Dreamscape
Soon the light will be fading
and the crows are circling
like winged messengers,
a cawing cacophony,
harbingers of death
and confusion.
We try to make sense
of our once familiar place
searching in vain for the water
which we know we must find
and cross.
Searching
for something,
anything
to give us a bearing,
to help us find the river
in this dreamscape
of another world.
But perhaps
we have already crossed over.
https://books2read.com/TRQP-DREAM-2
Unzipped
Closed
up tight
focused
seeing straight ahead
into the dark
black.
Closed.
Unzip,
unbutton,
loosen up
see the blue behind.
Unzip
unbutton
loosen up.
You can see it now
if you look.
You can feel
the brightness
that lay hidden.
Unzip
unbutton
expose
reveal all.
You’ll feel better for it.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CCZXJH89?fbclid=IwAR1gWOmIvYCJz8-NbiQMiqxxx0PJxwfqLhC1j_b5Rw16y6kVYnrEP4bpDNQ
Waiting For Rainbows
Hardly a moment ago
the sun was shining
and we were singing
our summertime welcome.
Life was good and getting better.
The future looked bright as the sky.
Now the dark clouds
have appeared
and brought
drizzly rain.
So the music must stop
and we must take shelter
as best we can
to wait for the rainbows.
Wait for the sun
to bring us rainbows.
and hope
that the darkness
will not last
forever.
https://mindfulphoenixreview.weebly.com/volumes.html
Ginger Beer
Back in the day he was famous
for his hash cakes with ginger bread.
Stoned was an overrated condition,
it needed spicing up a bit, he said.
Too many turgid conversations
and drowsy dancing.
Ginger’s the thing, he said.
to liven things up.
Later he got into home brew.
Try some of this, he said
offering a beery mug full.
Well, I thought
I’d be a mug
not to have a go,
no worries,
no stress,
everything natural,
everything herbal
suitable for vegans,
only the best,
best by the mugful,
he said.
Mugwort and ginger,
the best of the best.
https://www.amazon.com/Herbs-Spices-Flavorful-Poetry-Anthology/dp/B0CCCQZC2P/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2K3FB63MTYHUW&keywords=herbs+and+spices+poetry&qid=1690366027&s=books&sprefix=herbs+and+spices+poetry%2Cstripbooks%2C106&sr=1-1
Marguerites
I cut the marguerites from the garden
and placed them in a vase.
They stood there twisting and turning
this way and that.
I placed my glass carefully
well out of range of their gold dust filled heads
I spoke to them sternly,
“don’t you dare drop your pollen in my wine!”
They seemed to hang their heads
in contemplation
except for one.
She turned her dainty daisy head
with great deliberation
and nodded
so that a shower
of bright yellow pollen
floated like sprinkled gold
onto my red wine.
It left a bitter taste.
https://poetrywivenhoe.org/new-poems-now/
Mellow Yellow
I’ve never been mad about saffron,
or turmeric, come to that
and the colour yellow
doesn’t suit me,
makes me look
strangely
washed out,
or so I think.
I like the colour though,
love daffodils
and buttercups,
even dandelions,
so I could celebrate them
by wearing it concealed.
But no one would know if they couldn’t see
so I don’t do that.
Instead it graces my kitchen walls.
There it’s timeless,
part of the kitchen
in every place I’ve lived
from back then to eternity.
https://www.pikerpress.com/article.php?aID=9781
James
It was still his favourite toy,
that robot with the flashing eyes,
a birthday present when he was only five.
He called it James,
he couldn’t say why.
He didn’t know a James
so he was pleased to be original.
There was a lever called a joystick
because it brought him joy
and gave him perfect control.
Back and forth, round in circles,
blinking and winking away.
He called all the shots.
Now he’s grown up,
almost nine
and James is feeling his age
(yes, of course he can feel)
so his movements are slower
and his lights less bright and sparkly.
Age has undermined his splendour,
it happens,
he knew it would.
The joystick is a bit wonky
so control is imperfect
but it doesn’t matter,
the joy is the same.
James is still James
and will be forever.
https://spillwords.com/james/
Playthings
It’s the need to possess
that baffles me,
the need to own
objects
of no decorative
or use value,
objects
destined to become
encumbrances
sooner or later,
passive playthings
out of their time
moved on
into a time
when even the box,
it’s wrapping
and ribbons
fails to excite
creativity.
Playthings
destined to become
encumbrances
sooner or later.
Ever sooner
as time
moves
on.
https://backwardstrajectory.com/2023/07/16/playthings/
Motherly Love
I have spent a lifetime
trying to break away,
trying to break out,
trying to find myself.
Always on the edge,
always on the outside,
not quite a part,
of it, not quite
a beatnik,
or a mod,
hippy, or
punk.
I was early to realise that
what she wanted me to be
was what she had wanted
for herself, about her, not me.
I wanted to escape such love.
I thought I could escape.
I thought I had escaped.
And I did, surely I did
escape
some
of it.
But not all.
Not enough.
So even now I feel tethered.
After all this time of leaving
her behind,
I remain
unsure
of my
own.
https://feversofthemind.com/2023/07/15/now-available-the-poetica-sisterhood-of-sylvia-anne-print-kindle-with-links/?fbclid=IwAR0Fcb8ichDwDKlzLQOmIvHSEqYIi71CunbA0dlO9yDhsSRTigTYR_960gg
