In other news
The sun’s still shining,
In other news
A baby’s smile,
In other news
The worlds still turning,
In other news
The cat still purrs,
In other news
That cow just farted,
In other news
I am amused.
Tag: Poem
Hunker down
Hunker down,
Hide and sleep
Find your dreams
And hug them deep.
Find a space
Where you can live
Where things are quiet
And silence keep.
Make a nest
Make a bed,
Stay inside
But in your head
Take a flight
Around your room,
Then through the open window
Zoom!
Above the world
The air is clear
The sky is bright
Bird song, you hear.
Look down on streets
So still so quiet,
With hunkered people
Bunkered, still.
But you are free
And safe to soar
Flying high
No fear
Just dreams.
(from an idea inspired by Martha Kennedys blog ‘I am a writer, yes I am’.)
Leaf like a skull
Grey stone,
old flags,
animal skull,
leaf litter.
Age old,
crushed underfoot,
crumpled and twisted,
dog or dragon.
Brown veined,
vegetable bone,
dry surface,
gone.
3am again
There’s a bright star,
high in the sky.
It’s 3am again,
and I’m driven to wake,
to write
Like an owl I stay awake,
listening to cars,
passing.
So few in these days,
often in the past,
there would be footsteps,
or shouting.
Now there is silence,
deep in this city,
only the odd murmur of traffic.
The click and whir of central heating,
the maniacal hum of the fridge,
the oil heater thermostat kicking in.
Freezing night,
3am,
too early for the dawn chorus.
The rest of the city sleeps, perhaps….
Unsettled dreams
Of corn fields,
clay fields,
beaches and trees,
freedom,
escape from imprisonment,
at 3am I shall sleep.
Stockpiling
When your cupboards are full,
with tins overflowing,
think of the poor,
who can’t buy their food.
Profiteering raises,
the price of their goods,
people are buying
ten times their needs.
Stop being selfish, or frightened,
or stupid,
care for your fellows
and show empathy.
Interesting times
We live in difficult times,
In a bubble where nothing can touch us,
In a dream world of Internet lies,
In a world where one touch can kill us,
Yes we live in interesting times.
We live where a cold can be fatal,
Where a virus is writing our fate,
In a world where borders can’t save us,
We must act before it’s too late.
Don’t think the world is over,
We must fight till the end is right here,
No one knows what resolve will save us.
But we live in interesting times.
Fly high…
The photo was at Westport lake cafe last week….
Fly high
Be free
Chase stars,
Find the sea.
Love life
Soar away
Chase shadows
Enjoy the day
Spring soon
Will be at hand
Daffodils
Across the land
Give hope
To one and all
Fly free
Natures thrall.
Listening to TV..
I can’t watch it,
too much to see.
So many problems,
so much poverty.
Instead I listen,
I’m listening to the fridge,
it crackles and hums,
it’s never been right,
since we got it last spring.
I listen for the kettle,
time for a drink,
a warm cup of coffee,
while I sit and think.
I listen to the weather,
the sound of the wind,
hearing the rain,
on the roof its pounding!
I listen to the cat,
soft purrs hit my ears,
a relaxing sound,
brings peace and stops fears.
Memory of Stephen Hawking
Is it two years since he died?
The world has turned,
and moved on in space,
his time line has ended,
gone away from this place.
Professor of physics,
thinker of time,
despite limitations,
he was free in his mind.
Living with illness,
he did more with his thoughts,
gave us new insights
into the Universe.
Looked at Blackholes,
from inside and out,
and Big Bang theory,
he knew such a lot.
Famous for explaining,
in book and in words,
the working of the universe,
in ‘A brief History of Time’.
Apologies for this poem, it is not well written or rhymed, but the image popped up on my memories page, and I was surprised at how much time had passed. I wonder what he would make of the world now?
Tree trunks
He has tree trunk legs,
Tree trunk knees,
There is a nest
Of tree trunk bees.
He has tree trunk arms,
And tree trunk ears,
Made of wood
He has a tree trunk soul.
The leaves have fallen,
From his branching head,
The winter comes,
And he looks dead.
But when sap arises,
Come the spring,
He’ll be renewed
And start again.
Mallaband-Brown 