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Garden Poems Wanted

purple

 

We would love to see your poetry about gardening

Please send them to: gillianandthomas@yahoo.com

HAVE YOU GOT THE RIGHT TIME?

Tick-tock the wife collects clocks

They cover the walls

There is even one in the hall,

And in the living room

Some are small and some are tall,

She even bought one off an old bloke

Who lives down the road,

But one or two of them are broke

Now she’s bought a Cuckoo clock

But that’s the only one

That does not go tick tock,

Some clocks chime like a little rhyme

But not one will tell me the right time

DID YOU FORGET TO PUT YOUR CLOCK BACK

TODAY?

By

Thomas Sims

The Future Could Be Better

cliff-jump

 

I’ve talked a man from jumping off a bridge

Into the dark waters swirling down below

He told me that he had not got much time to live

And that he thought that it was time for him to go

 

I told him that he should have some consideration

For all those that he would leave behind

I said, “It may provide you with an answer to your problem

But those you leave behind will have agony of mind”.

 

I said,” You may think you have a got problem

And the consequences of that fill your mind with fear

But one thing you should always remember

Is that you have got many friends who hold you dear”,

 

 

“These fiends will try and help you solve your problem

And will stick with you in your hour of need

All it needs is a bit of effort on your part

And together I am sure you will succeed”

 

After a few minutes of earnest conversation

The man looked up and said,”Oh.I see!

Iam rather pleased we had a little chat

Because the man I was speaking to was me

 

I’d managed to convince myself of the folly

Of what jumping from the bridge would do to me

That things might be a lot better in the future

So I thought I’d hang on and wait and see.

Ron Martin

Poems you sent to us about this picture, taken in our garden

DCIM100MEDIA

Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

Copyright image taken by  Poetree Creations

All for Her

“It was all for her” the swallow said
As it swelled its breast with pride
Watching the man with black umbrella
Walk from side to side

“It was all for her” The man softly spoke
As he considered all he had
And kept his feet to shuffle between
The snows pile up ahead.

“It was all for her” The snow declared
As it whittled down its stock
Becoming just another pile
Of water among the rocks
 
“It was all for her” the rocks declared
As they mark the borders by
And so the sun may glisten upon
Their bumped backs, soft and dry

“It was all for me” the sun affirmed
As she raised her gentle head
And watched the people praise her warmth
Wishing for Summers heat  instead.

 

I am Philisapherhttp://lisainger.com/

Here is my submission for the current picture of the Bird and the Snow

robin
…and if this
       little bird
                               could share of what it’s
                                               mind conceives, would I even
                                               understand how simple life
                                                can be …
 
 
thanks for the opportunity.   Lita
 
 
   EstreLita Pondoc
How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours.
~ Wayne Dyer

I’ve composed a poem for your contest with the chickadee in the snow picture.  

And then there was one…And so, here I am, upon the winter of my joie de vivre,
where once were perched two friendly birds; now rests thus only one.
A wooden cage erected hence, that I can never leave,
the snow the only thing that will remember when I’m done.
 
I cannot see the outside world as I once knew I could —
I gaze through disconnected visage, staring at the cold.
The bitter chill assaults me, and I’m left from what is good;
My breath hangs in the air, and with each second, I grow old.
 
The greens are grey around me; all the flowers?  Gone to sleep.
A broken tree breaks through the white of everpresent ice;
all around the wooden husk, the ivy starts to creep
and strangle out its life and each last wisely sage advice.
 
The earth’s adorned in frosted dew just as a christening gown.
There’s empty footprints in the snow aside my freezing feet,
At last I feel the slumber, and I lay my body down,
at the winter of my life, so maybe now, I’ll feel complete.
Brad Bricktower

Winter poem

Look out, Look out, jack Frost is about.

Look out ! Look out !
Jack Frost is about !
He’s after our fingers and toes;
And, all throughout the night,
The gay little sprite
Is working where nobody knows.

He’ll climb each tree,
So nimble is he,
His silvery powder he’ll shake;
To windows he’ll creep,
And while we’re asleep,
Such wonderful pictures he’ll make.

Across the grass
He’ll merrily pass,
And change all its greenness to white;
Then home he will go,
And laugh, “Ho ! ho ! ho !
What fun I have had in the night !”

Cecily E. Pike

JACK FROST

Image result for jack frost CARTOON

The door was shut, as doors should be,
Before you went to bed last night;
Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see,
And left your window silver white.

He must have waited till you slept;
And not a single word he spoke,
But pencilled o’er the panes and crept
Away again before you woke.

And now you cannot see the hills
Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane;
But there are fairer things than these
His fingers traced on every pane.

Rocks and castles towering high;
Hills and dales, and streams and fields;
And knights in armor riding by,
With nodding plumes and shining shields.

And here are little boats, and there
Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;
And yonder, palm trees waving fair
On islands set in silver seas,

And butterflies with gauzy wings;
And herds of cows and flocks of sheep;
And fruit and flowers and all the things
You see when you are sound asleep.

For, creeping softly underneath
The door when all the lights are out,
Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe,
And knows the things you think about.

He paints them on the window-pane
In fairy lines with frozen steam;
And when you wake you see again
The lovely things you saw in your dream.


by Gabriel Setoun

I KNOW

Image result for Silent Voice Eng Sub

I know, I know just what you cannot tell

I know and understand so well

But yet your silent voice is heard

For I know and understand

 

There are words I long to hear

Words I have hoped to hear for many a year

But I know that you feel constrained

And because of this your heart is pained

I know and understand

 

But if you would make my heart rejoice

You have no need to use your voice

For if it’s true what I believe

And if my eyes do not deceive

Simply look into my eyes and hold my hand

And I will know and understand

 

Ron Martin

Reassurance

 

All was very quite as I sat alone

It was if I was surrounded by light

I felt at ease and all was calm 

On a journey I was taken that night 

A gentle voice said do not be afraid

Please take hold of my hand

I want to take you on a journey

To a peaceful and pleasant land 

My companion was a spirit guide

Who explain his world to me?

He was taking me on an adventure

For me alone to see 

He wanted to elevate my fears

That death is not the end

It’s the beginning of a new experience

This message to all I send

First and foremost you all are spirit

For the material is but brief

For as we leave the material world

Our spirit within is released 

You are then reunited with your loved ones

Who have all past before?

You then will be reunited

As you pass through the spiritual door 

Malcolm Bradshaw

 

 

The Butter Factory

butter

 

It was built of things that must not mix:
paint, cream, and water, fire and dusty oil.
You heard the water dreaming in its large
kneed pipes, up from the weir. And the cordwood
our fathers cut for the furnace stood in walls
like the sleeper-stacks of a continental railway.

The cream arrived in lorried tides; its procession
crossed a platform of workers' stagecraft: Come here
Friday-Legs! Or I'll feel your hernia--
Overalled in milk's colour, men moved the heart of milk,
separated into thousands, along a roller track--Trucks?
That one of mine, son, it pulls like a sixteen-year-old--
to the tester who broached the can lids, causing fat tears,
who tasted, dipped and did his thin stoppered chemistry
on our labour, as the empties chattered downstage and fumed.

Under the high roof, black-crusted and stainless steels
were walled apart: black romped with leather belts
but paddlewheels sailed the silvery vats where muscles
of the one deep cream were exercised to a bullion
to be blocked in paper. And between waves of delivery
the men trod on water, hosing the rainbows of a shift.

It was damp April even at Christmas round every
margin of the factory. Also it opened the mouth
to see tackles on glibbed gravel, and the mossed char louvres
of the ice-plant's timber tower streaming with
heavy rain all day, above the droughty paddocks
of the totem cows round whom our lives were dancing.


Written by: Les Murray

the dotted line..

line

words unspoken
feelings hidden away
the breathing.. slow, desperate
a song unsung
music lilting and soft
the embrace…melting, tighttread on the dotted line
live on the edge, dangerously
celebrate the momentbreak all barriers
breathe, smile, sing, dance
let the dots never join….
 
Lakshmi Kaul

Falling

I am lost, I am falling, I am now living in a world with no sleep; The night has become an ocean and I am drowning in the deep

..

The moon has become my sun,  The stars bring light to my sky; Staring at a ceiling unable to sleep, no matter how hard I try

..

I am living in a silent world full of artificial light; Words fall from this pen, as pages are filled with these darks verses that I write

..

My eye lids are feeling heavy now, But are my eyes already closed? Or is this just a longer blink; My mattress is turning into quicksand, As I slowly begin to sink

..

Soft whispers start to tumble and fall down,  I wonder am I asleep or am I still awake; Maybe this is all a daydream, and I am laying here just waiting for yet another dawn to break

..

As I fall deeper I feel my body lifting up high, as soft voices whisper they have heard me calling; But just as the sun begins to rise I wake up screaming as I feel my body falling.

 ..

BARRY MOWLES ©2012

Retirement Rendezvous

old man

Retirement rendezvous
There is a member who is new
Who requires some type of rescue! 
Looking back at life’s preview

He has had his kids
Been wise and stupid
Smoked enough weed
Aging exhibits on both eyelids

Retirement rendezvous
No more young dreams to pursue

A time he was young with hope
Goals matured and developed
But time took away that potential scope

Retirement rendezvous
Old age has at last struck for true

Retirement rendezvous
Today he joins the old pensioners’ crew

Stuck in his fresh basement
He scorns retirement at its commencement 
With continuous utter resentment 
Thinking it is a washed up experiment

Retirement rendezvous
Today, old age seems to be of no value

Retirement rendezvous
A new life and a new official venue

Retirement rendezvous
Some meet at the post office queue
Others meet at the bookies avenue
Leaving only when the night is due

The alarm clock has ceased ringing
The ladies have stopped singing
The bread winner is no longer bringing
To him nothing anymore is inspiring! 

Retirement rendezvous
Why is life such a screw? 

Retirement rendezvous
Is this a new life for true? 

Retirement rendezvous
His thoughts he has to subdue
For him life still continues
Forthwith he looks at life with a new view! 

(2007) 

Sylvia Chidi

Tell Me!

tell me

Why some people do not ponder
Before acting or uttering words of wonder?
Is it out of denseness or narrowness?
Or maybe due to immaturity or impulsiveness?
Or just to vex or show rudeness?
Are they aware of the repercussions
Of their irresponsible actions
and verbal aggression?
Shall we resort to avoidance
Or wear a costume of patience?

© Chaouki Mkaddem

TRIBUTE TO LEONARD COHEN 1934 – 2016

Dinasaur dave

four Limericks by Mark Sherriff – Promote Yourself

LIMERICKS

WORDS

I think I will write up some words,
I’m scared that you’ll find them absurd,
I’ll give it a go,
‘Cause you never know,
Ideas take flight just like birds.

MANNERS

My parents taught me right from wrong,
I’m glad that it did not take long,
If they hadn’t done that,
Then I’d be a spoilt brat,
Though I think I’ve been one all along.

FRIENDS

It’s time for us friends to part ways,
We’ve come to the end of our days,
But let’s not say goodbye,
‘Cause that will make me cry,
We’ll go and leave nothing to say.

START ANEW

Look now into fire’s amber hue,
Let your eyes be stuck as by glue,
Remember the past times,
Absolved now of your crimes,
A man who can now start anew.
Mark Sherriff

My Treasure to You

fathersxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oh!! My child!! I will soon be dead
Leaving you without any crown on the head
Only these few words that you should regard
They are more precious than an emerald
Listen carefully and contemplate every word

You have got a long life ahead
I want you to learn how to have it in hand
It won’t give you what you have pled
Unless you have a good head
And follow what I said

I really want you to understand
Life is not as easy as people pretend
It’s not heaven and neither a feather bed.
Your route is full of prickles that you should forefend
Elbow your way to reach your end

Stroll the ground to earn your bread
Make the acquaintance of all kinds of people even the bad
Be clever and on them never depend
Learn things implicitly without any demand
Take the virtue and leave the fault behind

Neither selfishness nor greed can make you glad
Be to all kinds of human race a friend
Smile at their faces even those who drive you mad
Be in harmony with whatever lives on your land
Always remember that you cannot applaud with one hand

Stand upright and keep your dignity and pride
Be the master of your destiny and never show dependence of any kind
Nothing is more valuable than what you can do for humankind
Persevere to make human life docile and no longer wild
Only your deeds can engrave your name in people’s mind

© Chaouki Mkaddem, 2010

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