light of the moon
moves west, flowers shadows
creeps eastwards
The dragons have gone;
Disappearing into wind
Which bore them eastwards.
Sunset fell into shadow...
And the World became legend.
-------------------------------------
Beneath tired maples
The lone bridge is at leisure;
An old canal dry.
The lone bridge reminiscing:-
Leaves carpeting flat ripple.
-------------------------------------
Autumn in Kyoto
Overwhelms a persons senses;
It beguiles the eye.
Whether river, hill, garden;
All beyond compare.
The rivers reflections are tired
Human kindness is not overflowing
I think its not my day
Overlooking a bonfire
a scarecrow verily applies for attention
A frozen smile keeps away the whiles
Overlooking a belfry
wishes it had tales to tall
as a crow steers eastwards
vistas change, rearrange
as autumnal comes
releasing its requisite quilt
If Senegal were a sailing boat
With masts new and strong
Ready to part the seas of Casamance
Gliding through waves in a trance.
It would set its course eastwards
Through the deep waters of Sandougou
Riding on a history so vibrant
Full of potent dreams and a future so bold.
If Senegal were a sailing boat
With the heart of a brave pirate
It would always sail to the shores of peace
Where hope greets and dreams meet.
cry cry its pretty time
credit card eyelashes
equalize the load
spend the morning unrushed
head full of murmur
down Liechtenstein we go
open the window
face eastwards
to all those strangers
Eastwards Westwards
we know the direction
Playing tricks with the mind
We thought we knew the best
Down Convents Hill
the stone Angels sing
Desertion is not even an option
open the flanks
play your banjo
In evening we have everything to gain
in the holy calm
the marble passages
past our golden days
The silver birch
presides over the scree
A caravan of love
proceeds duly eastwards
I'm staking my faith in you
The wind whistles past
We are on the road again
to magic lands where the gypsy queen shows
the world her love
where you find
butterflies and buttercups
smiling in the rain,
and hope waiting for time
our faith connected to the earth
uncorrupted
I
At about the same space, eastwards
About eight hours after noon
- yes, it was night - miracle for me
I saw a sun rising ... Exactly as at dawn
A peeking, reddening of sky, creeping up
An amazing moonrise. In my 63rd year
(A New Zealand Poem)
In thought as I sit here, 747 flying by, in contrast to the isles of white clouds cruising eastwards across the Manukau sky yet another 747 passes by.
Tourists keep on coming, knowing nothing of the struggle within, local tribe just trying to stop those damned metal tanks from being dug in.
new motorway forms
wiri losing shades of green
falcon stress in flight
L P G plant being created far away (of course) from politician and speculators dreams. To appease the youth ‘Diesel’ are playing, ‘Watts in a tank’ featured, defies the misery, civilization; are like that, the source of the purpose soon forgotten.
yesterday’s showers
glittered like diamond dew drops
beginning to fade
Today they enter the world of different race, one’s sentiment for the environment is taken, deep within the abyss of total despair, darkness descending upon the alleys of a lifetime tradition centuries old, with minds searching vigorously for reasons while veils of happiness entombed within a memory.
land taken forthwith
the world now needs to move on…
brand new limousines
© Harry J Horsman 2023
Diogenes, philosopher in Greece,
was said to be a dawdler. "Devil finds
some seedy work for idle hands, don´t fleece
our youth!" He saw the walls in people´s minds
who all declined his odd and frugal life.
He lived on bread and water, beans and fish,
without belongings, even without wife.
King Alexander promised a free wish:
"Ask anything of me, so make your choice!"
Got speedy answer: "Stand out of my light."
The famous king confessed with lowered voice:
"So eastwards now, the Persians I will fight.
But if I were no king I´d seek your peace,
Diogenes, philosopher in Greece."
May 13, 2022
Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest, sponsored by Emile Pinet
Orphan Sonnet with a rhyme scheme of Abab - cdcd - efef - aA,
10 syllables per line in three quatrains, and a final couplet
with the last line repeating the opening line.
There are thirteen steps
between you and I
each one creeks
in my blood
engraves my mind
you stagger and climb
the small stairway
toward a bed
that grew so cold
sheet swelling in sweat
from wrestles of words
letters drown in river abuse
egos of fatigue old souls
satin blanket of lavish
gave comfort of none
chatters in restless slumber
ticker forcing faint beats
I crawl out of this wretched bed,
thirteen steps between you and I
every step squinting more blood
my limestone plateaux eastwards
........ facing eastwards.
Cool, still, expectant.
The sky, the ground, are one.
Soon a subtle transition.
One-ness becomes polarised.
The monochrome breaks.
Half-light above. Half-night below.
From the greys contrast comes,
pulls shape and form from shadow.
A vague sketch of skyline.
Sky and ground thus defined.
Now, for the solar spectrum.
The horizon, a blaze of red-orange.
Ribbons of cirrus, luminous yellow-white.
Aloft, reflects the blue-violet.
Centre stage, the star turn, amber burn.
A new day now born.
Is part of Halifax
This island is 42 km. long
It is the equlvalent of walking
In sand from downtown Halifax
All the way to Peggy's Cove
Sable Island has 500 wild horses
After surviving centuries of the winter
The exact amount of horses unknown
Some believe they are ancestors of horses
That survived the shipwrecks
While these claims Norsemen John Cabot
Or the Portuguese explores or Acadians
Had left them on the island
The most popular is likely explanations
In the Boston merchant hired to transport
Acadians during the Expulsiion not the horses
The island is gradually moving eastwards
As it slowly washes away in the west
While sand builds in the eastwards
Others believe the island centre suffering
Just that island is shrinking
Then one day eventually disappear
A land unto its own as old as dirt
Condemned by voguish northern state of mind
This realm you'd be hard-pressed to disconcert
Though his'try would prefer it be maligned
The secret twisted oak and winding creek
The tapestries of moss that grace the swamp
They whisper in a language few can speak
Revealing true that fair southern beauchamp
There is no match for tender Georgia peach
To Cajun gumbo nothing can compare
And off the Apalachicolan beach
Fresh oysters make the finest southern fare
Sweet Dixie with your blemishes and charms
No place I'd rather be than in your arms
Jan. 4, 2017
The American Deep South - That magical swath spanning from east Texas eastwards and upwards through to the Carolinas
For the contest by Silent One Re: Sonnet About Where I Live
When a tear falls from my eye,
My heart has spoken.
Misery befalls without seeking permit;
Sadness follows without peeking first,
Fury varies,but shuts out reasining,
And the heart aches like never before,
My heart has spoken.
Why do tides drive trains eastwards today?
Why does the sea roar in approval and not complain?
Because in every pain,
There is a beauty concealed inside.
I'll not wipe the tear,
To remind me of the expected pangs in life,
My heart has spoken.
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