Wednesday, 1 October 2014

A Four Letter Word

Your mind, I'm guessing, is not clean
You imagine something quite obscene
But a title must act as a lure
This poet likes to be obscure.

The word I want to write about
Is universal, I've no doubt
We spend so much of every day
Pent up, annoyed, in disarray.

We WAIT - for buses, trams and trains
In queues in hopes of changing lanes
In shops we stand and wait to pay
For flights – there's often a delay.

We wait for Fridays – the week-end
We wait, not patiently, to end
A dreary meeting which drags by
So we can watch a match on Sky.

Life's a rush so it's nature's way
Of making us reflect each day
A wait gives us a breathing space
A moment to slow down our pace!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014


Monday, 29 September 2014

Star Wedding in Venice

At 53 our darling George
Whose looks are known world wide
Has decided a firm bond to forge
And made Amal his bride.

Twice Oscar winner, winning smile
His hair a silver grey
He takes his vows in splendid style
One would think the Doge holds sway!

The lawyer and the actor make
A photogenic pair
But their happiness is now at stake
Out of the camera's glare!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014




Sunday, 28 September 2014

Isaac Arrives!

Thoughts of the Bible spring to mind
Elijah the Judge, both bold and kind
Learns God has a heart of gold
As he welcomes to the family fold

His brother new – a dark-haired babe
Who has put him gently in the shade.
Born the 27th of September
A date he's too small to remember,

The new lad, Isaac Benjamin,
The joy of Sheena and of Tim
Is welcomed in the family clan;
Already I am a big fan!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014




Saturday, 27 September 2014

Explaining the Unexplainable

I suppose, he said, you can explain
How you write, and make it plain
How you put your thoughts in words;
Is it an image that occurs?

Or perhaps an expression you have heard
An atmosphere that now has stirred
The deepest pool within your soul?
Tell me, I'd so like to know.

The poet sat awhile and thought;
It isn't something that you're taught
More a compulsion - you must write
Words appear and settle tight

In phrases long and short - plus clauses
Often with dramatic pauses;
An idea burgeons on the page
Who knows what prompts it at this stage?

But the brain untangles all the clues
Syllables scan – that is good news
I cannot tell you how it's done;
Eureka – here's another one!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014


Friday, 26 September 2014

The Harpist

In a leafy glade in the Royal Park
Appeared the lady with her harp;
Neatly encased in a soft, dark cape,
I wondered what sounds it would make.

She held it close as they came along
The day was cool but the sun still shone
Up the bandstand steps she brought
Her modern lyre; checked wires were taut.

We were called upon from different spheres
To pour balm onto troubled ears
In performance she began to strum
Hauntingly the slow notes come.

I'd never thought that I would read
My poems at this lilting speed
But together we were in accord;
My words came off the page and soared.

(c) Poet in the woods 2014



For A "Relay for Life" event

Thursday, 25 September 2014

Autumn in our Sights

Magritte sky - autumnal rays
What spectacular displays
As leaves begin to crisp and turn
Sun-scorched they crinkle up and burn.

Each day the sunlight becomes less
The wind gets up, engenders stress
Boughs creak and falter; it's a fight
Not all leaves can hold on tight.

Flocks of birds are on the wing
They sense the change, a built-in spring
Compelled by nature to depart
South to Africa's warm heart.

Humans have to bear the brunt
Of cooler autumn; roams the hunt
In dappled forests – so beware
Death and Beauty make a pair!

(c) Poet in the woods 2014



Monday, 22 September 2014

On Writing "A Turn in the Road"

I had no idea when this all began
And I found myself without my man,
Who left me feeling sad, alone
As Cancer claimed him for its own -

That nearly ten years down the track
Full knowing he would not come back
I would launch a tribute all in rhyme
To this dear human being – mine.

This journal of bereavement verse
A kind of therapy at first
Seemed to reach out and touch souls
Whose hearts were scorched by Death's harsh coals.

A searing, burning, crushing pain
Altered me – no more the same;
But transmuted as the years went by
Into a dull ache; I got by.

Now these memories take flight
And all around me burns new light
While many walk where I once strode
And come to «A Turn in the Road».

(c) Poet in the woods 2014