From the fingers of first
misty light,
rays
of morning shatter
dark chains,
and usher
in daybreak unrehearsed.

Black songster displays
agenda for
mating
by ringing the ether
in trilled carol,
shakes off
damp night and flies away.

Smiles become partner
to awe
after
first heard
feathered dawn-bird's
wordless praise
as life again makes its start.

Raise the eyes for more
and view
nature
revealing truth
that only by such glories
can Love be
understood in unvoiced talk.

I catch somehow
the view
of inside tears in eyes
that peer
shyly
from furrowed brow.

Behind the smile
bravely
shown for camera
lens,
the pretence ends
as
all the while
endless
dry red dust
surrounds the sound
of home
falling,
wall by broken wall,
but
smile she must.

Homeless now,
with age-old grit
she sits,
aware
her world has stopped.
- - -
- -
Another bomb
- -
in error,
- -
dropped.

After Effects.

For days hurt raged and blew gales of tears, rain
drenching her already sunken heart drowned,
in saddest blue mist the darkened windowpane
of her young mind witnessing life closing down.

He had gone, now facing rough after effects
she could only brace more against this storm
of despair which, battering self-respect,
made her heart wish she had never been born.

Pain swallows will for a while, but fighters live
and sensing this, she began to untie,
slowly, hurt's strings and relearn forgiveness,
then boldness felt, shoulders shrugged tears dry.

More trying brought smiles remembering times
when laughter washed friendship and memories
of good times changing the mood she restyled
new outlook of viewing what "used to be".

Now on becoming solely her own, loneliness
faded for acceptance revealed her wholeness.

Small Happenings.

With thanks to G.M Hopkins, the poet
who inspired this verse
with his famous words of Pied Beauty.
---------------------------------------------------

Let us celebrate little things.
A butterfly's wings.
The solo a blackbird sings.
Mad march-hare flings.
The way one raindrop clings.
Ripe seed-pod pings.
A spider's steel-web strings.

Let us notice the hidden things
First snow-melt springs.
A buzzard's broad flight wings.
Wild mushroom rings.
Bluebell's low bend as it swings.
Falling chestnut dings.
The fresh smell a shower brings.

Let us delight in minute things.
Find joy in small happenings.

Spinning Stardust.

Fairytale stories roll off golden pens
as airy and fanciful minds start curling
over the edge of unreal to write again
idealized dreams woven with gossamer words,
spinning lined phrases they capture reason
to turn it into ethereal rhyme where
knights always win fair favours to please
fine ladies, ride hard-won word-stallions, compose
emotion, odes to bliss, win battles repeatedly
and deliver versed grief at times, poets
scribe care for world events, artful schemes
leave their mark on hearts, readers would miss
imagery mystically wrought, so trusting
metaphor's meaning found between lines catch
hidden passion and dance in its stardust.

Colour Me Love.

Colour me bubbles of misty-blue love.
Blow them, drifting on soundless high cloud.
I wait here, gratefully searching above
A whispering sky, knowing the ether around
My window pane will resound once again
To more heart-warming secrets, hauntingly
Packaged by words wrapped in your name,
And containing nothing but love unforced.
Colour me baubles of glistening gems.
Rubies for hugs, emeralds for evergreen
Promise of undying devotion and bend
Them like rainbowing arrows, gleaming
Their star-studded aerial journey straight
Into my dreams, colour me gentle, cover
My fears in caring spheres at the gateway
Of this beating heart and paint me with love.