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Silver Spring what do you bring

Drip drip, the snow is loosing it’s grip and Winter Wonder is looking tired. She has been dragging her skirts through the fields and turning then to slush it really is becoming bothersome to her as she does so hate to rush.

But who is this peeking through the cracks in the clouds, hiding in the buds of flowers and calling to Wonder but not too loud?

It is her little sister the youngest of them all, most delicate and gentle soul, Silver Spring the song birds all do her call.She is the light touch of a gentle breeze that gently rustles through your hair. She runs her fingers along the branches and makes the snow to thaw then dances on our roofs and paths so it disappears some more.

She is dancing up and down the flower beds and whispering to the buds, “Come on my little lovelys it is time to raise your heads! Waking up the squirrels and every animal that hibernates, hurry hurry she gently coos I have filled your breakfast plates.

Silver Spring is busy waking up the leaves and buds that Autumn Annie put to sleep there really is so much to she has a routine to keep

Silver has to raise the flowers, the blossoms and the buds and prepare the farmers fields so he can grow his crops. Freeing up the lakes and rivers and the little streams as she dances through meadows she leaves behind hers grass and flowers lots of yellows and greens.

So as she wakes the sun and stokes up its warming fire the beauty of her season can be seen like silver glinting off of the church spire! Silver has to work slowly these things cannot be rushed but just like her sisters she is arranging her canvas and her brush.

Silver is very lucky she has such a colour choice , blues, greens, yellow and purples I could go on until I loose my voice. Silver can be unkind and tempt you out to play the sky the flowers can trick you into thinking it is warm enough today.Wonder will be hiding and slip out on tippie toes and chap you knees and make red your nose.

Yes silver is the youngest and in her defence there is much to say she makes promise of what is yet to come and echoes what has just slipped away .

Yes she has the echo of her oldest sister but once she has begun she wakes us all from long cold winter and warms us with a waking sun. The sap with in the trees and plants begins to rise. All the young men and the girls get a sparkle in their eyes.

The flowers and the crops all begin to wake and and grass begins to grow again hear the noise the mowers make. So welcome, welcome Silver Spring we sing your praises anew but now we must hurry off for there is so much spring cleaning to do.

Magic on the dance floor

See Pat on the dance floor see her reddy brown hair styled to the last strand dancing with a young man who leads her by the hand. Watch her glittery red dress how it catches the light it is red with silver threads in, she really looks just right.

A group, now have formed around her joining in her fun she smiles and looks so happy her eyes as bright as the sun. She knows the band so well and they recognize her too she has been a regular for so long she knows their set through and through.

Her eyes really sparkle as she sings along with the words she loves it on the dance floor she can be a free as a bird. Her long slim legs all silky end in graceful dancing shoes. It is great out on the dance floor no one knows who is who!

Yes Pat loves it on the dance floor having so much fun she is herself now, no ones wife, lover or even mum. So as the music finishes and floor begins to clear the group call her name and thank her for being here. Her prince charming smiles down at her as he returns her to her table.

Lady in red — http://alexsavillephotography.com/

He thanks her for joining him , she smiles at him and says “Thanks as long as I am able.” Nothing is ever going to stop Pat if she wants to dance some more, as long as her mobility scooter moves she will be out there on the dance floor!

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(The photo used is is of no one I know I found it on the net , it seemed to express what I am trying to say in this poem.)

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WEDNESDAY POETRY CHALLANGE

Wednesday Poetry Challenge #1

October 12, 2011

When I was a child my father used to read to me each night. Everything he read he read with such feeling that in my memory it is all poetry. I have recently started writing poems and without knowing I have a adopted a “ posetry” style. I say “posetry” because some of the people who have read my work have called it so because of the mix and style.

This is one of my favorites of all times.

“WILD SWANS” written by HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSON

HAPPY MEMORIES HAPPY DAYS.

FAR away, where the swallows fly when our winter comes on, lived a King who had eleven sons, and one daughter named Eliza. The eleven brothers were Princes, and each went to school with a star on his breast and his sword by his side.

They wrote with pencils of diamond upon slates of gold, and learned by heart just as well as they read; one could see directly that they were Princes. Their sister Eliza sat upon a little stool of plate-glass, and had a picture-book which had been bought for the value of half a kingdom.

Oh, the children were particularly well off; but it was not always to remain so. Their father, who was king of the whole country, married a bad Queen who did not love the poor children at all. On the very first day they could notice this.

In the whole palace there was great feasting, and the children were playing there. Then guests came; but instead of the children receiving, as they had been accustomed to do, all the spare cake and all the roasted apples, they only had some sand given them in a tea-cup, and were told that they might make believe that was something good.

The next week the Queen took the little sister Eliza into the country, to a peasant and his wife; and but a short time had elapsed before she told the King so many falsehoods about the poor Princes, that he did not trouble himself any more about them.

“Fly out into the world and get your own living,” said the wicked Queen. “Fly like great birds without a voice.” 5 But she could not make it so bad for them as she had intended, for they became eleven magnificent wild swans. With a strange cry they flew out of the palace windows, far over the park and into the wood.

http://www.susanjeffers-art.com/swanspg1.html Your turn next please click on link below http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=zumpoems&postid=10Oct2011

Winter Wonda

Annie, Annie lift your skirts and run , your time is up you’ve paved the way now all your work is done. Swirl your skirts, spread your arms and take a bow your colder sister has arrived and so it is her time now.

So Wonda has arrived, it always has been so, she bursts upon the scene just when it is time for Annie to go. Wonda is very busy whipping up the winds she will be whistling up the alleys and nipping at your skin.

She is frosting up your windscreens and freezing up your locks she is chilling you to the bone and making you wear your socks. She is painting pretty patterns on your window panes and dropping the wrong snow on the lines and stopping all the trains.

She has been out painting without a colour mix she only uses black and white she really has a talent for hiding trash and sticks and lighting up the night. The skies she colours grey with fluffy fluffy clouds , sometimes she will splash out on a blue blue sky, she makes it so beautiful, she really does it proud.

She can blind you with a blizzard and startle you with white she looks amazing in the moonlight where she will dazzle bright. She’ll tinge bare branches with silver and make all the pathways white and check up on the little birds in nests to make sure they are alright.

She is always very busy as she has to end the year and she loves a party at Christmas she is full of merriment and cheer.She looks in all the houses windows to see the Christmas trees she breaths patterns on the windows then quickly makes them freeze.

She no sooner helps the old year out when she has the baby new year to usher in. She has no chance to turn around so she whizzes and she spins. She can trap an unsuspecting traveller in a deep snow drift and she can entice unsuspecting revellers on lakes of ice, then she can make the ice shift. Like everything in this world she isn’t always nice.

So she is freezing up the water and bursting all the pipes, stopping all the traffic and putting out all the lights , turning off the electricity, ovens full of food no warmth left in the radiators …. she can be mean and rude!

But on a snow white morning or on a moonlit night she be the best, of everything. bright and crisp and light.

Back ground noise

It is hassling me in the day time and all through the night, it is there when am trying to concentrate no wonder nothing is right! It is there when I am happy and when I am sad. I will not be shut out it just keeps telling me I am bad.

I can’t read a book or watch the TV because it’s strident voice is banging on at me.” You need to do it this way, you need to do some more you need to try to be like you were before!” I can’t concentrate when talking face to face or even on the phone and I cannot escape it if I am out or if I am at home.

It never has a good word for me. It never say okay you’ve really put the effort in or take a rest you’ve had a hard day. No it is all just criticism and always puts me down. If it had a face to look at me it would wear a frown.

When I am at my weakest and pain besets my body and my brain it is there shouting “you are a fraud and you are lazy do more ” again and again. I try to out sing it I try to read a book I hide in this computer anything to get me off the hook.

I have stood up to it and stared it in the eye. I have told it I can’t manage what it wants. It sneers at me shouting “Why?? ” I crawl in to the corner and cover up my ears but it is still going on demanding why I am in tears.

It says I am coward, lazy and a freak . I says I should do the things my body can’t, it say I am a cheat. It says I should be walking faster, longer and without a stick it says I should not be tired anything that will my conscience to prick.

I need to find a volume knob I need to find a switch I need to lower it’s tone so it can quietly bitch. It seems I can’t escape it so to live with it I must endeavour if I could make it back ground noise perhaps I could cope with it forever?

So if it will not leave me, if it insists to stay I need to learn to cope with it in a clever way. So when it starts to berate me when it begins to crow I will say OH! it is that back ground noise and somehow turn it down to low!!

Autumn Annie

She is knocking at the window she is rattling the doors, she is finding tiny gaps anywhere and poking leaves through to dance upon your floor.

She is picking leaves from branches and teaching then to dance she is really very good at this, see how they flow and prance.

She is late at waking up the sun, she lets him have a rest he has been working hard for months so maybe that is fair. She also wants him in bed early after he has cleaned his teeth and brushed his hair!

She is wearing lovely colours, golden yellows, greens and brown she is looking very luscious in her glorious flowing gown.

She is persuading all the flowers to cuddle down in their beds she is whispering that her colder sister is on her way so they should hide their heads. She has convinced the grass that growing is really a pain so it dancing happily as it can rest till spring when it will grow again.

She is making lots of cocca for the creatures that hibernate and throwing then a pyjama party before it gets too late.She is checking on the tortoises convincing them that she knows best and sending all the spiders into the house she really is such a pest!

She is painting wonderful sunsets not a brush stroke to be seen. She has such an eye for warm and flaming colours of the landscape she is Queen.

She has waved goodbye to her sister the lovely Summer Sandy. They are very close you know,well in a family that is handy. Her older sister yet to arrive is waiting in the wings that is why she is so busy now sorting out and preparing things.

So , She is knocking at the window she is rattling the doors, she is finding tiny gaps anywhere and poking leaves through to dance upon your floor.

I wish, I wish

I wish I was a poet I wish that I could write the kind poem that talks of love and life. To speak of shards and fractile light while travelling through this vale of tears. I think that, that is so hard I bet it would take years.

I wish I was an author a best seller I would pen ! I’d wow the critics and public and I’d never work again. Or maybe a screen writer a fantastic gun ho! script, a Gothic terror with vampires cavorting in the crypt.

I wish I could write romances , long painful arduous tales with women running barefoot after their men across the dales. I’d have beautiful nurses falling at the doctors feet . God help the poor patients who we never hear of …perhaps they are all asleep .

I wish I could write science fiction that would be so much fun with planet sized star ships with sonic missile guns. I’d have a charming captain who always knows just what to do , and evil, clever aliens with sexy females the human crew to woo. Travel would be in jet cars that work on voice command and no one would ever need to cook or mend as a replicator would always be on hand.

I wish I could write on politics …well no that is not true , because it is a nasty backstabbing two faced thing to do!

I wish I could write comedy I like to have a laugh, with lots of smiles and happy days I’d split your sides in half.

I wish that could write another verse or two but I have run out of ideas. What a twist of luck for you !

Night Horrors

Continue reading “Night Horrors”

Is it really too late.

Time was late, the day was cold the doors of the coffee shop suddenly flew apart and the sight from the street was enough to stop your heart.

Slowly silently making their way along the street four horsemen approached. We had no knowledge but centuries since, this was the place they had assigned to meet.

As this strange apparition it’s progress did make, it left fights and hunger and deathly illness in it’s wake. Where once was the normal order of life was suddenly killing and gorging and sickness and death. Once happy people now full of strife.

Stopping their horses and dismounting as one they found a spare lamp post their magnificent animals to leash upon. One of their number scanned the street “No parking meters . Sweet!”

They entered the coffee shop and two fights broke out and terrible hunger and thirst spread about. Terrified customers died in the rush for the door and people started to sicken with rashes and pustules and what’s more there was blood and guts all over the floor.

the-four-horsemen-of-the-apocalypse — Phantom Horses

Death motioned the others to get a table then approached the strangely thin, sick looking lad at the bar and ordered four Americanos and a bagel! The boy felt so weak and fear gripped his throat as he looked in to the eyes of Death the rest of his staff were in the same boat lost and helpless’ bereft of hope!

Setting down the tray and handing Famine his food , “I wanted expresso “griped War in a mood. Death raised his scythe and told him to mind his place. For he had the last word and was in charge of this space!

Finally with the local humans all dead they sipped quietly on their coffee, just for now doing what their leader had said.

187250541_730e0ecc97 — Empty coffee cups

After a short while Conquest / Pestilence looked up asked “is this coffee fair trade” as he finished his cup. Famine smirked at the joke his brother had made. “I need another , where is the barista ” Death answered ” He died”…… “Okay” Famine sighed

Coffee over, decisions needed to be made how to deal with this world’s problem. Plans had to be laid. “I think I should simply traverse this world and make them their missiles unfurl,” said War before adding “then with you Death in my wake , how long would total annihilation take?”

“No “chipped in Pestilence I can spread my cloak and make them all suffer. you can then step in Death, as they cough and coke.” War banged the table ready to fight but Death then stepped in knowing his way was right .

“Looking around brothers do you not agree they are doing an excellent job of destroying themselves without any help from you or me.” He saw they were not happy with his intervention so he enlightened them all with ghastly intentions . “We need to just hover on the sidelines and leave them to fester. It will all end soon, this planet cannot sustain forever these hopeless jesters!

They thought for a while while Death entertained them, he fiddle like Nero back when Rome was burning. but not such giggle.

The decision was made and they all agreed they would just make thing worse for all those in need , they would feed the wars and starve the medical fractions, of knowledge and money. They would disease the corn the milk and the honey. Death would stalk the world in his usual way clearing up the mess and dead at the end of the day.

They then left the scene of their destroying powers and rode off together into the west leaving death and destruction and lots of wilting flowers .

The News papers and TV got the story the very same day. Police want to question four hoodies on horse back they say.There is a witness a child who manage to hide and lived to tell what they had seen. Apparently strange horses , one white,one red , one black and one pale green?

The headlines over well maybe one more then it is back to Famine in Africa and a new Plague from the States and now they started yet another War! The Greenies are screaming we must save Mother Earth unknowing that she already dancing a dirge with a worn out and tired Death.

Death sat in a corner and polished his scythe and pondered the meeting that morning , well he had at least tried to buy these humans ( for whom he actually cared) some time . But even holding off his brothers, of hope there still was no sign.

He was tired of all the work he had to do, exhausted in fact, and his brothers were too. The task set before them was too great for them to solve .. Hopefully God will intervene and those irritating humans will evolve !

War

Death, Desolation, Destruction! Men taught hate men taught to wait til death comes to claim them.

Stink, Stench Smell of bodies sinking in the mud tell their own story. Is this man’s best glory.

Drench, Damp Dripping their guns are filthy,bullets all spent . They all gave up hoping.

Boom,Bang Whistle, they no longer hear they no longer fear the hair on their necks no longer bristle.

Dead all dead and left to rot . This was the war to end all wars ……….. How soon we all forgot.

Sear, Smear Singe . Nothing has changed in the theatre of war they are battling still on the fringe they know the score.

Shout , Scream Squeal they will still advance they have lost the ability to feel. No longer human their souls are worn out and why are they out there? Can you answer beyond any doubt.

Sun ,Sand Storms fight for your life, fight for your sight fight freedom for all ..as if that day will ever dawn wait to hear the cock call!

Death, Desolation, Destruction! Men taught hate men taught to wait til death comes to claim them.