FAQ/Help |
Calendar |
Search |
Today's Posts |
|
Creative Corner For sharing of poetry, artwork, verse and other creative things. |
Reply |
|
Thread Tools | Display Modes |
03-06-2017, 11:41 PM | #21 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
GHOST TRAIN
I find it strange that I notice first the clumps of hardy Grass, random and stark, sprouting from beneath the ballast’s Mass, born from lithic Dark. When away to the distance arc steel Rails once new and bright, now with viral rust, torpid corruption relentless Day and Night their purpose to adjust. Now no Engines claw along it’s length to who knows where, only ghosts of the past, from carriage windows blankly stare, coming home at last. I wonder who they were ? |
||
Reply With Quote |
03-07-2017, 08:48 AM | #22 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
A RIVER TROUT IN WHARFEDALE
I sat upon the bank amid a Splendour so rarely found, though I sensed it not, mind bereft of sight or sound, to feel awe had I forgot. When through golden Orbs, dappled leaf and sunlight, against the sandy bed, form that with the flow did fight saw I a flash of red. Fixed on the slow, hypnotic wave of a gossamer tail there could be no doubt, here in the river graced Dale I’d found a single Trout. Watching it’s sinuous dance made me once more aware, and looking all around, in moments allowed me to share a Splendour rarely found. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (03-09-2017) |
03-25-2017, 05:46 AM | #23 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
Boy in the Cafe
It was packed, that haven from summer storm, on the sea front, a few places left to sit, the flapping cafe door bearing the brunt little room for the waitress to flit. He could just be seen, by the corner window,a mop of blond hair, a sad stare through glass, finger traced drops, looking at the Fair, hoping the rain will quickly pass. A cup of untouched Chocolate, on the table, near his empty seat, too wet the playing field grass, redundant the football at his feet, I say “Boy, the rain will quickly pass”. BITTER SWEET DREAM I SOMETIMES HAVE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF DREAMS A SURPRISING VISUAL TREAT OF SUCH FINE DETAIL MY MIND “IT'S REAL SCREAMS” YET ONE THAT'S BITTER SWEET. FOR IN DEEP SLUMBER I AM A MAN NO LONGER BENT, SHUFFLING ALONG THE GROUND BUT WALKING PROUD AND TALL,WITH BOLD INTENT AS ALONG PAVEMENTS I POUND A REVERIE SO EXQUISITE IS ONE I PRAY WILL REMAIN AND NOT BE A CONJURED TRICK BUT CRUEL TEASE IS FLEETING, AND ON WAKING AGAIN I KNOW I WILL FOREVER BE SICK. BLUE SKY When I take a second and look up, way past the tallest tree, where no birds fly, I’m in awe and humbled by what I see, a beautiful blue Sky. And though smothered by Night, inky dark and creamy Moon, where diamond Stars lie, it’s not long before morning birds croon to the beautiful blue Sky. So when fury and malice come with black clouds the blue to stain, insidious and sly, sunlight will always triumph and above remain a beautiful blue Sky. |
||
Reply With Quote |
03-25-2017, 05:53 AM | #24 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
THE CANDLE
The essence is now no more though I did not see it die, gone it's calming sheen, I feel loss but do not know why, but miss soft vibrate scene . For I could watch forever such a glowing sensuous sway, with it's coloured aura, a red through to blue teasing play, atop waxy leafless flora. A final touch of wispy charcoal smog from blackened wick, brief vapid scent, semi liquid fingers drip down then stick, for now a candle spent. Fields of wheat I am standing in a field of wheat nearly harvest ready, my eyes are tightly shut, arms outstretched to steady as I slowly place my foot. My ungainly faltering gait reminds me I should stop. I am completely blind, motionless amidst the crop when joy untold I find. Other senses are invoked as sight has now been shed, insects hum and sing, a symphony by Grasshopper led, accents by corvid wing. I feel warm solar lips brush tenderly against my hair, and hear the rush, of wheat flock sway by fussing air toying without crush. Spice tinged scent, barely there from a hidden source, pollen and cereal dust, birdsong a melody of Morse, caught on sudden Gust. I relish this sensual treat, that caught me by surprise, the moment I closed my eyes. A falling leaf Through Autumn, long Winter and many a violent Spring storm, always it's leaves it kept, just now I chanced upon a falling form as a single leaf it softly wept. Possessed of delicate poise, a parchment piece of russet trees, floated without any sound, slowly turning, nudged by a breeze down towards the ground. It was the first of it's kind to let slip from high up where it held, a moment of discarded worth, yet one that of the future spelled, a sign of the tree's rebirth. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (03-25-2017) |
03-25-2017, 10:25 AM | #25 | ||
|
|||
Magnate
|
Nigel,
Your poems give the reader a sense of watching, feelings, changes..... sadness to come; but wait;... a leaf falling to the ground; but now comes the reality this is all part of the cycle of hope and rebirth to come. Again Nigel, the visuals are there for one to see and feel..... Thank you; as I begin my day.. Gerry |
||
Reply With Quote |
03-26-2017, 12:39 PM | #26 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
Quote:
Thank you, Nigel |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (03-27-2017) |
03-27-2017, 06:19 PM | #27 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
When love goes one way:
A desolate love Hear me Eros, still my rhythmic heart, for it's beat, on fate's whim did start a lover's refrain. Yet awakened to artful deceit I seek escape from burdened chain. Perhaps by spurious kiss rendered blind, by impish melody I could not hear, that she sang a different song to the one within my mind. When friends fall in love: HEART FELT HEX It's in those quiet moments, when mindful noise is pushed to the rear, when my mind is free, it's sweet thoughts of you that suddenly appear and how you've captured me. Long have we been friends and though from your beauty I never tire, I looked only with an artist's eye,until the day I felt my heart on fire, and was left wondering why. For how can gentle soul, such a passion, for all these years conceal, so hidden deep inside, that only a magic unknown can now reveal to myself I must have lied. I am smitten, by what manner of heart felt Hex I no longer really care, perhaps with lips pursed, sultry gaze or your fingers entwined in hair, for it's with love I'me cursed. Friendship/platonic love: Post Dinner Party Crime Scene An instant flicker-switched brilliance reveals the scene, chairs in casual disarray, prove that guests have been. Merlot stigmata table cloth no longer linen crisp white, matt fingerprint glasses,lipstick sealed, flash with light. Crumb dotted plates rest haphazard on each place mat, a time frozen residue left by those who had there sat. Some sport discarded napkins, the odd knife and fork wielded like a conductor's baton in animated talk. And along the table's centre stand idols of green glass worshipped the evening long in our Dionysian mass, for to serve those you love, laughter, food and wine, is ceremony that binds us tighter than any hemp or twine. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (03-27-2017) |
04-08-2017, 03:56 AM | #28 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
True courage
Dwell not on sharp tongues or gifted feathers white, for to fear is kin to a rational mind. Deny hurt from baneful slight, see contempt dressed glance revealed as mere fatuous face. Know that to feel fear yet still chance is to be possessed of a lion's heart and such a man will always a warrior's table grace Be tethered no more Be tethered to ordinary no more, make curiosity on silvered wings soar and from lofty heights pity the mundane and bear witness to sights unseen. Fear not the folly of youth but dream, dream and pursue, for therein lie previews of tomorrow's truth. Make bold with deed and wear not a cloak of unease but embrace the mantle of a soul so freed. Be tethered no more. If heavens conspire If heavens conspire let not foul intent hold sway, we pawns on chequered board whose skies are grey, seek little save blue above and mercy surely wrought. To sail calm seas is a treasure that we've ever sought, bind fickle fate's malice, hold fast it's vengeful wrath let we simple Souls always walk, a safe lantern lit path. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (04-09-2017) |
05-16-2017, 07:12 PM | #29 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
There’s nothing quite like a talented Storyteller who can turn words into pictures that seize the imagination
The Storyteller Tell me a story of honour and pride, pennant tipped lances, a wild stallion ride. Where fair maidens are taken and with magic bound, about witches, warlocks, villains and knights from tables round. Tell me of lands where giants roam, enchanted forests both dark and cold, the woods, glades and streams that sprites call home. Let me hear you talk about dragon lore, mysterious fires in which kings the future saw. Tell me all with earnest voice, bright darting eyes and compelling edge, just one more ! When I was a boy my father was a Salesman driving all over the country. In those days, the roads were not as good, the emergency services fewer . Winters were often cold and snowy and we, like all kids hoped for blizzards which would close schools and bring sledging, snowballs and snowmen. For me this childhood treat was tempered by the thought of Dad driving around in atrocious and dangerous weather. His frown and his obvious worry were palpebral but no sales, no money. I used to sit on his bedroom window sill for hours until finally his car appeared at the end of the street. Waiting for Dad Small boy,curled in feline form on the narrow window ledge. Ancient glass,constantly by hand cleared of moisture,opaque, cold touch pane teases a cheek. Vague familiar scent of cologne, elusive, a comforting shade of absent love. A red striped tie strewn on the bed. Images of him wearing his favourite blue. A bedside clock ticks, mocking with it’s constant reminding, providing a steady beat, marking a child’s mounting angst. Outside odd cars gingerly inch by, soon covered tracks deny their passing while ice insects swarm in the glow of struggling headlights. Purist white bathed in strange hues by drama enhancing sodium street lamps. Not a soul can be seen. A question fatigued mother with perfected mask of nonchalance, a young imagination running wild, heightened senses, straining, a feeling, a knowing relief at the first glimpse of familiar form, amber light, flashing an ‘all is well’ signal. Excitement flooded voice announces “Mum, he’s back !” The Butterfly and the hand While summer day leaden lids ushered in sleep and into tranquil mind gentle dreams did seep, hands, limp and lifeless facing the balmy sun , as exquisite mind stilled musing had just begun I became at once aware of an imagined touch, for it was almost too slight be known as such. Then without intent, eyes dropped onto my palm. The world was a solemn stillness, all was calm, and there rested a Butterfly, there in my hand. I was awestruck, blessed by a vision so grand. As I watched it’s wings twitch and flap in code, entranced by the vivid flash colour it showed, I wondered what news delicate herald brought, and did it not fear to be by frightful fist caught. I seemed to understand, but what I couldn’t say, then gone that beautiful moment as it flew away On the passing of a Lover I saw you there I saw you there the other day,stood over by the wall, though at me you did not look. Your face was rounder and you did not seem as tall, but still, what I could I took. I saw you there, in the Park, sat alone on our bench. You stared, lost in thought. With a half glance you left, again I felt that wrench as against panic I fought. I saw you there, in the crowd,leaning against the door, yet I heard not your voice. It was only a moment and my very soul I’d sell for more, if only I had the choice. I saw you there the other day, walking along the pier, though deep inside I knew, when you whispered “let me go, shed your final tear” that it never could be you. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (05-18-2017) |
07-02-2017, 12:45 PM | #30 | ||
|
|||
Member
|
A Sonnet in it's English guise is a specific form. At it's most basic it consists of 14 lines rhyming ABAB CDCD EFEF GG, with each line having 10 syllables. The last couplet traditionally is a twist and the first stanza sets the scene. There are other complications.
I hope you enjoy. Sonnet 1 Can love’s quest ever be an unjust cause, to seek fate matched heart with yours to join, is it not our right under nature’s laws, to yearn for more than earthly gold or coin. For blessed are those that such sweetness taste that by fortune or deed their soulmate meet. When our paths are crossed we must make haste, seize chanced gift to make two lives complete. Pity those who to love’s soft touch are blind, and have no desire to fill that cold space. Feel sadness that some, true love never find never once feel a lover’s eyes on their face. To live life in love is to live in light and never to know the dark endless night. Sonnet 2 v2 As the night’s falling drape of velvet dusk forewarns that a drowsy stillness is nigh and the soft butter glow of moonlight brusque lays a gentle comfort along her thigh, steal I a silk whisper kiss on pale skin. And on my lips taste I such honeyed scent I pray these hours to forever begin, for the yearning to touch is never spent. What beating heart could such beauty resist, a love that from a single glance was born, or that will cause adoring sight to mist from knowing heartbreak will arrive at dawn. For to her, of my love I should not say, so must unworthy heart be gone by day. Sonnet 3 With time intent on his forever dance, deftly stole I from him by slightest hand, in a fleeting pause of conceded chance moments of a beauty both rare and grand. I saw a single ray of purest light pierce a crystal glass droplet as it fell, and become a lonely tear lost at night, a vestige of false love’s now broken spell. I watched the sharp life bloom of Springtime and heard I a thousand strange voices sing, many unknown songs with a single rhyme and the rhythmic beat of a Blackbird’s wing. Yet poisoned is the chalice I did steal, for hidden is knowing what is now real. |
||
Reply With Quote |
"Thanks for this!" says: | ger715 (07-07-2017), PamelaJune (07-07-2017) |
Reply |
|
|
Similar Threads | ||||
Thread | Forum | |||
one of my older poems... | Creative Corner | |||
more poems | Bipolar Disorder | |||
Poems | Sanctuary for Spiritual Support | |||
poems i have post elsewhere......... | Creative Corner |