A poem for every day in April
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Can I write a poem every day of the year?
I am challenging myself to write a poem every day for a year. My daughter lensmaster meltedrachel is always making challenges for herself and her friends to keep her motivated with her art work so I am taking a leaf out of her book. I love poetry and love writing it. Sometimes it goes well and sometimes it does not. Come with me on my journey to make 365 poems by April 2011.
Contents at a Glance
Soon gone
1.04.11
The daffodils are blooming
On each side of the road
As we drive into the village
To reach our abode.
They are so bright and cheering,
Their golden heads look down
And my spirits are lifted
As they brighten up the town.
Another month and they will be gone,
We'll miss the merry sight,
But our eyes will soon be gladdened
By flowers of another light.
On each side of the road
As we drive into the village
To reach our abode.
They are so bright and cheering,
Their golden heads look down
And my spirits are lifted
As they brighten up the town.
Another month and they will be gone,
We'll miss the merry sight,
But our eyes will soon be gladdened
By flowers of another light.
Look ahead
April 2nd, 2011
April is a time for showers.
Leads on to the beauty of May flowers.
So in life when times are sad
The way is made,
Later to be glad.
No life is wholly black with gloom,
Sadness is only making room
For days of joy ahead.
Hold on to this thought
With joy in your heart,
The day will come ,
When we will not part.
Leads on to the beauty of May flowers.
So in life when times are sad
The way is made,
Later to be glad.
No life is wholly black with gloom,
Sadness is only making room
For days of joy ahead.
Hold on to this thought
With joy in your heart,
The day will come ,
When we will not part.
A Useful Life
April 3rd, 2011
Daffodils stand in April
And may is on the branch.
The sun shines forth in splendour
All makes the heart dance.
Spring lifts up the spirits
Gloom is far away.
The flowers and birds gladden us,
Everything is gay.
Why can't we have this time of year
All year around?
The darkness of the winter
Is what makes this abound.
The little flowers must have their sleep
Under the cushioning earth.
Just as we must have our womb time
Before we come to birth.
And sleep is still a mystery
But we need it nontheless
If we would live a useful life
Other lives to bless.
And may is on the branch.
The sun shines forth in splendour
All makes the heart dance.
Spring lifts up the spirits
Gloom is far away.
The flowers and birds gladden us,
Everything is gay.
Why can't we have this time of year
All year around?
The darkness of the winter
Is what makes this abound.
The little flowers must have their sleep
Under the cushioning earth.
Just as we must have our womb time
Before we come to birth.
And sleep is still a mystery
But we need it nontheless
If we would live a useful life
Other lives to bless.
April Fields
April 4th, 2011
Wandering lonely
Through April fields,
Buttercups and daisies
The Spring yields.
Feel the grass
On sun-kissed toes
Travel on
Free from woes.
Why will this feeling
Of bliss not stay,
When I leave
The fields of hay?
For a moment all was well,
All was bright and right.
Now I return to the doubts
Of an October night.
Through April fields,
Buttercups and daisies
The Spring yields.
Feel the grass
On sun-kissed toes
Travel on
Free from woes.
Why will this feeling
Of bliss not stay,
When I leave
The fields of hay?
For a moment all was well,
All was bright and right.
Now I return to the doubts
Of an October night.
Destination, nearly
April 5th, 2011
My wonted destination
Is soon within my grasp.
For twelve months
I have written
Nor stopped for one gasp.
Each day a fair poem
Has sprung from my brain,
Following fast
On its fellow
In one long train.
The end is in sight
Just one more day to go.
Will I be left with purpose gone,
Will it be so?
I fancy I will write some more
In some other place.
Poems to resonate
And fill my page with grace.
Is soon within my grasp.
For twelve months
I have written
Nor stopped for one gasp.
Each day a fair poem
Has sprung from my brain,
Following fast
On its fellow
In one long train.
The end is in sight
Just one more day to go.
Will I be left with purpose gone,
Will it be so?
I fancy I will write some more
In some other place.
Poems to resonate
And fill my page with grace.
Triumphant Fanfare
The end of the trail
April 6th, 2011
The fateful day arrives,
The challenge fulfilled.
For 365 days
Poems have poured from my pen.
I feel exultant
And although tomorrow may seem flat,
I have accomplished much.
How glad I am
I took this challenge in hand,
For without it
Many poems
Would never have been born,
would have remained
In my brain
In seedling form,
To be re-absorbed
Into the teeming thoughts,
Which never see the light of day.
But now there is triumph
In the ones written
And I can re-read them,
Sort the weak from the strong
And learn from the experience.
The challenge fulfilled.
For 365 days
Poems have poured from my pen.
I feel exultant
And although tomorrow may seem flat,
I have accomplished much.
How glad I am
I took this challenge in hand,
For without it
Many poems
Would never have been born,
would have remained
In my brain
In seedling form,
To be re-absorbed
Into the teeming thoughts,
Which never see the light of day.
But now there is triumph
In the ones written
And I can re-read them,
Sort the weak from the strong
And learn from the experience.
Spring 7.04.10
And so reluctantly winter
Gives way to Spring.
Through the dead leaves
Push up the daffodils,
Their bouncing, golden heads
Dancing in the sunlight.
In the wind, winter still
Tries to keep its hold,
But the sun grows bolder
And stays with us longer
Into the calm evenings.
The urgency of Spring
At first fills us all
With drowsiness.
We cannot cope with all
That rampant strength with which
Spring bursts through
The bonds of winter.
But oh what joy
To share with Wordsworth
The happy sight of
Breeze blown daffodils.
Gives way to Spring.
Through the dead leaves
Push up the daffodils,
Their bouncing, golden heads
Dancing in the sunlight.
In the wind, winter still
Tries to keep its hold,
But the sun grows bolder
And stays with us longer
Into the calm evenings.
The urgency of Spring
At first fills us all
With drowsiness.
We cannot cope with all
That rampant strength with which
Spring bursts through
The bonds of winter.
But oh what joy
To share with Wordsworth
The happy sight of
Breeze blown daffodils.
"Quivering and dancing in the breeze"
Is this a challenge too far?
Encourage me by visiting daily. Will I be able to keep up some sort of standard, or will I descend into drivel? This will begin life, necessarily as a rather short lens, but if I succeed I will have to move on to a new lens now and again or it will become unwieldy. I start hopefully, watch my progress.
Waiting at the airport for a friend 8.04.10
The baggage carousel
Sits placidly empty,
Awaiting arrivals from Malaga.
Someone has kindly put a notice
"Do not sit on the baggage carousel."
Protecting it from such thoughtless use.
Only one more flight before that of my friend.
Time to reflect in this hall
Sparsely provided with seats.
Would the carousel really mind, I ponder,
If I put my moderate bum on it?
The flight from Newcastle has landed.
Next will be my friend's.
Three more minutes to go.
And still the carousel looks inviting
I sway on my slightly aching legs
And drift into a numbness of brain.
Why do we so dislike waiting
When much of life is just that?
Her plane has landed.
Now the wait.
The people from Newcastle are here,
Some kindly, light baggaged to save the carousel.
Others cluster around
Awaiting their cruel cases.
The warning light flashes
And the carousel is off on its clattery journey, around and back.
One lonely bag continues on
And the carousel stops.
It looks as if it wants to slough off the lonely bag.
An attendant rescues it - the bag, or the carousel? I wonder!
Another wait and then another weight -
The cases from Malaga.
Sits placidly empty,
Awaiting arrivals from Malaga.
Someone has kindly put a notice
"Do not sit on the baggage carousel."
Protecting it from such thoughtless use.
Only one more flight before that of my friend.
Time to reflect in this hall
Sparsely provided with seats.
Would the carousel really mind, I ponder,
If I put my moderate bum on it?
The flight from Newcastle has landed.
Next will be my friend's.
Three more minutes to go.
And still the carousel looks inviting
I sway on my slightly aching legs
And drift into a numbness of brain.
Why do we so dislike waiting
When much of life is just that?
Her plane has landed.
Now the wait.
The people from Newcastle are here,
Some kindly, light baggaged to save the carousel.
Others cluster around
Awaiting their cruel cases.
The warning light flashes
And the carousel is off on its clattery journey, around and back.
One lonely bag continues on
And the carousel stops.
It looks as if it wants to slough off the lonely bag.
An attendant rescues it - the bag, or the carousel? I wonder!
Another wait and then another weight -
The cases from Malaga.
Daffodils by the cottage
Angeline 9.04.10
Angeline is good
And Angeline is kind,
But she likes my company too much.
Sometimes it is a bind.
But Angeline is worth knowing,
She is a friend in need,
And when I've thoroughly trained her,
Oh if I can succeed,
She will be the very best of friends,
The very best indeed.
And Angeline is kind,
But she likes my company too much.
Sometimes it is a bind.
But Angeline is worth knowing,
She is a friend in need,
And when I've thoroughly trained her,
Oh if I can succeed,
She will be the very best of friends,
The very best indeed.
The poetry of flowers
Denial 10.04.10
Denial is so cosy.
Denial is so kind.
A tremendous comfort
When evil is besetting you.
Enjoy it while you can
Before reality
Knocks on your door,
With persistent urgency,
Opening the flood gates
To let denial
Flow away.
Denial is so kind.
A tremendous comfort
When evil is besetting you.
Enjoy it while you can
Before reality
Knocks on your door,
With persistent urgency,
Opening the flood gates
To let denial
Flow away.
Try my sorrowful poems
These might help in times of sorrow
A very personal look at sorrow
Poetry is pondering 11.04.10
Poetry is pondering
On the quirky things of life.
Poetry is eating without a fork or knife.
Poetry is the blooming flower
That blows upon the heath.
Poetry is the meaning
You find deep underneath.
Poetry is my friend, my song.
It charms me
When the day is long.
It teaches me so many things
And always, ever sweetly sings
On the quirky things of life.
Poetry is eating without a fork or knife.
Poetry is the blooming flower
That blows upon the heath.
Poetry is the meaning
You find deep underneath.
Poetry is my friend, my song.
It charms me
When the day is long.
It teaches me so many things
And always, ever sweetly sings
Blessings 12.04.10
Thank you for a lovely day,
Now its bedtime,
I come to pray.
To say my thanks
For all that's good.
For all that's grand.
Most of it
I hadn't planned.
But God is good
And gives to me
So many blessings
Rich and free.
When times get hard
I must remember
These days of plenty,
Undeserved
Provided by a loving Lord
Now its bedtime,
I come to pray.
To say my thanks
For all that's good.
For all that's grand.
Most of it
I hadn't planned.
But God is good
And gives to me
So many blessings
Rich and free.
When times get hard
I must remember
These days of plenty,
Undeserved
Provided by a loving Lord
Old man 13.04.10
Old man you are ninety-six.
You have just become
An amputee.
Where do you get
the strength to continue?
That leg has done well.
It was under threat in
Fifty-three
When you fell off
The parish hall roof.
Then it was reprieved
And it has done you proud
To last so long.
But now it's gone
And bravely you learn
To walk on a false leg.
What fortitude
Determination and persistence
You have.
You put us younger ones to shame.
What a paradox,
The young die early
Yet full of promise,
While the old
Cling tenaciously to life,
Tho' they have already
Drunk it to the dregs.
You have just become
An amputee.
Where do you get
the strength to continue?
That leg has done well.
It was under threat in
Fifty-three
When you fell off
The parish hall roof.
Then it was reprieved
And it has done you proud
To last so long.
But now it's gone
And bravely you learn
To walk on a false leg.
What fortitude
Determination and persistence
You have.
You put us younger ones to shame.
What a paradox,
The young die early
Yet full of promise,
While the old
Cling tenaciously to life,
Tho' they have already
Drunk it to the dregs.
After divorce 14.04.10
How cosy my bed,
All to myself.
No-one to mind if I kick
Or snore.
Electric blanket keeping me warm,
Double duvet unshared.
This selfishness is positively delightful.
Room in disarray,
No-one to grumble.
Why ever did I pity
My unmarried sister'
Sad without a mister.
I tried two but found them wanting.
Good enough men,
But not up to my exacting standards.
Now I'm free as a bird,
A bird that twitters from a pulpit.
All to myself.
No-one to mind if I kick
Or snore.
Electric blanket keeping me warm,
Double duvet unshared.
This selfishness is positively delightful.
Room in disarray,
No-one to grumble.
Why ever did I pity
My unmarried sister'
Sad without a mister.
I tried two but found them wanting.
Good enough men,
But not up to my exacting standards.
Now I'm free as a bird,
A bird that twitters from a pulpit.
A walk and a whinge 15.04.10
We've been for a lovely walk
And seen the countryside,
The sun was shining brightly,
But look out,
And woe betide.
We've come back feeling grumpy,
The ride is getting bumpy.
We've had such a good time.
Why does it change?
There are ups and downs in life my dearie.
It cannot all be smooth and cheerie.
For you it might be
That you thought you might read
A sensible poem,
Oh yes, indeed.
Instead you get drivel,
Because I'm tired.
But you get a little insight
Into the way I'm wired.
Hey ho, tomorrow is another day,
"Let's hope the muse
Comes back,"you say.
Comes back to speak of higher things,
Of birds and bees
And butterfly wings.
And seen the countryside,
The sun was shining brightly,
But look out,
And woe betide.
We've come back feeling grumpy,
The ride is getting bumpy.
We've had such a good time.
Why does it change?
There are ups and downs in life my dearie.
It cannot all be smooth and cheerie.
For you it might be
That you thought you might read
A sensible poem,
Oh yes, indeed.
Instead you get drivel,
Because I'm tired.
But you get a little insight
Into the way I'm wired.
Hey ho, tomorrow is another day,
"Let's hope the muse
Comes back,"you say.
Comes back to speak of higher things,
Of birds and bees
And butterfly wings.
The golden hoard 16.04.10
"Beside the lake,
Beneath the trees."
They're back again
That golden crew.
The daffodils and narcissi,
Here each to gladden the eye.
Egg yolk yellow
Standing on stems of green.
Telling us Spring is here.
Winter wind so keen
Has softened to a gentler mien.
Rooks are calling from the field,
Stealing from the farmer's yield,
Building nests high in the trees,
Where they'll feel the summer's breeze.
Down below bob golden heads,
Standing in their soft, brown beds.
But not for long,
The season passes
Golden daffs in their masses
Go to seed and thus make way
For other blooms
to flower in May.
How short a time you spend in bloom
How long you spend in gloom.
Fill your bulbs with food
Sunshine and rain
Ready for next year
To gladden our eye again
(With thanks to Wordsworth for the first two lines)
Beneath the trees."
They're back again
That golden crew.
The daffodils and narcissi,
Here each to gladden the eye.
Egg yolk yellow
Standing on stems of green.
Telling us Spring is here.
Winter wind so keen
Has softened to a gentler mien.
Rooks are calling from the field,
Stealing from the farmer's yield,
Building nests high in the trees,
Where they'll feel the summer's breeze.
Down below bob golden heads,
Standing in their soft, brown beds.
But not for long,
The season passes
Golden daffs in their masses
Go to seed and thus make way
For other blooms
to flower in May.
How short a time you spend in bloom
How long you spend in gloom.
Fill your bulbs with food
Sunshine and rain
Ready for next year
To gladden our eye again
(With thanks to Wordsworth for the first two lines)
Be alive, be awake 17.04.10
I have a passion
I want to preach God's word,
But not just in the church,
Where it's always heard.
I want to take the love of Christ
To people still unknowing.
The ones in darkness walking,
Knowing not where they are going.
There are many waiting
To hear the news,
Many out of church,
who come not to the pews.
Many longing for the truth
Ready to be found.
Baffled by this life
And its mysteries profound.
We know the way in jesus found
Surely then
We should spread it all around.
Jesus the friend of sinners
Doesn't want then kept in the dark.
Take the message where you go
This christian life isn't meant to be a lark.
We are failing in our duty
If we stay just in the church.
The need is all around
We can find the harvest waiting
Without much of a search.
So call upon the Lord
To fill you with his Spirit to the brim
To set you on fire,
With holy desire,
To bring his children in.
I want to preach God's word,
But not just in the church,
Where it's always heard.
I want to take the love of Christ
To people still unknowing.
The ones in darkness walking,
Knowing not where they are going.
There are many waiting
To hear the news,
Many out of church,
who come not to the pews.
Many longing for the truth
Ready to be found.
Baffled by this life
And its mysteries profound.
We know the way in jesus found
Surely then
We should spread it all around.
Jesus the friend of sinners
Doesn't want then kept in the dark.
Take the message where you go
This christian life isn't meant to be a lark.
We are failing in our duty
If we stay just in the church.
The need is all around
We can find the harvest waiting
Without much of a search.
So call upon the Lord
To fill you with his Spirit to the brim
To set you on fire,
With holy desire,
To bring his children in.
Take a look at these books
Because I said I would 18.04.10
I have to write a poem
Because I said I would.
It may be weak and weary,
Or it may be very good.
Each day I have this problem.
What now can I say,
To brighten up the journey
Of everybody's day?
It can be very little,
Or I can write for pages.
It might be very simple,
Or hold the wisdom of the sages.
I think I've said enough now,
To keep you satisfied.
So it's goodbye until tomorrow
When I will write some more beside.
Because I said I would.
It may be weak and weary,
Or it may be very good.
Each day I have this problem.
What now can I say,
To brighten up the journey
Of everybody's day?
It can be very little,
Or I can write for pages.
It might be very simple,
Or hold the wisdom of the sages.
I think I've said enough now,
To keep you satisfied.
So it's goodbye until tomorrow
When I will write some more beside.
Teasing 19.04.10
What shall I say today,
What mysteries unfold?
Tell of hidden depths
Of cerebral riches before untold?
Will I let you into my secrets,
Tell you my deepest thought?
Or palm you off with nonsense
And reveal to you, just nought?
Will I tell of loves and losses
Reveal my thoughts complete?
Or pretend my way is easy,
My life controlled and neat?
Will I tell you of those
I have loved so desperately?
Or pretend all is calm in my life
That I live so sedately?
For now I will keep you guessing.
You may find that a blessing,
That I don't tell all
At the first call.
What mysteries unfold?
Tell of hidden depths
Of cerebral riches before untold?
Will I let you into my secrets,
Tell you my deepest thought?
Or palm you off with nonsense
And reveal to you, just nought?
Will I tell of loves and losses
Reveal my thoughts complete?
Or pretend my way is easy,
My life controlled and neat?
Will I tell you of those
I have loved so desperately?
Or pretend all is calm in my life
That I live so sedately?
For now I will keep you guessing.
You may find that a blessing,
That I don't tell all
At the first call.
Eyjafjallajokull 20.04.10
Icelandic volcano,
Belching out ash,
When will you stop
Interrupting our mad dash?
Don't you know
We like to rush,
Hither.thither
In the crush
Of other humans
In their dither?
We need our planes
To zoom up high,
Ever reaching
For the sky.
We don't appreciate the pause,
You in your majestic movement cause.
Have you no consideration
For our consternation?
And now you settle somewhat
And so you leave our T.V. set
But look out human beings
If Hekla joins the threat.
Civilization is on the brink.
How far will we sink
Before normality returns?
I leave you there to think.
Would it really be so bad
If we kept in the bounds of our own countries dear,
Ate our own crops and produce
Bought things that were near?
What a saving in fuel
Eating our own gruel.
Each man growing crops
Not needing so many shops.
The earth would bloom
Uncumbered by pollution.
Don't you think this
Would be a grand solution?
So spout on Eyjafjallajokull
Teach us your lesson in full.
When we have settled down
May we remember the lesson of your frown.
Belching out ash,
When will you stop
Interrupting our mad dash?
Don't you know
We like to rush,
Hither.thither
In the crush
Of other humans
In their dither?
We need our planes
To zoom up high,
Ever reaching
For the sky.
We don't appreciate the pause,
You in your majestic movement cause.
Have you no consideration
For our consternation?
And now you settle somewhat
And so you leave our T.V. set
But look out human beings
If Hekla joins the threat.
Civilization is on the brink.
How far will we sink
Before normality returns?
I leave you there to think.
Would it really be so bad
If we kept in the bounds of our own countries dear,
Ate our own crops and produce
Bought things that were near?
What a saving in fuel
Eating our own gruel.
Each man growing crops
Not needing so many shops.
The earth would bloom
Uncumbered by pollution.
Don't you think this
Would be a grand solution?
So spout on Eyjafjallajokull
Teach us your lesson in full.
When we have settled down
May we remember the lesson of your frown.
Some more on simple living by my daughter, meltedrachel
Spring,spring 21.04.10
Spring, spring,
Birds do sing.
Evenings are lighter,
Everything is brighter.
Blue, blue sky
Way up high.
Clouds white and fluffy,
Winds light and puffy.
We go walking,
Enjoy our talking
We walk for miles and mlies.
We come back full of smiles.
Birds do sing.
Evenings are lighter,
Everything is brighter.
Blue, blue sky
Way up high.
Clouds white and fluffy,
Winds light and puffy.
We go walking,
Enjoy our talking
We walk for miles and mlies.
We come back full of smiles.
See the spring flowers in this lens
Orangutan woes 22.04.10
Palm oil grows
Brings orangutan woes.
Tropical rainforest
Crashes to the ground
O what doom this sound
Sends to the orangutan
Orangutan doom
Is our doom too.
The forests clean our air.
We are in despair
Seeing all that man does
To give himself a buzz.
Money, money is all he thinks.
This kind of man stinks.
When will we get our priorities right?
When will we clear our blinkered sight?
As the Indian said,
"You can't eat money."
The cost of palm oil
Is a cost too far.
The outcome is not funny.
Brings orangutan woes.
Tropical rainforest
Crashes to the ground
O what doom this sound
Sends to the orangutan
Orangutan doom
Is our doom too.
The forests clean our air.
We are in despair
Seeing all that man does
To give himself a buzz.
Money, money is all he thinks.
This kind of man stinks.
When will we get our priorities right?
When will we clear our blinkered sight?
As the Indian said,
"You can't eat money."
The cost of palm oil
Is a cost too far.
The outcome is not funny.
See this important lens
Fascinating sparkle 23.04.10
Poems can be
About anything
And there is a lot of that
In this world.
I could speak of coal
Or diamonds.
They tell me they are the same
In essence.
Now why do hard shiny things
Hold such fascination for mankind?
If we all decided
Not to like them
We would put a lot of fat cats
Out of a job.
But we are fascinated by their sparkle.
Those rainbow colours
Darting out from those
Small adamantine stones.
And their sisters
The rubies and sapphires.
They captivate us
And we like to perch them
On our fingers,
Or dangle them from our ears.
How crazy!
I prefer the comfort
Of a good duvet,
Soft and supple,
Caressing me in blissful warmth.
Someone else
Can have those
Hard little stones.
I only own one,
I will sell it.
Let someone else
Enjoy its hard cold comfort.
About anything
And there is a lot of that
In this world.
I could speak of coal
Or diamonds.
They tell me they are the same
In essence.
Now why do hard shiny things
Hold such fascination for mankind?
If we all decided
Not to like them
We would put a lot of fat cats
Out of a job.
But we are fascinated by their sparkle.
Those rainbow colours
Darting out from those
Small adamantine stones.
And their sisters
The rubies and sapphires.
They captivate us
And we like to perch them
On our fingers,
Or dangle them from our ears.
How crazy!
I prefer the comfort
Of a good duvet,
Soft and supple,
Caressing me in blissful warmth.
Someone else
Can have those
Hard little stones.
I only own one,
I will sell it.
Let someone else
Enjoy its hard cold comfort.
Deceptive sparkle
Doubts 24.04.10
I wonder what I have really accomplished today?
Have these mundane things I've done
Mattered in the sum of all things?
Well there has been friendship.
That counts for a lot,
Chatting with friends on the telephone
And encouraging one at first hand
To play the piano.
When feeling well all these things
Undoubtedly have a value,
But when the clouds of depression roll in
It is hard to see value
In anything we do.
All seems a meaningless succession
Of infinitely repeated nonsense, of things
Of little importance
Filling the mediocrity of our life
So hold on to the good times
When the sunshine fills your soul.
Look up and smile
And bless the day
Your depression lifted and
Away went all those feelings
Of self-hate and at last you saw
The worth within yourself.
Have these mundane things I've done
Mattered in the sum of all things?
Well there has been friendship.
That counts for a lot,
Chatting with friends on the telephone
And encouraging one at first hand
To play the piano.
When feeling well all these things
Undoubtedly have a value,
But when the clouds of depression roll in
It is hard to see value
In anything we do.
All seems a meaningless succession
Of infinitely repeated nonsense, of things
Of little importance
Filling the mediocrity of our life
So hold on to the good times
When the sunshine fills your soul.
Look up and smile
And bless the day
Your depression lifted and
Away went all those feelings
Of self-hate and at last you saw
The worth within yourself.
The watcher 25.04.10
What is that little blue light
On the set box
Doing all night,
Staring into my room?
Is it looking for burglars?
Or there to see if I get up
In the night
And wander about?
A little blue eye,
Watching, watching.
Can it hear as well?
Who knows.
But if it hopes
To make me tidier,
By its continual presence
It can think again.
My room will be a riot
Of things expressing my occupations
Through the day.
Unless that is I am expecting visitors.
Then I will present myself
As a tidier soul,
Perjuring myself in the process.
On the set box
Doing all night,
Staring into my room?
Is it looking for burglars?
Or there to see if I get up
In the night
And wander about?
A little blue eye,
Watching, watching.
Can it hear as well?
Who knows.
But if it hopes
To make me tidier,
By its continual presence
It can think again.
My room will be a riot
Of things expressing my occupations
Through the day.
Unless that is I am expecting visitors.
Then I will present myself
As a tidier soul,
Perjuring myself in the process.
Survival 26.04.10
You out there,
In the wide, wide world,
I want to tell you something.
And yet do I have the right
to tell
Anyone,
Anything?
Yes, I have lived sixty-three years.
The fact that I have survived
Gives me the right
To try to pass on
The rules of survival,
To those still struggling
In their twenties and thirties
And forties;
Struggling to make sense
Of this strange life.
I would say
Do not expect
Ease and luxury.
Do not expect fulfillment
At every turn.
There will be good days
And bad days.
And the bad may
Come in an unholy cluster,
Just as you thought
You had reached a good patch.
Fulfilment
Does not come until the end.
This life is about struggle
A struggle to understand
And make sense
Out of seeming nonsense.
It is not meant to be easy
A continual joy ride.
This is a learning ground
And sometimes it is gruelling.
March on, crawl on,
Hold on.
Arrive.
In the wide, wide world,
I want to tell you something.
And yet do I have the right
to tell
Anyone,
Anything?
Yes, I have lived sixty-three years.
The fact that I have survived
Gives me the right
To try to pass on
The rules of survival,
To those still struggling
In their twenties and thirties
And forties;
Struggling to make sense
Of this strange life.
I would say
Do not expect
Ease and luxury.
Do not expect fulfillment
At every turn.
There will be good days
And bad days.
And the bad may
Come in an unholy cluster,
Just as you thought
You had reached a good patch.
Fulfilment
Does not come until the end.
This life is about struggle
A struggle to understand
And make sense
Out of seeming nonsense.
It is not meant to be easy
A continual joy ride.
This is a learning ground
And sometimes it is gruelling.
March on, crawl on,
Hold on.
Arrive.
Pre-school 27.04.10
Hey diddle, diddle,
I'm playing the fiddle
To little children under five.
Will I get out alive?
Of course I will
They will keep quite still,
Unless perchance
I ask them to dance.
To dance to the music
Of bygone times
Those times when poetry
Always had rhymes.
Rhymes are something
They know no longer.
This happens as political correctness
Gets stronger.
No more Humpty Dumpty
Sitting on a wall.
You can't call an egg
Names like that,
It will not do at all.
And so our country's heritage
Is fading fast away
Ofsted rules,
Children must learn
And hardly ever play.
Their heads will soon be bursting
While their bodies run to fat.
The brain is over-exercised
What can we make of that?
Our children need some exercise
Running, skipping, play.
Dancing, jumping, laughing,
As part of every day.
I'm playing the fiddle
To little children under five.
Will I get out alive?
Of course I will
They will keep quite still,
Unless perchance
I ask them to dance.
To dance to the music
Of bygone times
Those times when poetry
Always had rhymes.
Rhymes are something
They know no longer.
This happens as political correctness
Gets stronger.
No more Humpty Dumpty
Sitting on a wall.
You can't call an egg
Names like that,
It will not do at all.
And so our country's heritage
Is fading fast away
Ofsted rules,
Children must learn
And hardly ever play.
Their heads will soon be bursting
While their bodies run to fat.
The brain is over-exercised
What can we make of that?
Our children need some exercise
Running, skipping, play.
Dancing, jumping, laughing,
As part of every day.
This lens reiterates what I have said in the above poem
Dog-sitting 28.04.10
i'm going to be
Dog-sitting in May.
The dog's a bit funny tempered,
So I've come here today
To test the water
To see what she will do.
I got in the door,
That was O.K.
She was just a bit growly
And hid away.
So I'm writing this poem
On tender hooks,
To see if she will come out
And I'll be in her good books.
It's a very nice house
But it has pipework that creaks.
When I come back
In a couple of weeks,
I will stay here all night.
That'll give the dog a fright.
I went in the kitchen to get a drink,
and she didn't growl or even blink.
Then I called her to the other room
and gave her a pat
All seems well
so that's that.
She was still a bit growly
And felt safer in her bed,
So I let her lie.
I wonder if she has been fed?
So my friends
Can go to the wedding
Knowing their dog is safe
In my tender care and keeping,
Their own little waif.
For she is a strange one
It has to be said.
She'll be safe in her basket in the kitchen
While I'm tucked up in the room overhead.
Dog-sitting in May.
The dog's a bit funny tempered,
So I've come here today
To test the water
To see what she will do.
I got in the door,
That was O.K.
She was just a bit growly
And hid away.
So I'm writing this poem
On tender hooks,
To see if she will come out
And I'll be in her good books.
It's a very nice house
But it has pipework that creaks.
When I come back
In a couple of weeks,
I will stay here all night.
That'll give the dog a fright.
I went in the kitchen to get a drink,
and she didn't growl or even blink.
Then I called her to the other room
and gave her a pat
All seems well
so that's that.
She was still a bit growly
And felt safer in her bed,
So I let her lie.
I wonder if she has been fed?
So my friends
Can go to the wedding
Knowing their dog is safe
In my tender care and keeping,
Their own little waif.
For she is a strange one
It has to be said.
She'll be safe in her basket in the kitchen
While I'm tucked up in the room overhead.
Short mat indoor bowls 29.04.10
Let's all play bowls
It will be fun.
You go first,
Let that wood run.
Now my turn,
Oh no, I hear a click,
It's hit the block.
Doesn't it make you sick.
Take it off quick.
I've been playing ten years,
You would think I could get it right.
Your turn again,
Look you've touched the jack.
I can see you're
Going to put up a good fight.
Now me again
I send it back-hand.
I've taken the jack,
Did you see me land?
We were the leads,
Our turns for this end are over.
Let's watch the seconds.
That's right off the side,
A right little rover.
The next is a good back wood,
Waiting to see,
If someone can knock the jack right back.
Who will it be?
The next wood is too heavy
And lands in the ditch.
The next hits the wood on the jack
and flicks it
Right to the one at the back
Now it's the turn of the skips
So we change ends.
These two are so clever,
They can make their woods go around bends.
But they aren't too scintillating,
Nothing changes much.
One even hit the block,
A disappointing touch.
Now that's the end finished
My side has won.
Just nine more ends
And we will have done.
It's fun to play
With luck and skill.
These two combined
For good or ill.
It will be fun.
You go first,
Let that wood run.
Now my turn,
Oh no, I hear a click,
It's hit the block.
Doesn't it make you sick.
Take it off quick.
I've been playing ten years,
You would think I could get it right.
Your turn again,
Look you've touched the jack.
I can see you're
Going to put up a good fight.
Now me again
I send it back-hand.
I've taken the jack,
Did you see me land?
We were the leads,
Our turns for this end are over.
Let's watch the seconds.
That's right off the side,
A right little rover.
The next is a good back wood,
Waiting to see,
If someone can knock the jack right back.
Who will it be?
The next wood is too heavy
And lands in the ditch.
The next hits the wood on the jack
and flicks it
Right to the one at the back
Now it's the turn of the skips
So we change ends.
These two are so clever,
They can make their woods go around bends.
But they aren't too scintillating,
Nothing changes much.
One even hit the block,
A disappointing touch.
Now that's the end finished
My side has won.
Just nine more ends
And we will have done.
It's fun to play
With luck and skill.
These two combined
For good or ill.
Take a look at my lens on short mat bowling
God's presence 30.04.10
And now I sit in the echoing silence,
At the end of another day.
I feel the presence of my God is with me,
As He has been all the way.
Our God is always with us,
But we are too hurried and loud.
We do not sense His presence with us
Till we are humble and bowed.
It is most wonderful
To sense Him near
But we are too rushed and pre-occupied
Through the day to listen and hear.
But now I am still
He is nearer than my breath.
Nearer than my pulse,
How can I fear death
When we have this chance
To feel him near,
How can we foolishly ignore it
Or give way to fear.
The Lord of the universe
Is here tonight.
Let Him take your hand
And lead you aright.
True He is fearsome,
But full of love too.
Jesus has put things right between us,
As only he could do.
Put your hand in his
And trust him now.
The Lord of all calls you,
Won't you bow?
At the end of another day.
I feel the presence of my God is with me,
As He has been all the way.
Our God is always with us,
But we are too hurried and loud.
We do not sense His presence with us
Till we are humble and bowed.
It is most wonderful
To sense Him near
But we are too rushed and pre-occupied
Through the day to listen and hear.
But now I am still
He is nearer than my breath.
Nearer than my pulse,
How can I fear death
When we have this chance
To feel him near,
How can we foolishly ignore it
Or give way to fear.
The Lord of the universe
Is here tonight.
Let Him take your hand
And lead you aright.
True He is fearsome,
But full of love too.
Jesus has put things right between us,
As only he could do.
Put your hand in his
And trust him now.
The Lord of all calls you,
Won't you bow?
Two more poems about knowing God
See what comes next
Another month ends, another begins
A month of poems is enough for one lens. Look out for A poem for every day in May, which will be up and running from 1.05.10. I have thoroughly enjoyed the discipline of writing a poem every day. I find it interesting that I have resorted to rhyme much more as the days went by. I suppose a frame work is always helpful. I hope you will continue to enjoy this lens and the ones that follow. I look forward to seeing your comments in the Guestbook.
The journey contines
Poems in June
Poetry in July
Do you think this is a good idea? Encourage me
submit
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kiwinana71
Dec 31, 2011 @ 4:11 pm | delete
- Great collection of poems. I loved them, will be back to read more of your poems. Thanks for sharing.
Happy New Year and may your poems flow on through 2012
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mbgphoto
Apr 1, 2011 @ 3:57 pm | delete
- stopped by again to give you a blessing and a big well done for your year of poems!!
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Jewelsofawe
Mar 8, 2011 @ 5:38 pm | delete
- Wow! Alot to take on! Blessing this lens and putting it on my poetry review angel lens!
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dedgarlamp
Jun 19, 2010 @ 12:25 am | delete
- Hi Liz...I think it's a great idea. I'm doing it too. I started February 24, 2010. Nice to find another "Daily Poet" out there. I will follow your site with interest. In fact, I will add a link to your site from mine. My is called The Daily Poem. Best of luck to you. Keep at it. Looks like you're a Christian. I am too.
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Photahsiamirabel
Jun 4, 2010 @ 5:50 am | delete
- I am going to link this to my poetry website on the Elizabeth and other friends page. :) It is a great idea!
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mbgphoto
May 26, 2010 @ 2:23 pm | delete
- Very cool idea! I just found this lens and really enjoy your poetry. Now I'm off to see May!
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BigGirlBlue
May 22, 2010 @ 4:12 pm | delete
- Awesome idea! I'm lensrolling to my writing lens. I've always wanted to do a challenge like this. You've inspired me. :)
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Evelyn_Saenz
Apr 27, 2010 @ 7:15 am | delete
- What beautiful poetry! Thank you so much for featuring my page about recess. Your poetry is truly inspiring.
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LizMac60 Apr 26, 2010 @ 3:48 pm | delete
- I've thought about using the pages module, but I think what I will do is make a separate lens for each month. So come Saturday I shall be into another lens, but will of course put a large notice at the bottom of this one with a featured lens so no one gets lost or thinks I've given up!!
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vallain
Apr 26, 2010 @ 3:37 pm | delete
- Good for you! Getting this many poems written.
Thank goodness they added the pages feature so it won't get too long.
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by LizMac60
LizMac60
Hi! I'm Liz and I am the squid angel.I am a retired violin/piano teacher.I'm a keen short mat bowler. I am a local preacher with the Methodist Church in... more »
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