What is he doing but fulfilling his duty As he continuously challenges himself Today under the heat of autumnal sunshine He writes poetic thoughts The squares of his mind overflowing Today he would speak in the language of Haiku Brevity encourages drama Now the rain has stopped Sky a clearer shade of grey Soaked parking […]
Tag: #amwriting
Setting aside thoughts
In the poem, the poet is never the point He is at best the tour guide The first thing the reader should see Is a picture of what is about to unfold Bright colours, cheerfulness, all manner of things Not everyone will form the same picture in the mind And so it should be, the […]
Fly
It landed on a blank white page Just as with pen he was about to engage Watched it as it climbed the grey ladder From bottom to top Stopping briefly on its journey to – Did it know where? As it edged ever closer to the top rung He pondered on its fate once it […]
“Heroes”
We all have them in some shape or form Today on the anniversary of his death Remembering “Johnny Cash” Along with “Waylon Jennings” They recorded an album titled “Heroes” On the front cover, both men dressed in western attire The back cover sees both men joined by none other than “Lash La Rue” The album […]
Yesterday I went on a bender
It started with some wine gums Followed by rum and butter cake Washed down by apple cider They told me the hair of a dog Is the proper cure for a hangover So off I went and purchased a St. Bernard. (c)Poetry from The ManShed 11/09/19
Experiencing nature
Sitting in our car in a near vacant car park Waiting to set off on our forest preamble Rain whispering endlessly among the trees The eerie rustling not at all frightening All food for the heart of the poet Absence of sunlight secondary “The squat pen rests on the open book” (Seamus Heaney – Digging) […]
There were no mobile phones in those days.
Before we’d climb the gate into the field Granddad would warn us – THE BULL Stand your ground, stare him down but do not stir The bull would turn, move slowly away The collie knew her place She would follow about ten paces behind The bull would be left alone in his meadow Which we […]
Destination “Boot Hill”
“This poem’s speaker removed from what he describes his feelings unattached” He stood leaning against the saloon door Black Stetson tilted to one side A wicked side glance stare Thumb of right hand firmly placed In a well supported brown leather holster His frame skeletal A rough grey/black beard not quite hiding a deep scar […]
Turning his eyes to the highest heavens
Communing with nature Its beauty, as he grows into old age Leaves but vague memories Resting on a stile, standing in a country lane Listening to silence Walking through meadows, dog at heel His youthful eyes now tired He lives on vague memories. Youth of today rush, rush, rush Suddenly they can no longer catch […]
There is grey in his hair
Sunrays breaking through feather light cloud Bouncing mirror like on the calm lake waters He lay chin in hand on a bed of rock admiring the view Purple heather, yellow gorse, multi colourd wild flower Peeping through green and sun bronzed wild grasses Soul electrified he celebrates the spirit of the countryside Away in the […]
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