Words are swirling.
I want to write them down,
but even in my mind, tears blur the ink.
I think you'd understand.
You, the English professor,
the storyteller,
the Southern Gentleman at heart.
You, the naval officer prone to seasickness
who could talk to anyone,
out loud or on paper, without bias or ill-will.
I miss hearing you whistle as you walk
and the smell of your shaving soap.
I miss your infectious knee-slapping laughs
and your unmitigated love for jam.
I miss your stories, all of them,
about growing up in the South,
about your wise, kind-hearted mother,
and your dog, Scrappy.
I miss your rows and rows of books
and their dust and must and might,
and your love for Blake and Keats
and Alice Munro.
I miss knowing you're around, somewhere,
making the world better just by being there.
I miss the purity, the goodness
of your enormous heart.
I don't think I can describe it quite right,
but I'll try.
With your books on my shelf
and your words on my heart,
I'll try to convey
what an honour and blessing it has been
to call you Grandpa.
Artist Alexander Munro
a talented sculptor you might know
Of the PR Bothehood
four suare behind it he stood
The Munro and Corbett mountain peaks contest
Current events dictates social distancing
Squire Cavendish was expecting some protest
Twenty four paired challengers were competing
Marshalls prepared alerting the contestants
(Isolation bubbles strictly adhered to)
Reiterating the rules and enforcements
Alarmingly, a small protest did ensue
Squire’s bombastic tone and presence did inflame
As an incendiary device would exploded
Worldwide interest in the media game
Above newsworthy helicopters hovered
Now eagerly awaiting developments
Protesters in numbers increasingly spread
Mainly due to many safety infringements
Disappointed challengers away were led
9/28/20
Five words Mountain. Squire. Current. Events. Exploded.
S-cribe
T-ruly
U-ses
A-wesome
R-hyme
T-o
M-ake
U-s
N-icely
R-ead
O-ftentimes
Topic: Birthday of poet Stuart Munro (March 09)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
I was a torpedo, skimming the surface
of the green summer sea; I was a mountain,
touching the clouds at the summit, where
Frozen ice-pools lay. I was a crumpet, soaking
the butter of chat and cream tea. I was a musical
note, a skirling pipe, causing a dance in Firelight. I
Was a lover, loving in a plush hotel room, every day.
I was a massage, muscles bending, relaxing, in sweet
scented room. I was a cinema goer; drinking the flicks
With Milan, De Niro and Munro. I was a free man, away
from work, and bosses and targets too. I was a beach,
with white sand and too much drink. And, like the
Torpedo; I was a poem I wrote; which skimmed the
surface and made me feel free.
15/4/2015
Written for the Vacation contest 15/04/2015
By DON MUNRO
Moon River …
you once held my Huckleberry friend,
the two of us ... after the same rainbow’s end
in your timeless rhythm
as I pushed him in his swing,
blue
and
white and
chipped on the edges,
showing rusty metal underneath
because we were so poor.
My heart was filled with joy
even as he cried from the pain of
being in the cold world. So new.
He would come to me and I would sing:
“Wider than a mile … I’m crossing you in style
someday.”
And then when he left, his eyes would search the
blurry, dark images
for me … just me.
A miracle.
Sometimes when he came back, he would be
smiling, blindly searching.
“Two drifters off to see the world…there’s such a
lot of world
to see.”
And when I told him he was my Huckleberry friend
and I looked
into the pool of emptiness ... his brown eyes,
I could swear he knew me, all of me,
right from the very beginning.
This night i have had
This 7th November day
It's one of my best
I have to say
The occasion was
A birthday party
My son's girlfriend
A couple so hearty
Parents of this two
In tribute proud
On a Munro i would stand
And shout it out loud
Ann Marie, Murdo
Nicola and James
Proud parents we are
Of our sweetheart flames
To watch them grow up
Into the people they are
Bright lights in our lives
Our heavenly stars
To Leanne and Andrew
As i look back on this night
This November day
This world has done right
It has brought you together
As it has requested you be
No better couple has stood
In front of me
A few words from a proud parent to the
most wonderful couple, with all my heart
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me-2.php
Silver threads slalom down hillsides,
Haunts of larks and Munro baggers.
Merging into burbling brooks,
They slide as one,frothing
Over smooth rocks where sheep daintily step.
Little bursts of thunder
Signify cataracts ahead,
Boiling white water.
Greedily the broad sweep of the river
Embraces and swallows its feeders.
Now the passage towards the sea begins
Through towns and cities
Where its strong silent flow
Passes barely noticed
Amid the busy human traffic
Drowned in their private griefs,
Unless it bursts its banks
To intrude upon those lives.
At last it washes into the welcoming ocean
With whom it will share its salty tales.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.