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Category Archives: Poem

You Know It’s…#Poem

You Know It’s …

 

It’s on the tip of my tongue,

yet it’s miles away.

It’s gone in a flash, 

when come time to say.

 

Where does it go to?

Where does it hide?

I know it’s not out there,

it’s somewhere inside.

 

It’s like I am trying,

butterflies to catch.

Have no net to help me,

in vegetable patch.

 

How did I get here?

It’s not where I was.

But when you start chasing,

all focus it has.

 

A change of direction,

for it to be saught.

It’s doing its utmost,

remaining un-caught. 

 

No longer care whether

it was important or not.

Catch it to just prove,

I’ve not lost the plot.

 

The others they don’t care,

it left me, it’s gone.

For subject has now changed,

they dropped it – moved on.

 

But still I keep searching,

my “it” I will find.

I wake in the darkness,

it’s now come to mind.

 

I will say it out loud,

for no-one to hear.

Then turn over grinning,

from ear to ear.

 

20/07/2018

A § M 

    

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Rain…#Poem

Rain

 

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

rain is landing on my hat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat, 

lightning strikes to scare the cat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

in little brook there swims a rat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat, 

through the soft mud, splat, splat, splat.

Pitter Patter, pitter pat,

make a splash in puddle flat.

 

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

from hat falling, plop, plop, plop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

in sheltered doorway, little stop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop, 

floats on past a bottle top.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

soaks the litter by the shop.

Drip by drip and drop by drop,

back to home – with a hoppity hop.

A § M 

28/1/2018

The Shopping Bag …#Poem

The Shopping Bag

 

Shopping bags 

of plastic made.

Use fabric ones, 

till corners fade.

 

Leather ones,

of decades past.

Still stand strong,

‘twere made t’ last.

 

But all will fall,

close or flop.

When time it comes 

t’ pack the shop.

 

Open – they stay,

all down the isle.

Till reach the checkout

with a smile.

 

Down items slide

to the checkout well.

Make bags collapse,

were standing still.

 

Milk is used,

to prop inside.

Turn – it falls,

 takes down the side.

 

I’ve propped it up,

turn – it stands.

I’ve fallen behind,

 so use both hands!

 

Bag it closes,

to block the food.

Now i’m cursing,

change of mood.

 

Cashier firing,

goods down fast.

As though I vexed them,

in the past.

 

No longer bagging,

but trolley fill.

Get to my car,

then bag I will.

 

A § M 

14/04/2018

    

Snowdrop…#poem

Snowdrop

The snow it will part,

when grow you first start,

twas the deal, you made with the snow.

 

When given the task,

of flowers to ask,

compassion, the thing you did show.

 

He found you were fair,

your colour would share,

in exchange, you’re the first one t’ grow.

 

A § M 

31/05/2018

    

Beach Walk…#Prose

Beach Walk

 

Prestatyn – the top beach,

a day at the coast.

Shoes off, socks off,

it’s time for a walk.

 

Along the wood path, 

built in the dunes.

High views of the beach,

the sea and the golf course below.

 

First though, the car parks

hot rough tarmac.

With a minefield of stones,

some rough, some smooth,

which will it be?

 

Sand reached, relax

toes can sink in.

Hot sand, sun warmed

on this bright chilly day.

 

Not so, when sand deep underfoot.

Hot sting to deep chill,

as my footprint sinks down.

Warm planks, offer chilly reprise.

Though spiky dune grass pokes through the gaps in-between.

 

I walk down to the shoreline,

and quickly retreat.

Ice cold the wet sand,

toes in a tingle.

 

I’m barefoot in winter, what else did I expect?

 

A § M 

07/03/2019

    

A Cup…#Poem

A Cup

 

A poem,

about a cup?

Just what can I say?

An item,

for granted,

I take every day.

 

No thought,

for the process,

it took to get here.

 

Or why,

it is this cup,

a breakage I fear.

 

This one,

a tea cup.

This one coffee.

 

One for,

hot chocolate.

name chosen for me.

 

A unit,

of measure.

For baking a cake.

 

It’s size 

became standard

for potters to make.

 

What then,

before that,

a time before scales.

 

Was used 

as a measure,

for cookery tales.

 

But I am,

the black sheep;

one uses a mug.

 

Though often,

referred to,

a plant pot, or jug.

A § M 

15/03/2019

    

Reflections 2019 w09

Not much to report this week regarding the allotment, the only thing done has been a large leaf mold bay. Lots of shopping has however been done for it.

Wilkinsons have 2.4m canes in a pack of 10 for £3, and as all the canes over 1m on the plot  had to go, lets just say two shops have had their stock either depleted or very near to. The 1.8m canes are easier to get a hold of with very little price difference if the parking money is taken into account.

Seeds and plants have been ordered for the march onwards sowing, I had bought the Jan/Feb seeds last month, due in a couple of weeks, that will start with an earnest in the greenhouse. So between now and then one hopes to get the paving area done for the sheds new location. Dependant of course on the winter weather that is supposed to be here next week. One has been able to do quite a bit whilst the weather has been good.

And my body lets me know I have…Often

Other than that…

Two poems have been written, on has taken nearly two months to get right, but it’s hard to write about the darkness when your stumbling around in it, and I refuse to go back onto full time meds if there is no therapy to go with it. The other one was a challenge by a friend in one of my groups who misses the poetry sessions we used to have at another group. That flew out whilst sitting at Sainsbury’s for my Mum and neighbour to finish their shopping. It must have been on the back of my mind for some time, as the time one wrote about is from last February.

And I handed in a concept for a piece of art my art coordinator for a group asked me for. Not anywhere near what she was thinking, I hit that ball that far out of the park it landed in a different county.

We will have to see if that goes any further, as she cannot fathom the mechanics of the painting. Even with my working model.

Thats it for this week, hope you are all well.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019