My friends, it is a dismal thing
At such an hour to pound and ring!
Let others shiver if they must,
I shall not greet a sky of rust!
Let first the air be half so warm
As in this covered nest I form.
And then, perhaps, if need of it,
I’ll lift an eye, and half-way sit.
Suddenly and without warning, she sneezed.
Liquid sped from her nose onto the canvas.
She stood petrified. What had she done?
Spots appeared over a lone oak tree
On the side of a lonely road that led to the mountain.
Despair shook her whole body, and she flopped
Onto a comfy sofa, wishing she were dead.
Then she looked at the painting and wondered
Some spots remained above the tree.
It was as if a flock of birds were flying around.
She sighed. Perhaps all was not lost.
She sneezed again, but now she had a Kleenex.
The sun had risen but could not be seen.
Still daylight was welcome in her studio.
She stood hunched with pain over her easel.
The landscape was not quite what she wanted.
She had decided to portray the joys of nature,
Lovely cerulean firmament with hazy clouds
Hovering in the background just beneath and around
The majestic mountains of her new abode.
Stately trees dotted the countryside and
Intermixed with cosy cabins, smoke curling
Into the sky because it was a cold and humid place.
Even inside her cabin, the air was irritating.
Outside, the continual grey rain would not stop.
She felt cold and coughed a lot, as well as chest congestion.
Darn, raining cats and mice today! She felt confused.
Cats and mice? Or dogs? What did it matter,
Once the foul inclement weather would not change?
to be concluded
Emile’s set a poetry contest
in which the poet omits one vowel
It’s hard to write this exacting form
yet I will not throw in the towel!
So I’m tasked to write a poem
I’ve got myself into the groove
to try and write a brilliant ditty
and hope the sponsor will approve
I started a Shakespearian sonnet
and I grappled with the rhyme
My poem didn’t make any sense
badly penned work is a crime!
I threw away my first attempt
now I’ve grasped my silver pen
determined to enter the contest
alas, I’m devoid of ideas again
If I write of the spring season
and lambs gamboling in the field
With the mother ‘ewe’ watching them
my missing vowel can be revealed!
Hoping the poem can be removed from contest as U is not one of the permitted vowels
06/11/21
Irritable bowel syndrome
When you have it
There is no mistaking it
For anything else.
Irritable bowel syndrome
Makes you realign
Your fantasies dreams and purpose.
Irritable bowel syndrome
Not welcome in the world of work
Or anywhere else
What does one do with an irritable muse?
One that nags throughout the night and day.
Listen to her feelings, accept her abuse?
I follow her blind, I'm led by her sway.
She shows me the light and the subtle hues,
alive with the joy of black, white and gray.
I know; to learn a love is in my fate,
the one I marry will be the one I hate.
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