Evergreen hardy vigour
flourishing in youth
feeding on world offerings
almost feels obtuse,
firing out letters
words flowing forth.
Days becoming years
stories stay the same
stagnating in veins
spreading to his pen
grinding to the stop light,
what is missing?
He hangs up hack hat
tossing screwed up
verbs into the trash can
world worn & weary closing eyes,
out of the waste paper a poet is born.
Haggling with Haiku
tangoing with Tanka
Swimming towards Sonnets
the writer is renewed,
following an angel wings
frolicking in wild flowers,
his romping romantic streak
wreaks havoc
swooning swans almost sink.
His story surpassing expectation
reviving fantasies of fiction
releasing ardent inspiration,
he sings in the orchestra of dawn
resting in the grassy knowledge of home.
(For Joe, hope you like it Happy Birthday)
Sunday, 11 September 2011
Thursday, 1 September 2011
The Linnet has flown
Please feel free to follow my poetry further on its journey by reading here:
The Linnet on Wordpress
The Linnet on Wordpress
Monday, 15 August 2011
Dragons Dawn #1
All is quiet yet outside
a rumbling is forming
the city beast awakes yawning
belching burnt fumes into the sky.
He scratches with vibrations
of a thousand engines
his eyes open as the sky lightens,
sluggishly he moves life blood
trapped behind the red light cholesterol.
His glass pane scales shimmer
reflecting pink mackerel sky,
his tail ebbs its watery way north.
He stretches far trailing suburban limbs,
leafy, sleepy to start, yet his claws are
sharp angles of inner urban deprivation.
His bite a frightening realization
combining wealth with pain
he slowly unfurls his living carpet
of wings waiting for flight again.
a rumbling is forming
the city beast awakes yawning
belching burnt fumes into the sky.
He scratches with vibrations
of a thousand engines
his eyes open as the sky lightens,
sluggishly he moves life blood
trapped behind the red light cholesterol.
His glass pane scales shimmer
reflecting pink mackerel sky,
his tail ebbs its watery way north.
He stretches far trailing suburban limbs,
leafy, sleepy to start, yet his claws are
sharp angles of inner urban deprivation.
His bite a frightening realization
combining wealth with pain
he slowly unfurls his living carpet
of wings waiting for flight again.
Saturday, 13 August 2011
Sweet release
Feelings caught in stifled space
held within the muggy monotony
moving in treacle motion
rotation, always forwards.
Gazing heavenwards, scanning
brittle patience snapping
seeking the change
bringing the reprieve.
Sailing in, riding high
suppressed heat rising
meeting sky iced thoughts
bubbling formation begins.
First a subtle stirring breeze
parched yearning increasing
slowly the cool spirals
kiss sun burnt stems.
Heat pulsating from core
each grain, molecule, heartbeat
begging to consume, feel
cool fingers trailing through.
With the first touch it starts
electric sparks as droplets fall
each hit making dust dance
entranced the song is formed.
Lost in abandonment
sweet release calls
washing away tensions
cleansed, almost complete.
Waiting is finally over
tumultuous vibrations tear
at seams striking home
burnish stroke hits stone.
held within the muggy monotony
moving in treacle motion
rotation, always forwards.
Gazing heavenwards, scanning
brittle patience snapping
seeking the change
bringing the reprieve.
Sailing in, riding high
suppressed heat rising
meeting sky iced thoughts
bubbling formation begins.
First a subtle stirring breeze
parched yearning increasing
slowly the cool spirals
kiss sun burnt stems.
Heat pulsating from core
each grain, molecule, heartbeat
begging to consume, feel
cool fingers trailing through.
With the first touch it starts
electric sparks as droplets fall
each hit making dust dance
entranced the song is formed.
Lost in abandonment
sweet release calls
washing away tensions
cleansed, almost complete.
Waiting is finally over
tumultuous vibrations tear
at seams striking home
burnish stroke hits stone.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
An interview with Death (Part 2)
In between the seconds, the spaces,
the void, found within tick to far off tock,
we sat, we talked...
"Why is it that you keep coming back?"
I pause to examine the shuffle of silent thoughts:
"I hoped you could answer that"
Looking away I see the circular table
on it stands the hour glass, suspended grains
held motionless, their timeless fall arrested.
"I am your fear, your fascination, your fate, all
you have to do is wait, is that right?"
The dust motes echoed the yawning gap
as my mind fought to free the words:
"Sometimes the truth can follow the
the wrong path" I breathed,
with that the first tock struck.
the void, found within tick to far off tock,
we sat, we talked...
"Why is it that you keep coming back?"
I pause to examine the shuffle of silent thoughts:
"I hoped you could answer that"
Looking away I see the circular table
on it stands the hour glass, suspended grains
held motionless, their timeless fall arrested.
"I am your fear, your fascination, your fate, all
you have to do is wait, is that right?"
The dust motes echoed the yawning gap
as my mind fought to free the words:
"Sometimes the truth can follow the
the wrong path" I breathed,
with that the first tock struck.
Inspiration
In searching she steps into the stream
chasing dreams as they swim swiftly by
ever hopeful her own will appear in the ripples.
Turning over the pebbles she continues
scanning the bed for that elusive colour
that memory of long lost happiness, hidden.
Silver shards of salvation dart deftly passed
into shady darkness, my net is made for
butterflies not souls she wept silently.
Further in the flow is faster, with
careful steps cautious of falling
she follows the zephyr of fate
"please wait" she cries out.
Wading in the watery depths watching
stars blossoms waft downwards
she is washed into the current
wishing she carried you with her.
At last she is lying on the river bed
she is sleeping now, she is not dead
her net is full of pearls just waiting
to enter her head when she is awakened.
chasing dreams as they swim swiftly by
ever hopeful her own will appear in the ripples.
Turning over the pebbles she continues
scanning the bed for that elusive colour
that memory of long lost happiness, hidden.
Silver shards of salvation dart deftly passed
into shady darkness, my net is made for
butterflies not souls she wept silently.
Further in the flow is faster, with
careful steps cautious of falling
she follows the zephyr of fate
"please wait" she cries out.
Wading in the watery depths watching
stars blossoms waft downwards
she is washed into the current
wishing she carried you with her.
At last she is lying on the river bed
she is sleeping now, she is not dead
her net is full of pearls just waiting
to enter her head when she is awakened.
Friday, 29 July 2011
An Interview with Death (Part 1)
The knock echoed deeply around the cavernous room within.
Waiting with breath held, the answer came "come in"
He was a sight like none I had previously seen
billowing black surrounding a figure of spectral lean.
A glint of silver caught my eye distracting me
but the tap of bone cold finger was
more than enough to divert my mind.
"Please be seated" and so we sat waiting, wondering why.
The clock ticked loudly marking the passing moments.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime had passed,
he spoke: "are you ready to go yet?"
I faltered, looking down... Then said "I don't know,
I think there is a few people I don't want to forget"
Waiting with breath held, the answer came "come in"
He was a sight like none I had previously seen
billowing black surrounding a figure of spectral lean.
A glint of silver caught my eye distracting me
but the tap of bone cold finger was
more than enough to divert my mind.
"Please be seated" and so we sat waiting, wondering why.
The clock ticked loudly marking the passing moments.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime had passed,
he spoke: "are you ready to go yet?"
I faltered, looking down... Then said "I don't know,
I think there is a few people I don't want to forget"
Sunday, 24 July 2011
The one that got away
Time moves slowly as I roll back
sinking gently, silently beneath the surface.
My breathing becomes me it is
my metronome, my calming force.
The cooling touch, the softest tug,
the absolute ambiance of water.
Balancing carefully as I glide deeper
below me the sunlight dances dappled
a myriad of colours show shining brightly.
The shoal tide turns suddenly
glinting like a thousand tiny mirrors
reflecting an almost angelic beauty.
I close my eyes and cast back
to capture your face, a glimpse
but it was your soul I saw.
(prompt: dappled sunlight glinting on shiny objects like a friends soul)
sinking gently, silently beneath the surface.
My breathing becomes me it is
my metronome, my calming force.
The cooling touch, the softest tug,
the absolute ambiance of water.
Balancing carefully as I glide deeper
below me the sunlight dances dappled
a myriad of colours show shining brightly.
The shoal tide turns suddenly
glinting like a thousand tiny mirrors
reflecting an almost angelic beauty.
I close my eyes and cast back
to capture your face, a glimpse
but it was your soul I saw.
(prompt: dappled sunlight glinting on shiny objects like a friends soul)
Saturday, 23 July 2011
Diving in a dream
Hear the groan of the streets
tired and stressed, frantic
with the Friday night traffic.
Engines grumble onwards
fumes gather in smog like form
as we edge slowly closer.
City smells fade away as
our gleaming car glides seawards
on this steaming tarmac highway.
Chasing the sunset down
a stream of shining eyes alight
beams racing forwards.
Passing though worlds apart
the neatly trimmed lawns
of this southern suburbia.
The beach house greets us
it sand blasted sides softened
by twilight's gentle touch.
The veneer of city life is washed off
from wandering on the veranda
listening to cicadas sing.
Tomorrow we will begin
our exploring of this alien world,
silently sinking under the waves.
Tonight walking barefoot
on the cooling sands, drinking in
the breeze, we are holding hands.
Searching for seashells in the surf
we found it, perfectly smooth, rounded,
a polished piece of sea glass.
The years move like tides
not waiting for the past
I remember it all, just from a touch.
tired and stressed, frantic
with the Friday night traffic.
Engines grumble onwards
fumes gather in smog like form
as we edge slowly closer.
City smells fade away as
our gleaming car glides seawards
on this steaming tarmac highway.
Chasing the sunset down
a stream of shining eyes alight
beams racing forwards.
Passing though worlds apart
the neatly trimmed lawns
of this southern suburbia.
The beach house greets us
it sand blasted sides softened
by twilight's gentle touch.
The veneer of city life is washed off
from wandering on the veranda
listening to cicadas sing.
Tomorrow we will begin
our exploring of this alien world,
silently sinking under the waves.
Tonight walking barefoot
on the cooling sands, drinking in
the breeze, we are holding hands.
Searching for seashells in the surf
we found it, perfectly smooth, rounded,
a polished piece of sea glass.
The years move like tides
not waiting for the past
I remember it all, just from a touch.
Demoiselles
As the mist clears from the hidden valley's depths
a picture painted before us in nature's vast palette.
Standing on the silver shore looking inwards
past the hedge of pink hibiscus breaking
the wind's relentless onshore march,
bringing sweet relief for those living within.
Beneath the copious canopy of high rise trees
dancing to the tinkling tune of falling mountain stream
the Demoiselles display a magic all of their own.
* To see a picture of these beautiful type of damselflies see: Demoiselle picture
a picture painted before us in nature's vast palette.
Standing on the silver shore looking inwards
past the hedge of pink hibiscus breaking
the wind's relentless onshore march,
bringing sweet relief for those living within.
Beneath the copious canopy of high rise trees
dancing to the tinkling tune of falling mountain stream
the Demoiselles display a magic all of their own.
* To see a picture of these beautiful type of damselflies see: Demoiselle picture
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
The Mouse
I cannot recall why
it caught my eye,
the small blob of brown
fur on the ground.
I turned to examine
closer what I had found.
The tiny mouse lay still,
his head hidden, killed?
As if stepped on, left to die
by someone walking by.
For a second the urge of old
to nurture took hold of me,
I squashed it with adult logic
picking up dead mice is not hygienic!
But my child like wonder could not fail
as I admired his delicate foot & tail.
A moment of my time spent, I'll now keep
in honouring this fallen son of Reepicheep.
it caught my eye,
the small blob of brown
fur on the ground.
I turned to examine
closer what I had found.
The tiny mouse lay still,
his head hidden, killed?
As if stepped on, left to die
by someone walking by.
For a second the urge of old
to nurture took hold of me,
I squashed it with adult logic
picking up dead mice is not hygienic!
But my child like wonder could not fail
as I admired his delicate foot & tail.
A moment of my time spent, I'll now keep
in honouring this fallen son of Reepicheep.
Saturday, 9 July 2011
Released
Alas the beast still lives,
though free to roam further
it does return, in vengeance
spitting scarlet anger
it has not been tamed.
When provoked he reigns supreme,
oozing adrenaline into my veins
his wrath a fearsome force
searing body and mind, tearing holes
in the fabric of my fable existence.
Corrosion coursing across the
synaptic nerves of my sanity,
the dank blood coloured mist lingers on.
His life spark a unbending need for justice,
for the wrongs to be avenged,
for the truth to rise above
the sea of lies he abhors.
In his crazed myopic mission
he is oblivious to the pain,
he struggles on fighting the waves
that engulf the vessel I have become.
though free to roam further
it does return, in vengeance
spitting scarlet anger
it has not been tamed.
When provoked he reigns supreme,
oozing adrenaline into my veins
his wrath a fearsome force
searing body and mind, tearing holes
in the fabric of my fable existence.
Corrosion coursing across the
synaptic nerves of my sanity,
the dank blood coloured mist lingers on.
His life spark a unbending need for justice,
for the wrongs to be avenged,
for the truth to rise above
the sea of lies he abhors.
In his crazed myopic mission
he is oblivious to the pain,
he struggles on fighting the waves
that engulf the vessel I have become.
Friday, 8 July 2011
Fireflies
Floating quietly amid the dust motes of reality they wait,
forever held in the moment they were formed,
then shattered when we woke.
Walking on clouds; running down corridors;
trying to find that which was lost, a kiss, a touch,
all swimming together now, just waiting for sleep's arrival.
Like fireflies they gather, singing sweet melodies,
yet heard only from within, fragments; slivers;
the shimmering shards of a dream.
forever held in the moment they were formed,
then shattered when we woke.
Walking on clouds; running down corridors;
trying to find that which was lost, a kiss, a touch,
all swimming together now, just waiting for sleep's arrival.
Like fireflies they gather, singing sweet melodies,
yet heard only from within, fragments; slivers;
the shimmering shards of a dream.
Friday, 17 June 2011
My Friend (Poetry) - Revised
It was a fascination, an unexplained obsession
a need that had to be pursued. I know not why
I gave up asking, but know that this happened for a reason.
Was this reason for, or because of you?
Maybe it's my destiny, a need to become more
than I ever hoped for, to feel a personal success.
Yet as the story unfolds I find gems
worth more than bullion gold,
chance encounters with poetic souls.
The gifted ones, who with a stroke of the pen
reduce me to tears, or transport me to another domain
then feed me with food for my heart and mind.
They humble me with a kindness of the soul
strength in the face of adversity
the like of which I have never known,
touched by passion to instill change upon the world.
So I thank you most kindly my friend
for such a perfect introduction
and for the candle flame, lit for me
leading me out of the crowded darkness.
a need that had to be pursued. I know not why
I gave up asking, but know that this happened for a reason.
Was this reason for, or because of you?
Maybe it's my destiny, a need to become more
than I ever hoped for, to feel a personal success.
Yet as the story unfolds I find gems
worth more than bullion gold,
chance encounters with poetic souls.
The gifted ones, who with a stroke of the pen
reduce me to tears, or transport me to another domain
then feed me with food for my heart and mind.
They humble me with a kindness of the soul
strength in the face of adversity
the like of which I have never known,
touched by passion to instill change upon the world.
So I thank you most kindly my friend
for such a perfect introduction
and for the candle flame, lit for me
leading me out of the crowded darkness.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
The Ship
Beneath purple painted clouds
grazing honey back lit sky
a single ship on the horizon
atop gently shifting waters
stained with creeping iridescence,
proud beacon silhouetted in the moment.
Witnessing beauty's golden kiss stolen
from her dying daylight breath.
behind the curtains, twilight
waiting with all smothering embrace
welcoming her dark lover
bejeweled night velvet widow.
grazing honey back lit sky
a single ship on the horizon
atop gently shifting waters
stained with creeping iridescence,
proud beacon silhouetted in the moment.
Witnessing beauty's golden kiss stolen
from her dying daylight breath.
behind the curtains, twilight
waiting with all smothering embrace
welcoming her dark lover
bejeweled night velvet widow.
Saturday, 4 June 2011
Silent Scream
Sirens screeching ever closer
strike a chill into the cool calm night,
shattering peaceful sleeping
as speeding vehicles stream past.
Neighbours glued to television sets
tut impatiently turning volume up
drawing curtains tight as if
to block out the ill of this night.
They are talking but she cannot hear
blood trickles slowly down
a stream of drowned emotions
as they shake their heads.
When they pull the blanket over
few words are said, not a case
of too late more compounded mistake
nobody heard her silent scream.
Finally free from her hollow
shell world the smiling mask
slipped off once more, after
her skull struck the stone floor.
Gently they carry her out
she is not there, she had already
crossed beyond the silver stream
running free as she had always dreamed.
This was not how she had planned
to leave but now in this place
where he could not follow, maybe
it had been her final chance for peace.
strike a chill into the cool calm night,
shattering peaceful sleeping
as speeding vehicles stream past.
Neighbours glued to television sets
tut impatiently turning volume up
drawing curtains tight as if
to block out the ill of this night.
They are talking but she cannot hear
blood trickles slowly down
a stream of drowned emotions
as they shake their heads.
When they pull the blanket over
few words are said, not a case
of too late more compounded mistake
nobody heard her silent scream.
Finally free from her hollow
shell world the smiling mask
slipped off once more, after
her skull struck the stone floor.
Gently they carry her out
she is not there, she had already
crossed beyond the silver stream
running free as she had always dreamed.
This was not how she had planned
to leave but now in this place
where he could not follow, maybe
it had been her final chance for peace.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Alfresco
Under the tangled limbs
pools of light form
falling between fingertips,
liquid gold dripping
onto rustic green skin.
A Mediterranean moment
pause of breath held
before the rustling returns.
Sultry summer sky
waiting, watching flies.
Time idles lazily by.
Inside the cool glass
bubbles rising quickly
tickling lips with sweetened
cider scented kiss.
Alfresco in the garden.
pools of light form
falling between fingertips,
liquid gold dripping
onto rustic green skin.
A Mediterranean moment
pause of breath held
before the rustling returns.
Sultry summer sky
waiting, watching flies.
Time idles lazily by.
Inside the cool glass
bubbles rising quickly
tickling lips with sweetened
cider scented kiss.
Alfresco in the garden.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
Todays inclusions...
'Storm force' got included in The # Poem Daily today.
The # Poem Daily
Also an inclusion of my reading of "Letters Pronouncing Kisses" - a poem written by QuirinaRoode-Gutzmer. I am particularly happy as this is not only a fantastic poem, but also my first recording to make an e-magazine!
The Voices Shared Daily
My reading can be heard on my Tumblr page here: The_Linnet sings
With grateful thanks as always!
The # Poem Daily
Also an inclusion of my reading of "Letters Pronouncing Kisses" - a poem written by QuirinaRoode-Gutzmer. I am particularly happy as this is not only a fantastic poem, but also my first recording to make an e-magazine!
The Voices Shared Daily
My reading can be heard on my Tumblr page here: The_Linnet sings
With grateful thanks as always!
Monday, 23 May 2011
Storm force
Stolen from my dream world
Who is that banging on the door?
I wonder why, my sleep fog clears
Wood knocking on wood, in savage repetition
No visitor would be so rude.
Peeking round the curtain, eyes open wide
Sash window frame being lashed back and forth
more like a piece of paper.
Childlike as a child does I ran for the door
My parents were worried, rightly so it seemed
high winds were not predicted that night.
Settled under kitchen table, no more sleep
Watchful, wakeful as the wind did its worst!
Gable wall joined the dance swinging back and forth
Roof slates raining down
lethal blades cutting deep into the ground.
Angelic force or twist of fate
The morning found us and the wall
standing still, shocked yet unhurt.
As we cautiously ventured out
The world was torn and twisted
Everything was broken, thrown all about.
An alien landscape greeted our eyes
Sunshine lighting our way
as tiny shards of ice rained down.
The storm had passed, but the memory
Burnt forever in my heart.
(Entered for oneshotwednesday on 24/05/11 - Onestoppoetry.com)
Who is that banging on the door?
I wonder why, my sleep fog clears
Wood knocking on wood, in savage repetition
No visitor would be so rude.
Peeking round the curtain, eyes open wide
Sash window frame being lashed back and forth
more like a piece of paper.
Childlike as a child does I ran for the door
My parents were worried, rightly so it seemed
high winds were not predicted that night.
Settled under kitchen table, no more sleep
Watchful, wakeful as the wind did its worst!
Gable wall joined the dance swinging back and forth
Roof slates raining down
lethal blades cutting deep into the ground.
Angelic force or twist of fate
The morning found us and the wall
standing still, shocked yet unhurt.
As we cautiously ventured out
The world was torn and twisted
Everything was broken, thrown all about.
An alien landscape greeted our eyes
Sunshine lighting our way
as tiny shards of ice rained down.
The storm had passed, but the memory
Burnt forever in my heart.
(Entered for oneshotwednesday on 24/05/11 - Onestoppoetry.com)
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