Author: @purpleandgoldpoetry
Haiku
Rain cascading down Today, no lockdown sunshine Spring has truly sprung Poetry from The Man Shed (c)Chris Black 29th April 2020 ~Poet’s Poet~ #Haiku
Constant in his belief.
Constant in his belief. Withered, all withered Words, infrequent visitors No longer leaving imprints upon a page He sits, suffering The anguish of not writing As he fails, then rises, then fails again Inside his head, he frets On the outside, no one understands. When will his exhaustion be complete? It helps, he tells himself […]
Acrostic Poetry.
Sunday. A caustic Acrostic. Sabbath, on this day you shall rest says the Lord Under no circumstances should you toil Now dear friends, it is a different story Don’t have work to go to, the world is in lockdown About us, death and destruction of life as we know it Yes of course there is […]
Sweet magnolia blossoms.
Leaning across the half door
Dreaming of –
Dreaming of Dreaming of the countryside he longs to see again In all it greenery The country, his home its scenery Walking upstream by a silent river Looking out on rolling hills. Together this combination, the best medicine Setting the scene For peace of mind and clarity of thought Pleasures in life which money cannot […]
Down on the farm.
Down on the farm. On days when the skies were filled with rain Black as ink clouds sat heavily over our little haven Jobs around the farm were curtailed Which gave us children more time inside With granny and granddad. Times like this were like gold dust to us We learned to play card games […]
The meaning of life.
I will in time stand by your encouraging words
For years we gazed into the stars
Originally posted on jpoet7/Joseph Black Photography:
Through a glass partitionI watched your last breath fadeI felt a need to scream aloudIn truth I was afraid. A loss I feel within my heartLove carried deep insideyou wouldn’t like to see me sadSo silent tears I cried. I wanted so to hug youto hold you by…
The beyond will continue to be out there.
The beyond will continue to be out there. In this island of his afternoon He waits in anticipation For the rattle of the trolley The jangle of knife, fork and spoon. His room sparse though it may be Is his home forever and a day Yes he knows day from night. Weeks tumble into months […]
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