Beaverlea - Hello Poetry

Life began with expectation Tending to the barren bed Painful hope and disappointment Driving each repeat attempt Joyful prayer and jubilation Welcomed in a budding shoot Joined by leafy, sibling heads the Crowning young boldly unfurled Instinct nurtured their progression Soft hands stroked each silken leaf Revelling in propagation Wonder forged Taurean strength Soon each seedling sprouted high and Outgrew its familial crib Tendrils stretching boldly out Testing, straining boundaries Cupped in trepidatious fingers Nervously each found its place Being swaddled and surrounded Ceded saplings confidence Basking in the sunlit bedding Independence spread its roots Yet still needing reassurance Cautious in fresh liberty Branching out, each budding flower Cultivated character Crimson fire, cocky cobalt, Mellow blonde with golden hue Satisfaction smiles over Burgeoning maturity Vigilent, maternal counsel Stakes up blooming confidence Predators surround each blossom: Pestilence apocalypse Constant, careful conservation Safeguards childish ignorance Basking in the garden’s beauty Watching bees promote rebirth Contemplating life’s real purpose She smiles at nature’s knowing plan

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Aug 29, 2018

Aug 29, 2018 at 7:22 AM UTC

The Gardener

Life began with expectation Tending to the barren bed Painful hope and disappointment Driving each repeat attempt Joyful prayer and jubilation Welcomed in a budding shoot Joined by leafy, sibling heads the Crowning young boldly unfurled Instinct nurtured their progression Soft hands stroked each silken leaf Revelling in propagation Wonder forged Taurean strength Soon each seedling sprouted high and Outgrew its familial crib Tendrils stretching boldly out Testing, straining boundaries Cupped in trepidatious fingers Nervously each found its place Being swaddled and surrounded Ceded saplings confidence Basking in the sunlit bedding Independence spread its roots Yet still needing reassurance Cautious in fresh liberty Branching out, each budding flower Cultivated character Crimson fire, cocky cobalt, Mellow blonde with golden hue Satisfaction smiles over Burgeoning maturity Vigilent, maternal counsel Stakes up blooming confidence Predators surround each blossom: Pestilence apocalypse Constant, careful conservation Safeguards childish ignorance Basking in the garden’s beauty Watching bees promote rebirth Contemplating life’s real purpose She smiles at nature’s knowing plan

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The sun slinks into golden hue Melting on the horizon It trickles through turrets and chimneys A final reflection on a window A moment, then Absorbed and claimed by the silent silhouettes Gone, an echo lingering; Twilight Silently creeps down the space remaining Claiming a quiet victory Bright lights appear and twinkle Welcoming Father Night

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Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC

Twilight

The sun slinks into golden hue Melting on the horizon It trickles through turrets and chimneys A final reflection on a window A moment, then Absorbed and claimed by the silent silhouettes Gone, an echo lingering; Twilight Silently creeps down the space remaining Claiming a quiet victory Bright lights appear and twinkle Welcoming Father Night

11

The rain hits the windscreen With force and with might It endlessly bounces In line of our sight Our view is restricted Our senses assaulted It lashes unceaseless Then suddenly stops

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Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 7:00 AM UTC

The Journey

The rain hits the windscreen With force and with might It endlessly bounces In line of our sight Our view is restricted Our senses assaulted It lashes unceaseless Then suddenly stops

8

I woke this morning, feeling lazy, Slowly slipping from my dreams Of you and me and us together, Happiness surrounding me; Enveloping and comforting, a Duvet hug of epic scale, Of arms and legs entwined together Never ending, ever safe And warm and patient, always loving; Then you wake and smile at me.

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 7:42 AM UTC

This Morning

I woke this morning, feeling lazy, Slowly slipping from my dreams Of you and me and us together, Happiness surrounding me; Enveloping and comforting, a Duvet hug of epic scale, Of arms and legs entwined together Never ending, ever safe And warm and patient, always loving; Then you wake and smile at me.

10

There is a world that no one knows Where life unnoticed grows and thrives Where birth and death and all between Are scrutinised, yet are unseen Where innocence and purity In white are welcomed, full of hope Impinging slowly, edging in Life’s colour forming character Where independent yellow gloats In fierce teen triumph ‘Look at me!” With fun and laughter orange glows And reaches high in happiness Experience and independence Rich lessons teach and edges darken Their lives on show, rough judgement falls And ‘I prefer the red’ is thrown About and listened to and felt And colours deepen, darkened hue In wind and rain and sunshine showers Red develops, life impinges Bright happiness or blood-red wisdom Growing older, growing wiser Where petals turning in reveal Quiet pom-pom introversion While out-turned fingers stretch with glee Prima donnas, dancing, twirling Where purple self-awareness turns Each pink and mauve and lilac from The bloom of youth towards life’s wane Yet far enough away, rebelling Where days grow shorter, sliding past Yet hands stretch out and cup each face And noses breathe and fingers touch And bees buzz past and voices rise And babies cry and old men laugh And yet unknown, unseen, life slows Bright-eyed the purple-rinse brigade With sparkle-induced energy Remembering and reminiscing Their days they fill with endless chatter Late Autumn falls and nights draw near White heads do droop and slip, like snow Fine petals drift into the breeze An echo whispering til Spring.

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC

THE SECRET LIVES OF DAHLIAS – A POEM INSPIRED BY THE DAHLIAS AT ANGLESEY ABBEY NT

There is a world that no one knows Where life unnoticed grows and thrives Where birth and death and all between Are scrutinised, yet are unseen Where innocence and purity In white are welcomed, full of hope Impinging slowly, edging in Life’s colour forming character Where independent yellow gloats In fierce teen triumph ‘Look at me!” With fun and laughter orange glows And reaches high in happiness Experience and independence Rich lessons teach and edges darken Their lives on show, rough judgement falls And ‘I prefer the red’ is thrown About and listened to and felt And colours deepen, darkened hue In wind and rain and sunshine showers Red develops, life impinges Bright happiness or blood-red wisdom Growing older, growing wiser Where petals turning in reveal Quiet pom-pom introversion While out-turned fingers stretch with glee Prima donnas, dancing, twirling Where purple self-awareness turns Each pink and mauve and lilac from The bloom of youth towards life’s wane Yet far enough away, rebelling Where days grow shorter, sliding past Yet hands stretch out and cup each face And noses breathe and fingers touch And bees buzz past and voices rise And babies cry and old men laugh And yet unknown, unseen, life slows Bright-eyed the purple-rinse brigade With sparkle-induced energy Remembering and reminiscing Their days they fill with endless chatter Late Autumn falls and nights draw near White heads do droop and slip, like snow Fine petals drift into the breeze An echo whispering til Spring.

44

Children’s voices crying out and laughing loud and clear Like an orchestra of sound for everyone to hear The bass starts first, parental leave gives go ahead to play The marching beat as kids go forth and out into the day A trumpet hail for company is raised from door to door The flute returns, the oboe too accompanied by more The fun begins on strings and swings go back and forth with speed All cares and woes are flung away percussion takes the lead A drumroll raises up the stakes a dangerous new move Chromatic scales, gymnastic fails the cymbal’s sharp reprove The roundabout reveals the chorus repeating the refrain The highs, the lows and all between All voices sing again The seesaw conversation starts bassoons begin up high The oboes and an English horn ascend into the sky A far away note penetrates the happy symphony A lone voice trills with increased speed and calls out ‘Time for Tea’ As kids go home the conductor Bows and takes his leave The park is left in quietness notes floating in the breeze

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC

The Playground

Children’s voices crying out and laughing loud and clear Like an orchestra of sound for everyone to hear The bass starts first, parental leave gives go ahead to play The marching beat as kids go forth and out into the day A trumpet hail for company is raised from door to door The flute returns, the oboe too accompanied by more The fun begins on strings and swings go back and forth with speed All cares and woes are flung away percussion takes the lead A drumroll raises up the stakes a dangerous new move Chromatic scales, gymnastic fails the cymbal’s sharp reprove The roundabout reveals the chorus repeating the refrain The highs, the lows and all between All voices sing again The seesaw conversation starts bassoons begin up high The oboes and an English horn ascend into the sky A far away note penetrates the happy symphony A lone voice trills with increased speed and calls out ‘Time for Tea’ As kids go home the conductor Bows and takes his leave The park is left in quietness notes floating in the breeze

36

Our past seems like an age ago A distant and fond memory An echo of laughter and sadness That rumbles away down the years Remember the time that I told you Of imminent, life changing plans We discussed the alternative options And dissected the future at hand We spoke on the phone for a lifetime We chatted from dusk until dawn We solved the world’s problems and issues We talked about nothing at all Embracing all my imperfections You treasured my soul anyway You cherished ideas and discussion And valued what I had to say We’d years of affection and laughter And burying our sorrows with beers We’d go walking and talking on days out And spoke of our innermost fears But life has a way of reproving Belief that all time will stand still Reality comes chasing, unceaseless, Overtaking our plans and our will And now we have spouses and babies And houses and mortgages too And days just seem to go faster And time slinks away from our view Then one day you hear distant echoes That whisper at you from afar You listen and **** your ear higher And slow down, remember, and smile

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC

Old Friends

Our past seems like an age ago A distant and fond memory An echo of laughter and sadness That rumbles away down the years Remember the time that I told you Of imminent, life changing plans We discussed the alternative options And dissected the future at hand We spoke on the phone for a lifetime We chatted from dusk until dawn We solved the world’s problems and issues We talked about nothing at all Embracing all my imperfections You treasured my soul anyway You cherished ideas and discussion And valued what I had to say We’d years of affection and laughter And burying our sorrows with beers We’d go walking and talking on days out And spoke of our innermost fears But life has a way of reproving Belief that all time will stand still Reality comes chasing, unceaseless, Overtaking our plans and our will And now we have spouses and babies And houses and mortgages too And days just seem to go faster And time slinks away from our view Then one day you hear distant echoes That whisper at you from afar You listen and **** your ear higher And slow down, remember, and smile

32

Minarets stand tall and sleek and proud, announcing prayers at intervals at odds with the hourly bells of the basilica Red rooves jostle for space amid bullet-ridden history and rejuvenated, freshly painted homes and tourist-inducing restaurants and market shops selling trinkets: silk scarves, bronze pots wooden flutes and ubiquitious paintings of Stari Most Crowds fill the lane leading to the revered bridge, like pilgrims A heady mix of peaceful nations, short skirts passing by headscarves trading surreptitious glances snapping photos of the bridge or themselves and the bridge or loved ones and the bridge Watching with a rooftop drink a bold and daring young man small and youthful from a distance encourages support and jumps into the cold Neretva river vigorously proving life goes on

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Aug 18, 2018

Aug 18, 2018 at 10:31 AM UTC

MOSTAR – A VIEW OF STARI MOST

Minarets stand tall and sleek and proud, announcing prayers at intervals at odds with the hourly bells of the basilica Red rooves jostle for space amid bullet-ridden history and rejuvenated, freshly painted homes and tourist-inducing restaurants and market shops selling trinkets: silk scarves, bronze pots wooden flutes and ubiquitious paintings of Stari Most Crowds fill the lane leading to the revered bridge, like pilgrims A heady mix of peaceful nations, short skirts passing by headscarves trading surreptitious glances snapping photos of the bridge or themselves and the bridge or loved ones and the bridge Watching with a rooftop drink a bold and daring young man small and youthful from a distance encourages support and jumps into the cold Neretva river vigorously proving life goes on

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