Three cats on the bed
Like a Venn diagram
Each in a space
Far enough away
Not to menace
Or chase.
It’s fine for them
Keeping warm
But what shape
Do I have to make
To sleep in the space
That’s left?
Cats
Tag: Poetry
My fridge door
I stick things on
Move them round
Plonk one magnet
Then another
And I get…
Memories and laughs
It’s just another surface
To cover…
By the way
I like black and white!
Paints, brushes, canvas?
What are three objects you couldn’t live without?
I tell a lie,
I could live
But would life be worth it?
Colours swirl and fade,
Brushstrokes create
Patterned surfaces
Canvas grabs paint
Textures grow
Light seems to flow.
No, without my creative things
A life of sadness it brings.
Give me my paints,
I will build mountains
Canvas for landscape
Or face?
Who knows.
Brushes manipulate
Joy it creates.
Memories
I’m finding old portraits
Portals to a previous time
Not photographic images
But paint on canvas
You made me smile
You made me laugh
And cry too
So I hold onto these
Small tokens of love
With all my strength.
X
Mahonia
Mahonia with it’s spiky leaf
Tinged with winter frost
Brushed bronzes
Of Autumn colours
In the Spring.
But orange tints
will be replaced
As soon new life
Engulfs the place
Bright greens and pinks
Yellow flowers
Full of dew
Red, orange, blue
Then colours of
a summer hue..
Till autumn and then
winter comes
And the seasons round
Begins again.
Year of the Dragon…?
A collage I’m playing with
Gold foil and acrylic
Fiery and fierce
Flaming colours
Spiral out
Blowing out smoke
Of the dragons snout!
Another cat?
My boy cats twin
Came in tonight
Peering round the door
He’s got the same splodge
On his nose
Or just a little more?
T’other cat assumed the pose
Of cat ready to pounce
Then off he shot
And saw it off
Through the catflap
With a Roar!
Springs coming
Flowers are coming
So is the green
Hoping I’m grinning
When they are seen
Multicoloured blooms
Loom out of the gloom!
Daisies and daffodils
And snowdrops too
Reflecting a sky
Of brilliant blue!
My old sandals
Tell us about your favorite pair of shoes, and where they’ve taken you.
Not flip flos
Not beach sandals
Proper walking sandals
Have taken me up and down
Hills and paths
Through fords
Into the sea
On hot days and pebble beaches
Foreshore, piers
Along garden paths
Looking for minnows
In shallows
Sandals that supported me
Sandals that transported me
Sandals I tore off
When my feet got stuck in mud
Sandals that wore out
Heels worn down
Sandals full of grit and memory
That guided my feet..
To you
He used to climb
When he was young he used to climb
But I had no head for heights
He’d climb down cliffs
Or up tall pikes
While I stood by in fear
He’d disappear below my view
And I would cower in dread
Till he came back from his perch
On steps above the sea.
He never slipped, or dropped or fell
I was so proud of him
While I crawled on hands and knees
A victim of vertigo,
Atop the smallest hill!
Now he had fallen out of sight
Never to reappear
But I will wait and hope one day
I’ll join him safely, my fate?
Mallaband-Brown 