Day 8 Scent

8th Oct 2019

Carrying on with the poem a day through October. 

Today's prompt is "scent".


Grass

Early May morning,
Soft new- mown downs spongy underfoot,
Shafts of yellow dancing on sea,
Cotton wool clouds dotted in blue expanse,
Slight breeze, adds salty mist
To grassy reminiscences:
I wake up in Irish cottage,
Snuggled warm in summer’s embrace,
Beside my grandmother.
Delicate, sweet smell of grass
Wafts through open window
From fields with cowpats freshly planted,
Mixes with body odour , of her-
I breathe in the perfume of a new promise,
A familiar narcotic of nurture,
Dreamlike – security, history, joy

Blue Irises

9th June 2018

May and June 

I really cannot believe that we're nearly in the middle of June. I had so many plans to enjoy the last weeks of May and the month of June - my favourite. Not that I'm not enjoying them , no, but I had intended to make the most of the longer days by getting more walks by the sea and spending more time out of doors. Playing tennis with the grandchildren etc etc...
It's still my plan, but now I have less time and I feel as if we only have a few weeks ( which we do) before the days start to draw themselves together, giving us less daylight hours. I mean,  in seven or eight weeks time it will be dark by eight or nine.
I'm not a sun worshiper or anything but, I do like the months of May and June - just saying y'all..

I am looking out at the pond from the, now "shared",  studio and I see tall Irises, their blue flowers with no effort at all reaching heavenward. Radiant and glorious they fulfill their purpose.

I Set Out To Meet You 
I set out to meet you
not sure I'm going
I put my trust in the instructions
A light bag slung over my shoulder
containing a bottle of water,
and small cheese sandwich,
and sandals on my feet
for the day is mild.
I pass the factory on the left,
stop, listen,
machines break into the birdsong
quench it -  momentarily.
And rats scuttle in front of me.
I move on ,
 second road on the left
a residential road with its avenue of trees
and anonymous inhabitants
behind net curtains.
Hidden eyes follow
to the end , when I  turn
and walk down a country lane
until I reach the pond
where I wait .
It's where you told me to be.
Clouds gather and I notice
I'm getting wet.
I stand under a tree
but the clouds move swiftly,
turn black.
The rain comes down.
But then I see you.
I slosh through mud , quicken my pace
clothes dripping and heavy
Now you see me and rush to meet me
And together we walk on

The Paint has Dried all Blue

9th Nov 2017



Prompt from six sentence stories :

Baked

The Paint has Dried all Blue

Lily fell backwards and turned her face away to avoid the hot air as she opened the oven door.
"Be careful," called her father from the living room where he sat, surrounded by papers, old photos and  plates and cups with food congealed hard into them.
She carried the tray with a tea towel, stepping between all the debris and stood in front of him, her fair hair falling in wispy waves down her red face.
"Look dad, the paint has dried all blue," she frowned as put the figures that she'd baked on the floor in front of him and knelt beside them.
"They're lovely, hun and mum would be so proud of you carrying on her tradition," he stroked her head with one hand whilst wiping away a tear with the other.
Lily's mum had died of cancer eight months before at the age of thirty seven and Lily struggled to do everything she thought her mother would have liked , including making crib figures out of salt dough, which was an activity they normally did together.

Blue

                                                                                15th October

Well it's the 15th day of the poetry challenge and almost half way there. I've been trying to figure a way to post poems while I'm away for a few days without my computer or access to one.
I might have to post three on Thursday all together. I hope that counts for the poem a day thing. If not , It can't be helped - more to do with technology difficulties than unwillingness to get creative .
Anyway for today then, the prompt being "Blue"

                            Blue

Some warming up, some bending and chatting - most standing , waiting, going blue with the cold.
Young, not so young, men, women , girls, boys, all shapes and sizes all gathered to do the 5K park run.
One youngish woman - well younger than me by quite a bit - befriended this older specimen
And as we ran, following the 35 minute pacer , we talked a bit, for a bit, until , and I knew it would come,
I couldn't breathe.
So, on we go together, even though she is faster than me- she kindly keeps me company.
In a way, running is like writing - a solitary activity - out in the evenings counting the lamp posts
In your own world.
Writing, the same, at your desk, dreaming and pondering what comes next,
In your own world,
Then get together with others to practice - either writing or running - but still it's down to just you
You share the experience but you can't share the doing of it and you're
In you're own world.
My new friend crossed the line after me so I would not be last -  friend for life now
My time - 42.01 minutes - her PB -  36.00- Thanks friend

Thread / Winter 2020

10th Feb 2020

A couple of pieces from 2016 . I've altered them slightly.

Spent some lovely time yesterday playing with the grandchildren. We played fast moving, competitive card game which I found I was way too slow at. Oh well ... Thoroughly enjoyed it though. It made me think how good it is too play.


                                              Thread

Hold on to that thread,

Let it hang  from those past bones

A day of purpose

Where every movement has its reason,

The growing flower its timely season,

Where what has been

Has come to this,

And this is the softness of the 

Song of delight.

Hold on to that thread,

Though not too tightly

For each second signifies the next,

Each gossamer strand shall be broken,

Left behind 

To free the mind

Winter

That crisp morning:

The grass wearing a light cover
 as of icing sugar,

Icy pond still - reflecting 

The chill,

Of my nose.

And you with your story,

Made my bones shiver.

How to unthink,

Unlink,

From memory.

How to box in,

Within.

How to warm through ,

the blue.