Ramble Through a Birch Forest
the path is straight and narrow
not a rock in the way
birches as far as the eye can see
their trunks, like tall slender
asparagus stalks, reach skyward
their caps, leaves bunched
at the top like celery
I look at their white bark
imagining sweet birch beer
distilled or the sturdy canoes
dug out of tough trunks
I would like to stop
and ponder these things
but I must keep my date
with you
Not your ordinary, average date,
a country ramble,
a stile a gate,
and here's the pitch,
“We won't go far, or stay up late.”
Now he and she sitting silently,
beside the flickering fire,
innocently she believes, camping separately
within tent, is where they will retire.
But his fuse was lit
when first they met,
longingly he knows and yet,
that's not what's on his mind,
nor what he really meant,
hoping she'll yield in the field,
he's bent on camping with intent.
Before we play, let's preamble with the entree,
Enjoy the soft shoe shuffle, before the souffle.
Dancing tipsy, on tippy-toes, to belay and delay the mainstay.
It's a wily whisper of words, a teaser to savor in foreplay.
To amble and gamble, to begin with the starters on show,
Unscrambles the egg, but won’t scramble the glow.
For it's only a tongue-tip foretaste, a wink to what's next.
A fling ding unfettered, a sinew stretch, before things get complex.
It's like players who tune their strings, before starting to play.
It's like scene-setters setting the stage for ballet.
It's a warm-up, a rehearsal, a try-out, to get things right.
Before the curtains call up, ready to go on opening night.
When time echoes the promise of a rambling soul, one who knows that the past never can be left, because it is there that solace leaves its caress, its breath ever rising in the presence of sorrow’s tangled web ~ quote by poet
She waits in silence, for the gentle winds,
Soft revelations of what might have been,
She remembers with feelings she rescinds.
She reflects on lost nights that did begin,
Soundless and still, like the sea of belief,
Soft revelations of what might have been,
Sometimes it feels she’s been left in her grief,
Sure to learn of what comes from night’s lonely,
Soundless and still, like the sea of belief,
Should she call friends or her one and only?
Soon, she recalls her beloved has passed,
Sure to learn of what comes from night’s lonely.
Swiftly, time reveals rambling that will last,
Sharing memoirs, she drifts from room to room,
Soon, she recalls her beloved has passed,
Sensitive, like dreams, her heart is all gloom,
She waits in silence, for the gentle winds,
Sharing memoirs, she drifts from room to room,
She remembers with feelings she rescinds.
“Father Sun is continually rambling and by doing so defines the night.” ~ by poet
Rambling
cosmic thoughts of
Mother Moon, Father Sun,
many of which I pen to page
in recounting their passionate story.
Demonstrating his devotion,
Sun dies so Moon may rise.
He spends his nights
rambling.
Dog Roses ramble in high summertime
Their favourite place along green hedgerow
August has arrived they are in their prime
Perfect pink beauty with marvellous glow.
Along motorway Dog Roses amble
Covered in dust at the side of the road
miserable looking in fine tangle
Unfortunate place for floral abode.
Around cottage door pink roses blossom
Growing and flowering so unconfined
idyllic vision entirely awesome
Wondering who lives there? wish it was mine.
Symbolic of love is this humble bloom
Avoid sharp thorns when breathing in perfume.
If only we could see the world thru someone else's lies. Or spend fond moments in the pain that's well disguised. You understood that clearly, you didn't miss a beat, all my thoughts are jumbled round and incomplete. Can you hear what I see are you seeing anything I hear?? I know you caught a quick glimpse, I could faintly smell the fear. Everything irrelevant is amplified thru need. All of your insanity is the waste produced by greed.
what to write, what to write
i get so excited,
have so much to say,
in so many ways
like i’m going to burst
if i can’t get out a verse
or maybe a rhyme
or some lyrics in 4/4 time
but the words in my head
keep circling instead
can’t find their way out
frustrated, i want to shout
“why won’t you,
why can’t you,
get off the fence
and make some sense?”
but i get to this point
where all my thoughts disjoint
and what i have written
will probably stay in hidden
on some paper or a file
that maybe i’ll get back to in a while
THE ONE WHO TAUGHT US TO PROLIFERATE,
THE ONE WHO TAUGHT US TO RAMBLE,
THE ONE WHO SACRIFISED HER LIFE,
THE ONE WHO DIDN'T EAT ANYTHING WITHOUT ME,
IS NOW ALL ALONE..
Why? Why is she alone?
Why is she on her own?
CAN YOU TELL ME WHY YOU LEFT HER ALONE.
watching the tail lights fading
i stood there and wondered
did you ever consider staying
or was it my latest blunder
or were you
just driving to
clear your head
or was this a convenient time
to make your escape
from all of the confusion, chaos
or was there someone else
at the other end
that captured your heart
or did the fear
of growing old
ignite a late, mid-life crisis
or maybe you
had forgotten something
at the grocery
or was i so consumed with
‘what if’ scenarios
that i drove you away
when you walked up and stood next to me
watching the tail lights disappear and asked what was i doing,
i realized then, that someone had stolen my car
or maybe Luke
had just
borrowed it
or maybe……
Pennine Ramble
by Bob Moore © 2019
I have rambled through the Pennines, on a lovely summer’s day
to Kinder Scout and Bleaklow , and Scafell not far away
We’d start our hike at Hayfied and head for the Kinder Road
past the Kinder Reservoir, into the Pennine Hills we strode
With Jacobs Ladder and the downfall, and other sights between
with views into the distance, where Manchester could be seen
At the Snake Inn we would stop for lunch, a glass or two felt right
then back out on the Snake Pass Road to find a field to camp the night
We’d ask the farmer was it OK, to stay in the field out there
he said “it’s alright wit’ me,, if the cows don’t care”
A few more hills to climb next day, then time to head for home
down in to Glossop, and catch a train, until next time we roam
i took my usual morning walk today.
i live in a community where
most of us are retired or of retirement age.
that translates into seniors, always at risk
for something, this time around, covid.
there were a lot of folks out walking,
walking with friends, spouses, walking their dogs.
stopping and chatting along the way
it’s like we are all coming out of hibernation or
sticking our heads out like a ground hog
or after a tornado or bomb blast.
we all have “cabin fever”, can’t wait to not wear a mask,
shake hands and dare i suggest…… hug.
everyone seem to have a bounce in their step,
twinkle in their eye, and an enthusiastic greeting or wave.
the sun felt good on my skin. the air smelled fresher
the cool breeze, breezier.
the birds seemed louder as if saying “welcome back”
i, like a lot of folks, took these things for granted.
it was good to miss them for a while.
i appreciate them even more now and doubt i’ll take them
for granted again.
i started tracking my weight, exercise, what i eat
every morning i do this little dance
with the bathroom scale
i get up, dress in the same thing,
weigh myself and subtract 4 pounds
some mornings if i don’t like the results
i will subtract another pound for the
cup of coffee i drank
doesn’t matter how big the cup was
if the results are still not favorable,
i will do my exercises, my walk,
then weigh myself
when the dance is over, i’ll log my weight
and threaten to buy a new scale
then i eat
On a quaint country lane, my ”Downward Plod” poem whistled eerily.
Date : Fourth October 2020
Contest : How My First Poem Was Born
Sponsor : JCB BURL
I
What weather will welcome roaming?
Any, if it's sunny, she says
Off they go, Thomas Hardy tales recalling ...
Roaming the veld, let me count the ways -
II
If we were cattle, we would range
If we were bandits we would rove -
No roots in "Rome," that's strange?
R O A M, it's a word for today, by Jove!
III
Students would read the root word is "roven"
Way back from 1300, Middle English, I'd say
A word, if attended, becomes like one chosen
Revealing history while "rambling" today
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