I love that added tenderness in my body each month;
it's like I incarnate the spring myself:
delicate bloosoms, that juiciness,
ready to bear and bring a new life on the Earth.
But the pollination never happen,
because my husband died four years ago.
Thus, instead of adoring the fetus in my womb,
I'm adoring my poetry on my notepad:
from my pregnant mind they comes out to fill my life
and reduce the emptiness of not being a mother of a human offspring.
Money is the source of all greed
Something we all cherish and need
Everything we own
Most of us suffer and groan
Money is the source of anxiety
Something that divides every society
From the rich to the poor
Have the basic or grandeur
Money is the source of most stress
Something each month that causes distress
From the poor to the working class
Scrape by or in debt perhaps
Money is the source of moderate happiness
Something that can also cause nastiness
Can make you believe you are better
Reality is your lonely and wetter
Money is the source of all evil
Something the church says to stop you meeting the devil
But they ask for it from you
Drain yourself without question or review
Money is the source of madness
Something that causes arguments and rashness
It causes unrest between two
And can undo the glue between you
Once each month, he stands in the light—
The silver cast of the full moon.
He lifts his gaze to its eyes,
And prays, and weeps, yet does not move
From that sacred place, he knows.
He remembers only one truth:
On a night just like tonight,
He kissed the first love of his life,
Promising forever.
But that was the night she left him,
Her last breath dissolves into light.
Now he prays to join her there,
In the moon’s eternal glow.
And every night he pleads,
But the moon only lets him wait—
As he has waited,
For fifty long years
© Poem – XIII/XII/MMXXV
LRET
There’s a Turkish saying —
“If you truly love someone, you love them twice.”
I want you to love me for the first time—
to feel that fearless rush
when our eyes first lock.
I want the scent of my perfume
to linger deep within your soul,
and my eyes to pierce your heart
as you glance at lips
still stained with shades of dusk.
And then,
I want to be loved again.
Love me when the waves kiss the sand.
Love me when each month, for days, I lose my spark.
Love me when the day kisses the moon at night.
Love me, so much that when it gets dark
you can guide me back to the light.
Love me once,
and then another time.
Love me still.
Love me steady.
Love me at will.
Love me always—
in peace,
in quiet.
Love me twice.
My word: loyal
It's him again,
he can be such a pain:
he's always asking for my aid
to undo all mistakes he's made
(with all the voices that I hear,
each day, each month, each year!)
Although he's meaning well
and yes, with lots to tell,
he can be such a pain.
It's him again...
for Sara's contest
Each month a craft fair,
is held at Pyree Fields in the open air.
All the local crafters are there,
proudly showing off their homemade fare.
Behind each stall, a pair of eyes stares,
hoping you will buy some of their wares,
or better still, admire their works and cares,
in making things, every devoted crafter shares.
Step right up to the craft fair.
Baskets, blankets, knitted ware.
Soaps that smell like orchard rains.
Scarves crocheted from woolen skeins.
Leather belts, and rings of brass.
Goblets and bowls of colored glass.
Jams from berries, wild and tart.
Paintings brushed with love of heart.
Patchwork quilts and scarves of dreams.
Homemade fudge, sweets and ice-creams.
Pottery crockery with glazes that swirl.
Wind-chimes and vanes, ribbons that twirl.
Wooden goblets and bowls, timber-scented schmooze.
Wax candles set, in solemn rows, pining like pews.
All around, the crowds have streamed,
past stalls half-baked and well esteemed.
With every artist standing up so tall,
So sure their work outshines them all.
So let's not disappoint them!
Join in Folks! Cheers!
"Nothing changes but the date on the calendar." By Poet
We love our pretty calendars holding our favorite pictures.
Many pictures of cute animals,
some of majestic land or sea views.
Each month changes with new pictures to enjoy.
We circle the dates we need to remember,
never wanting to forget our appointments or events.
I like to write in the date box a couple of words,
these words helps me to remember why I circled the date.
When December shows up,
our calendar must be put to rest.
The many dates on the twelve months have served us well.
Now off to shop for a new calendar,
one holding new dates and wonderful pictures.
people never change
history has all the proof
dates always changing
It’s time to remember,
When we hit December,
How quickly the time seems to fly.
We drift through life’s stages
As calendar pages
Proclaim that the year’s slipping by.
We mark off the seasons
For no other reasons
Than habit and need to keep track,
Yet the forward momentum
Makes days – how we spent ‘em –
Worth little, for we can’t go back.
So each month we’re still living,
There’s time for forgiving
And blocking out things that annoy.
Every day of the week
We should wake up and seek
Something out there to bring us some joy.
Glenn Hughes has been performing
For over 50 years
He is the Voice of Rock
Glenn has been in many bands
Finders Keepers, phenomena, Deep Purple
California Breed, Voodoo Hill, the Dead Daisies
Black Country Communion, Trapeze,
Black Sabbath and more
He has many studio albums
And has also been in collaborations
With thrall, robin george and joe Lynn Turner
To just name a few
But be sure to check out his two albums with
Tony Iommi
He regularly goes on tour
And is now doing a deep purple tour
Burn, getting tighter, sail away, Stormbringer
Are just some of the songs he’s covering
Glenn loves his fans
And he writes about the human condition
His songs are very powerful
Each month I run a Glenn Hughes inspired
Poetry contest
Can you write something so grand?
At the end of each month
my hormones begin to flare
my body slowly manifesting
into a love child
of the Wolf Man
the cramps I feel
aggravates me each night
to jump from out my bed
and sprint into the streets
to howl at the sight
of the super moon
like a rooster
keeping everyone awake
at the peak of the night!
Meeting the second Thursday each month at The Commemoration Hall
The Huntingdon Poetry Collective an open invite to one and all
When I first attended I had no idea of what to expect
I soon discovered all are treated with kindness and respect
All equally welcomed, regardless of experience, established or new
A place to read or just listen, a non-judgmental place for you to be you
Poetry can be read in silence but as a group it’s about spoken word
Celebrated classics, forgotten gems or self-penned work, all there to be heard
Individual minds that work in their own way
Shaping words that form pictures and music of what they wish to say
As varied as Dali, Lowry and Constable all there to be seen
From Rimsky Korsakov to Punk Rock and all that’s between
Various inspirations provide their start
Producing different styles and forms of art
Unconditional acceptance, an inspiring group to which anyone can belong
Embracing commonality, not differences, a place of no right or wrong
They don’t care,
if your monthly car, mortgage, utility bills,
credit card payments, a loan you’re paying back
your father inlaw has always been on time,
or if.
You didn’t see the no parking or stop sign.
Can’t afford a cap on your cracked front tooth,
so it doesn’t have to be extracted, or that.
You’re sending your child to a private school,
cause of a hearing problem born with.
They don’t care.
You're driving an eighteen-year-old car, or that.
It just about turned over this morning, or the toilet
backed up, you water heater’s has a slow leak, and
is gonna need to be replaced soon, before it bursts
and floods the basement.
They don’t care.
That person riding the same bus as you each morning,
working next to you ten years on the job,
sitting in the dentist’s waiting their turn to be tortured.
The policeman that pulled you over.
The bank that holds your montages.
The utility company that, thanks you each month,
on your bill, for being a prompt paying customer.
The purser at your child’s school.
They don’t care, they just don’t care!
A precious passing moment
Like silver dust or
Shooting stars
Blind us – for an instant
But fade into the dark
Never to be written
Never to be told
Doomed to be forgotten
More precious though than gold
Moments come and go
Moments good and moments sad
Moments lived and past
Yet moments make up hours,
Moments make up days,
Moments make up each month and year,
That make up every lifetime
So how are they forgotten?
Why are they to fade?
And as I pondered this
I happened to look out
I saw a shooting-star appear
Too brilliant with its light
It blinded for an instant
So powerful was its might
But then it disappeared
Fading from my sight
And I'm glad to look out again
Because now I can see
They're never to be written
Never meant to be told
They're not to be hung onto
They were never there for you to hold
Because moments come and go
Moments old and moments told
Moments lived and past
On this journey, unseen,
Nature's cycle, routine,
A dance of life's flow,
Within, you're in the know,
Embrace what's within.
Empowerment's start,
A rhythm from the heart,
A phase of strength's might,
The universe takes flight,
Resilience so keen.
Moon's secret unveiled,
A tale that's often veiled,
Each month a rebirth,
Connection to the earth,
Sacred and serene.
Cradle your dreams so,
In this time, let them grow,
A period to pause,
Life's mystical applause,
A chance to convene.
Embrace the ebb and flow,
As time's river does show,
Unique one, stand tall,
Through every rise and fall,
Unveiling your sheen.
Embracing cycles, you persist,
A testament to life's own twist.
The moonlight entices
By Michelle Morris
15/08/2023
The moonlight entices
The moonlight glows
When she's in darkness
The Moon is in her shadow
She is working with the Sun
They influence each other but never touch
Like lovers who are separated
By the Universe's brushstrokes
You can trust in yourself
You don't have to fight it
The moonlight is inspiring
She'll make you feel excited
Your enlightenment and wisdom
Your charming eccentricities
She reveals them all
Your delightful layers of personality
She reveals herself in time
Leads you to honour yourself each month
Her reminders are there to inspire
A blessing and a guidance
The moonlight entices
The moonlight glows
When she's in fullness
The Moon is in her knowing
She is working with Earth
They influence each other but never touch
Like friends who watch over each other
The Universe flows its truth
You can trust in yourself
Have faith and hope and focus
The moonlight is inspiring
She'll bless you every moment
© Michelle Morris, 2023
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