about trust


Faith is all about trust
Which really is a must
Sailing a ferry in high seas
Horizon moves before your eyes
Or your plane shoots up in the skies
Then you pray all is well
Please don't hear that final bell

Faith is all about trust
Which really is a must
The subway is a well used trip
Train travelling deep down underground
Screeches and makes a rumbling sound
It stops then all the lights go out
How on earth can you get out?

Faith is all about trust
Which really is a must
Now a loved one is really ill
We hold their hand in silent prayer
Then at home we are in despair
And pray through a sleepless night
Phone to check, find all is right

Image found at www.blogging4everyone.info