Looking back, I remember the owl did hoot.
What is the route
To a girl’s heart?
Where to start?
The park
Was dark.
You and I talked as we walked
Back to the hall.
I recall
You remarked on the romance of the owl’s cry
But try
As I might
The night
Ended in tea
And me
Alone
At home.
I enjoyed the poems below Kate’s introduction and, of course the introduction itself. Kevin
Hello There
I’m Kate. Pleased to meet you. Thanks for taking the time to read this blog.
I write poetry, (no yawning out there!) some short stories and I am trying to write a children’s book (although it’s glacially slow at the moment)
I write poems about whatever pops into my head. So they can be about a flower, a missed bus, a cosy night by the fire or even a screaming row.
My short stories tend to be observational (names changed to protect the innocent of course :0) ).
This is my first entry into the ‘WordPress’ world, so hope you’ll be patient with me.
I will post poems and stories or just general ‘musings’ as and when they’re ready.
I hope you will have a read through and if you would like to post a message or a comment to say what you thought, or ‘like’, That would be fabulous.
As a start, I…
View original post 539 more words
The puppets on a string
Swing
This way and that
In accordance with the command of the fat
Puppateer.
Far and near
They dance.
Circumstance
Dictates he has control
Of the whole
Play.
The ringmaster may pay
To have his way
Tomorrow and today,
But, heres the thing
should the string
Break, will the puppets stay?
Thank you to Dawn D for kind permission to reproduce her poem, “The Oak”. The below is copyright and may not be reproduced without the explicit permission of Dawn D. Dawn’s blog is currently private. You can, however contact Dawn to request access.
The Oak
Die Eiche
Ich bin die Eiche.
Ich bin das Eichhörnchen, ich bin der Vogel, die in dieser Eiche leben.
Ich bin die Frau, die unter dieser Eiche vergewaltigt wurde.
Ich bin der Mann, der ab dieser Eiche gehängt wurde.
Ich bin der Wind, der durch die Blätter dieser Eiche fließt.
Es gibt keine Zeit, nur Ewigkeit.
Ich bin frei, ich bin stark. Ich bin Ich!
The oak
I am the oak.
I am the squirrel, I am the bird, that live in that oak.
I am the woman who got raped under that oak.
I am the man who got hung from that oak.
I am the wind that flows through the leaves of that oak.
There is no time, only eternity.
I am free, I am strong. I am Me!
(For the original post please visit, https://dawnsnight.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/poetry-2/).
A serpent with a smooth tongue
Did feel
The heel
Of a girl’s shoe
As through
The grass
It slithered.
The girl quivered
But knew not she had been stung
By one who lives among
Rakes in suits
Who’s boots
Will trample a maiden’s heart.
She had not the art
To comprehend
The depths to which man will descend
Nor how he does attain his fell ends.
Yesterday evening I went out for a drink with an old friend. As always in these situations I had with me my guide dog Trigger. On my friend going to the bar to get some much needed liquid refreshment, a gentleman on the table adjacent to mine said words to the effect of,
“Can I feed your dog?”
“No thank you, he gets two meals a day and feeding him encourages begging”, I replied.
“But he’s hungry”, came the response.
“He’s always hungry, that is the nature of dogs”, I said starting to feel exasperated.
“He’s obviously hungry”, my new acquaintance persisted.
At this point my friend returned with the drinks and the conversation with the man on the adjacent table ceased and, shortly afterwards he and his companions left.
While the above incident certainly didn’t spoil my enjoyment of the evening, I was left with a feeling of exasperation as regards self-appointed experts who, in point of fact have absolutely zero knowledge on the subjects they pontificate on. I follow the advice of the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association (GDBA) in providing my dog, Trigger with 2 meals a day, together with dog treats on a controlled basis. Trigger is a lab/retriever cross and as anyone who owns or has owned this breed will know they do have a tendency to behave like walking dustbins. One can give a lab a generous helping of food and a minute later he will be looking for more, its just the nature of labs!
This morning Trigger had a severe attack of the runs which now (thankfully) seem to have cleared up. While I have no way of knowing it seems rather a coincidence that this should happen the morning after a fellow pub goer implied Trigger is underfed. I cant help wondering if something wholly inappropriate as regards dog food found it’s way into the stomach of my four legged friend. Be that as it may, I should not be subjected to the no doubt well meaning but wholly ill informed comments of self-appointed experts.
(For a helpful post on how to approach a guide dog please see, http://www.guidedogs.org.uk/microsites/sponsor-a-puppy/blogs/2015/april/ever-wondered-how-to-approach-a-guide-dog-and-their-owner#.V1LTIL5MTIU).
Kevin
Carpet by heels worn.
Man’s heart torn
Asunder
By blades that plunder
His nightly slumber.
To and fro
The dancers go.
Ever changing,
Exchanging
Well worn words.
Love my friend, is for the birds …
The Poetry Book Society (PBS), founded by poet T. S. Eliot is to close following the withdrawal of Arts Council funding. For the Guardian article please visit (https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/jun/03/cuts-hit-poetry-book-society-to-close).
Pandora’s box is deep.
Her mother would weep
Where she to spy
The secrets that within it lie.
Curiosity killed the cat:
His hat
that room.
The moon
still shonne
And the night continued on
