I found a blog not long ago that always inspires me to do… something, even if only in a document. This is not a patch on his work but I wrote. Thank you Lance Sheridan. Please visit his amazing writing.
Does winter’s plague
beckon the drowned
who find solace beneath?
Accustomed to the connecting
seasons floating by, they endure
the frowned face stares
tentatively mirroring their own
above taught ice.
Caught in between coldness,
a new age and only a hint
of the smell of warmth
from heads butting on this hard glass
they hurl and shout –
but nothing will reach the surface
till spring time –
a time eagerly awaiting
the scathing torture in their
rambunctious voice –
and not until, after a crack of ice,
thick and headstrong,
all hell is let loose,
if hell, that is, were suddenly,
to become heaven, and spring is reborn.
Stark strangers loiter to scavenge thoughts once hid;
both now bustle briskly under this fair poplar
my muse, she blows keenly to rustle up these tired
parchments – not scratched e’er since autumn
closed its eyes to shades of green. Before I woke
under dreaming spires, I wrote a sonnet for you.
Me thinks to keep it safe in heart, away from her prying eyes
and strangers’ judgement, at least until summer comes.
Summer is hushed now
Autumn’s lowly howl murmurs
Bring on the chatter?
Thank you Robert Greig for some stirring of inspiration. Please check out his blog for fascinating, quirky insights.
Autumn has beckoned us
just as summer shies into those dark corners
hitherto unkempt and upswept
but only until wild winds kiss the days to come;
blustery and full of bronze talk,
they will clear the woebegone but sultry, silvered
spider’s webs still dancing,
and wondrously, in traces of summer’s
dissipating air and vanishing affection –
and taking with her – leaves, light, warmth,
Now the seasons will begin to drape
like three quarter sleeves
of time’s tireless scarecrow,
who smiles when he remembers
the long drawn nights of winter’s
Winds are silent breaths
When autumn’s howling winds rage
Sieved by bare branches
Day 168/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
Pictures from my garden. Pansies and Bellis Daisies (winter flowers).
Crackling crunch of leaves
Memory of gentle breeze
Warm with spring sunshine
Day 164/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
Silent autumn’s hands are winding,
Curling up others in another sleep –
Sweep me a pyre, statuesque.
Winds come and merge from all four corners,
Finally they meet undanced as yet.
Crisped bronzed fires are set ablaze,
Browned slaves are tossed and cast adrift –
Swept but sculpted, arabesque.
All of the fallen, recipient mourners,
Are deftly ushered, to their kismet.
Masses of birds fly
Leafless trees line horizon
Like autumn once more
Day 80/365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog
splendor to leave
the vessel half full
with specks of summer
in their eyes head south
Inspired by a poem: Watching A White Falcon Set Loose by Li Po (Li Bei) on Leonard Durso.
Of all the leaves shed
None is as wise as the last
Day 59 /365 – Morgan’s #DailyHaikuChallenge. Join in and link back to her blog