Waking with a smile, eyes bouncing green, dear husband
makes me hold back my scream, desire to pull over sheets.
Later, I find you sitting like Buddha, gazing at the land,
shifting as each birds lifts and soars and tweet tweets.
I watch you in silence, pick up slippers, my piles of papers
find my own breakfast to leave you undisturbed in dream,
you thank me so many ways, your face relaxed, finger tapers
held on belly, sometimes I wonder if you see past the gleam
Of heavenly contentment, lap of pool, sun blazing warm
the face so bruised by clenched jaw now so smooth
I never dare to battle you, drive you against walls or alarm.
Retirement is a silence of weighty falling before well oiled groove.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014
I do not know?
The Beach of Promises
Fingers entwined, barely touching,
turquoise waters teasing your dancing toes,
strolling along that serene deserted beach,
our promised dreams within aching reach.
Hands clasped, holding on,
sea-breezes tickling the nape of your neck,
walking together, alone, vowing to never breach,
the dreams dreamed on that faraway velvet beach.
Hands in my pockets, alone,
traces of you linger, teasing,
lost in my scribbles, your memory fading out of reach,
my thoughts ablaze, now and then,
catching a whiff of your fragrance,
wafting through alleyways of nostalgia,
your hand in mine on our pristine beach.
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
In getting into a conclusive unit
We may need a saturated balloon
From what we have got is far from accepting
Those who insisted beyond lying pits.
Dear men under siege, from back and forth
who face scratching soil and the scorching sun
Yet have to account for what they have earned.
Who will call who into justice burst forth.
Heaven must have been right reward for them.
But libido instilled in them a love
Of touch, riches, mantle, mansion and fame
Waved their fat claimed hope, achievements... But tough.
No amount of clarion call to guidance
Will stay their world, if they won't be guided.
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2013
My cottage becomes a mystical Universe In retirement beyond the World.
Eminently perched along side the river Towy,
Lie’s my True Idyll.
I survey the ever changing landscape,
from here to where the river reaches
Below, shimmers of waters. That ever flow
and flow without pause.
Only to be broken, by the splashes of the
allusive Brown Trout whilst feasting upon
the hatching of the Elegant May Fly.
In broken channels Salmon lie, in their
quest to swim upstream to spawn
“ as many will die.”
Above us ‘ Day-Blind Stars ‘ awaiting
to take their turn at night.
The warm breath of a Spring breeze,
tickles the fur of the Bumble Bee.
Now! with splendour and vigour,
a profusion of growth with every tree.
In readiness to give birth to ‘buds’, cut
like Beautiful Emeralds.
To sit and listen, whilst each Wild Bird
heartfully sings each song twice.
Behold danger as a Goss Hawk ,
lives here too!!
The adventureous Egeret walks upon air.
Mirrored by still pools, as he stands to stare.
A duck streches her wings to reveal her brood;
A single tear of joy she sheds.
Across the flow, grassing herd of Cows
to lick the morning honey dew.
As the rain drops fall from Swallows wings.
To ‘Kiss a blaze of Meadow Flowers’.
A Dragon fly, pauses to rub a leg over its head.
A Spider plays ‘ hide and seek’ within the hedge,
to the ‘barks’ from the Jack Russell.
I am in Heaven. All that I survey,
“Enriches our Souls “
Copyright © Redkite In-Flight | Year Posted 2015
What Does Maisie Smile About?
(or A Tale of 3 Ladders)
“I wonder what Maisie smiles about,
when she stares out of her window?”asks Jane,
the new carer at St. Mary's, is curious,
about the aged figure watching the rain
Maisie is deep in her thoughts today,
“Maisie, Maisie”, her Grandpa cries,
“these ripe apples won't pick themselves you know!”
and up the long ladder her young legs rise (1st ladder)
Autumn, in the golden orchard of yesteryear,
the warm setting sun, the birds and the bees,
the grown ups, all so merry with chatter,
Maisie and friends, all playing at ease
Such happy days of Autumn sun,
of foraged blackberries and apple cake,
of sweet plum puddings and then,
apple with cheddar in the same bake
The adults, merry now, and all a dance,
the tree house ladder calls the young throng, (2nd ladder)
the boys scatter 'jacks', the girls make 'cat's cradle',
then all descend to skip in time to song
This is what I reminisce about,
and my time is far from past, you see,
I hear them, calling me, up that final ladder,
“Maisie, your young legs will soon be free!”
Not long now, as I grow so very tired,
I will shed my 'costume' of aged joints so sore,
and return again to the young girl that I really am,
and sprint up those ladder rungs once more! (3rd ladder)
Mrs Cheryl Darby 2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015