Monday, 30 December 2013

Berlin, November 1989





A cold night
For a tired London girl
To be walking the streets of Berlin.
The polar streets of Berlin.
Each seemingly a wind tunnel,
Blowing iciness into her inner core.
So she walked,
Head down
Hands in pockets
Intent on her hotel room
And a hot bath
To bleed blessed heat
Into her frozen bones.

Lifting her head
At the Kurf├╝rstendamm
The better to cross the road
Tired London girl's eyes
Widened
To take in
The glorious sight.
A road filled with serpents.
Rail tails one way,
White eyes the other.
Teeny tiny Trabants
Devoid of colour in the glare
Of sparkling Christmas lights.
Each tin can crammed
With incredulous humans
Soaking up the brightness,
Breathing in the glitz
Unavailable for years

Tears in the eyes
Of tired London girl.
Cynicism washed away
At the sight of
Grey garment clad masses,
Their faces pressed against the glasses
Of the effervescent shop windows
Ironically, describing the brothers Grimm,
But none so grim and colourless
Than the lives they led.

Tired London girl's fingers
Explored her pockets
Feeling the gritty nugget
She'd struck from the Wall
Herself,
The night before.
How lucky she felt.
To be here,
At this time.
Nights like these,
Times like these,
Are magical.

Joining with "Imaginary gardens with real toads" open link Monday, actually inspired by their last prompt.http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca

Sunday, 29 December 2013

Spirits



Disappointed with myself
I feel nothing
Shuffling with your silent spirits,
Circling around the cold, callous, concrete coffins.
I feel nothing.
Am I just a hollow husk of humanity?

Breaking into my reverie,
A ray of rare winter sunlight
Penetrates the impenetrable.
Terrifying teenage laughter follows. 
A glimpse of you
Glances the desolation of my soul.
I understand, do I?
Happiness happened in horror,
Hope harboured in hopelessness.
Thank you kind spirits.



A response to a visit to the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin.
Stay with me, I hope to be more cheerful soon.
Sharing in the Poetry Pantry at Poets United
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk

Thursday, 26 December 2013

Cliff dwellers



My line has ventured
From Moher through flat lands, here.
Cliff dwellers are we.


***************

Granite holds secrets
Buried prisoners in rock. 
Gifts of our ancients

***************
Ancient gifts entombed
Frozen messages in snow. 
Words, music, rhythm. 

Started for a prompt at Carpe diem http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ch/2013/12/carpe-diem-358-cliffs-of-moher.html
And as it grew it morphed into the prompt Gift at Haiku Heights. 
http://haiku-heights.blogspot.co.uk

Monday, 23 December 2013

Interpretations, part 1

Inspired by a visit to the Holocaust Memorial, Berlin, Germany

I don't understand.
It's a good thing, I think.
I stand amidst these concrete sarcophagi
I don't understand.

I don't understand.
What was the artist thinking
When he envisaged this?
I don't understand.

I don't understand.
How did this  intolerable termination happen?
How could humanity countenance this?
I don't understand.

I don't understand.
Then I think of Sudan,
Then Syria, Afghanistan.
I still don't understand.

I still don't understand.
What is happening now,
Here in my world.
Though, what have I done?
Impotence, can one person make the difference?
I understand now.

Sharing with Poetry Pantry on Poets Unitedhttp://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk/2013/12/poetry-pantry-181.html#comment-form

And 

Open link Monday in the Imaginary garden with real toads http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

2013



I was lighting the candle 
On the wreath today,
The one you assembled
Erst you went away.

It got me to thinking
What a year I have had.
It's not been the greatest.
I came over all sad.

I shed a few tears,
Well, a small inland lake.
Then patted them dry 
Did a quick double take.

I gave to myself
A stern talking to. 
And made a few promises
Took a new point of view

I'll think only of joyous things
The gifts in my life,
Lest I go at my wrists
With a blunt, rusty knife. 

Whoops, a bit of a backslide
Now forward I go
With a brilliant new list
Things that make my heart glow.

A long happy marriage
To one that I love.
Three healthy children
Sent from above.

A huge happy family
To whom I have turned 
On the many occasions
That I've crashed and burned.

The honour to live
In a beautiful land.
Last, a wonderful life
Which was mostly unplanned. 

Ah, the end of my list
At last we are here
With a heart that is happy
And full of good cheer.

Joining in with Verse first, at Poets United
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk

Tuesday, 17 December 2013

Dew



The frost god exhaled
His hoary breath coated leaves
Dew froze instantly

For the prompt "dew" at Haiku Heights
http://haiku-heights.blogspot.ch

Monday, 16 December 2013

The Guardian



Oh tiny angel 
With your radiant light,
Shepherd my flock
To their homes tonight.
Follow them, love them,
Keep them in care
As they wander the world
And I can't be there.
Protect them, guide them,
All safe and sound
As they follow their paths
And come, homeward bound.


Joining with Poets United Poetry Pantry http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.co.uk

Sharing also with the Imaginary Toads
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca

Thursday, 12 December 2013

Lost and found



In the cynosure of the sea
One foot in the present, one in the past,
The great divide, dividing me.

Looking behind me, what do I see?
White cliffs of Dover receding fast
Into a misty miasma in my lee.

How can it be
This Elysium, this Eden, my home once classed
Elicits an excitement now to flee?

Facing forward, what do I see
Emerging through silent sunbeams? Fringed, grassed
Pastures, stretching to eternity.

How can it be
That this multi culti land, so vast,
Calms my heart, is my serenity?

In the cynosure of the sea
One foot in the present, one in the past
Coalescent waves, unify me.

Sharing with Poets United for the prompt lost art a six stanza poem with two rhyming patterns. http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.ch/


Tuesday, 10 December 2013

The Irish Diaspora


Part one

Mystical migrants
Cultural celtish  cohorts
Time honoured travellers


**********
Never more snakes here
Good St. Patrick prophesied
Christianity


For the Carpe diem prompt prophecy 
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ch

Photo by @lightlane on Instagram

Part two

Travellers return home
Colluding celtish brothers
Swearing to be free


***********
No slithering snakes
Christianity supreme
Are we really free?

For the carpe diem prompt, land of the free
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ch/2013/12/carpe-diem-346-land-of-free.html

Part three
Fondness for freedom
Celtish tigers rule things here
Bad news for the king


************
Shrugging off snake skins
So too christianity
But Christmas is king

For the carpe diemprompt, for the king.
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ch/2013/12/carpe-diem-347-for-king.html

Part Four
You celtish tigers
Crouched, sprang, attacked, shot, bled, died.
Should we hail a King?

*************

Snake skin shoes and bags
Consumerism rampant
Hail the Christmas king

For the carpe diem prompt,  hail the king
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.ch/2013/12/carpe-diem-348-hail-to-king.html

Monday, 9 December 2013

Ice




Lace lined loveliness
Rimy raging rivulets
Polarised prison


For the Haiku Heights promt, "Rivulets".
http://haiku-heights.blogspot.ch

Today I am also in the "Imaginary garden with real toads"
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.ca/p/weekly-posts.html

Saturday, 7 December 2013

Trying something new



Really I'm not a girly girl,
My hair is short, devoid of curl,
My nails, oh goodness what a mess.
I don't do much for them, I confess. 
So today, thoroughly admonished
I indulged myself with a nice French polish.
There I was with lovely white tips,
But 
Five minutes later, two whacking great chips.


Linking with poets united http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.ch uk

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

High as a Kite




I climbed
Through the wide mountain meadows
Running fingers through
Thigh high grass, laced with blood red poppies.
Smelt the pureness of the air
And felt its fleeting frost kiss on my cheek.
I lay
Down beside the turquoise mountain lake,
Waves rippling gently in the breeze,
Put my hands beneath my head and
Shut my eyes, allowed myself to doze
To the lullaby of lightly lapping water.
I opened
My eyes and squinted into a blooming sun,
Its petals reaching out to touch
The misty trails of whiteness webbing the sky.
And saw it, sensuously sweeping, whispering to me.
A winged vision, magnificent, majestic, high as a kite.

Prompted by "verse first" at 
And http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.ch
And open link at dverse http://dversepoets.com