Grey Dawn awoke me
Went to bed at three
Read a book to soothe
But could not grasp sleep
Dreaming the word eluded
My mind on fire
Swirling like smoke
Snap a nap then awoke…
I want to find a way in
To oblivion.
Three hours sleep.
Tag: Poem
Old TV
When I was young we used to see
Children’s programmes on tv
Chigley, Trumpton, Camberwick Green
Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb were seen.
Then came the Herbs and a dog called Dill.
Parsley the Lion, I remember him still….
The theme music that we would sing
The Clangers, and Magpie, fun they’d bring
Puppet shows galore there were on TV
Like Stingray and Thunderbirds you’d see.
With Bill and Ben
Wild flowerpot men!
So much to remember from years ago
When I was a child…Memory fast not slow!
Looking forward
To flowers
And plants
Geranium, poppy, fushias
Petunias and surfinias
Mounds of green leaves
Hidden tomato plants
Surrounded by scent
Wild and cultivated
Hanging baskets blooming
Like overflowing fountains
I hope summer is here soon.
Little friend
Every night she paws in,
Footpads run and jump
Up on the bed
Miaow, purr, headbutted
Poddled by her paws
Seeking love
Then she sits
On my chest.
Miew for a head scratch
Tickle behind the ears
Stroke her back
Give love and receive love.
Little cat, big love.
Renewed
I was sad to see winter
I want life to be renewed
Green and gold leaves
Pink blossom
Blue sky with fluffy clouds
Pour on a wash of yellow
Daffodils and tulips
Give me Spring!
Now.
Hot
I am not cold tonight
I’m hot
Spicy food got me
I feel heated up
My blood boils
Thirst grabs my throat.
A bit of spice attacks
Makes me blaze
Too much flavour
I like some spices
But chilli does not make me chilly
It makes me hot
Burning mouth
Need water
Less next time
Please
Sleep
I close my eyes and wish
For sleep to kiss my cheek
Caress my tired neck
And let me rest my mind.
Instead I lie awake
Uncomfortable and sad
If I could ignore the world
Lose my thoughts
I would be glad.
Night ticks into day
Light blooms in my eyes
I want real sleep to stay
To end my tired gloom.
Still there….
The tall chimney tapers
High up in the air
Birds soar around its slender height.
Blustery and white
Clouds scud across the blue
A memorial to ancient potters
Who wheezed in its smoky shadow.
Coughed clay into spittoons
Made and created beauty
Paid little
Working hard
In their race to death.
Imagined sky
Those clouds aren’t real!
Not cirrus or cumulus
Not lenticular or mackerel
You played with the photo
Didn’t you?
Messing about with the sky
Those clouds up high
Could be on Jupiter
Or Mars!
But not here!
Get that clear!
Six months…
Six months since I lost you
Six months of sorrow
I don’t remember every day
But milestones on the way
Remind me of a voice lost
A physical presence gone.
When I feel down the loss is greater
I dispare that your life is over.
I still pray for you at night
And I wish with all my might
That you were still here
Even if you were not near
Sister, twin, friend
My love to you
I send.
Mallaband-Brown 