A Pleasant Contagion
The light in the eyes
of one who feels loved
affects all who meet them
they do not know why

Imagination,
versatile thinking
makes a good Haiku

Bill paid
Hair done
Poem written
The day's starting well

Splinters of plastic
pierce outer skin of the year
we labour to save

The man using Charlie's transporter
had a beautiful languorous daughter.
She said 'Give me a lift'
He said 'Not on my shift -
I know you - you'll fall in the water'

A poetry guru named Sean
Said 'Limericks just make me yawn.
The rhyming is flat,
the meter's old hat,
free verse is my thing, not old corn.'

Which box?
That box
This box?
THAT box
Home, boxed

Natural Beauty
Waterfall splashing
laughter music dancing
Almost a poem

Is there an infinite number of stars?
No, matter is always finite
I lie in the hayloft pillowed by straw
innocently looking for the ultimate star
but it's all a mirage

I sat in the shelter
as the sunset flared

In my steel thermos
is hot freeze-dried coffee
instant, not ground
but
a sure reviver

Self-discipline
is remembering what you want-
and not being diverted

Heavy rain
lets you know
which of your shoes
leak

Tuesday
I get new windows
Wednesday new door
I'm happy

Who could invent more
than spring has already
begun to display?
what poetic lens
could improve on
her wild, yet gentle,
detailed unwrapping
of colours, flowers,
leaves, textures
revealing, unfolding,
teasing, rewarding,
nodding and dancing,
joyfully singing
her perpetual
ever-new refrain?

Overwhelmed
by jobs
from all directions
Why did I volunteer?

My footsteps
pad along the track
A bird sings
Peace

Anything?
What do you mean
by anything?
Literally, any thing?

The remorseless rain
beats against the wall
the wind rippling the puddles
of water on the path.

At the window
I ask 'Is it an omen?
Were the seer's words
as senseless as they seemed?'

To the untrained eye
most modern art -
'modern'  meaning anything
this century or less -
though luminously painted
remains mysterious
and at times a shock,
a shock so great
as to render one speechless,
minus even a syllable,
on the gallery's contents

Though a friend of mine
a respected artist
was heard to say
as she left the exhibition
"scrambled egg, scrambled egg"

great-grandpa
bushy-bearded
lively, loved
was a Squirrell
with two ls

Nights lengthen
Days darken
Brightly coloured leaves
cheer me up

Bats in a Belfry
sound poetic
but make much mess

Join a poetry group
for chatty composing
laughter and learning

"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who is the fairest of them all?"

Look at her skin so pale and lovely,
Her fine gold hair in ringlets twirled,

But see - she is cycling as hard as she's able
on an exercise bike, as fast as she can,
the sweat fairly spilling
down onto the floor.

Her aim, to fit into that tiny bikini
and win the Miss Nowhere's imaginary crown.

Was it worth it? Who's telling?
and what was the score?

At Epiphany each year
I think of the Magi
who foolishly doubted
a star's inspired leading
and went to Jerusalem
to enquire of a king.

A king who was noted
for disposing of claimants
to the crown that he guarded
as if held by glue.

In an instant the destiny
of scores of young children
was wiped out forever
by this one mistake.

Had they read Micah's prophecy
of the birth of a Saviour
they would have reached the stable
as lovers to a tryst

and the Bethlehem children
would have lived life as normal.
The carpenter of Nazareth
would still be the Saviour
and the blackbird have sung
over cradles, not graves.

It’s a strange world
when a single word
can get under your skin

stopping your breath
feeling like death
with weights on your wings

trapped in a triangle
freedom is dangling
beyond reach on a string

"Just write a poem"
says the group leader
Nothing comes

I haven't
a particle of poetry
in me
Nothing rhymes

Box lids
belong on boxes
Painted
hung
appear undressed
Discomfited

The door opened.
"Sorry"
she said
and went out
again

Mind too full
even to find
ten words?
That's preoccupation!

In reds' country
Grey squirrel
Insolently
Runs along beside me

Over the doorways
new cameras are watching
I wave as I pass

Five-Word competition
challenges poets
to include each one
meaningfully

The loose sort
is disappearing
It can't be used
online

What is a change?
An alteration
longed-for or loathed
mental or physical
swift or subtle
demanding or gentle

and some changes
make things better

Wherever I go
he's there with his walking frame
smiling cheerfully

What can I wish you?
Good in abundance, inner peace,
infinite blessings

A message of love
is sent down through the ages
every Christmas

Don't let the worry
of giving and preparing
wipe out the wonder

Thirty years ago
Ethel in Australia said:
"We used to have new outfits
for Easter, and you knew it would be fine.

Now you don't know what to buy
or when
since weather has become
inconstant, unreliable"

2019
It's mid June in England
should be warm and sunny
It's raining and I'm cold

Potplants nearly given away
for not flowering
are suddenly budding

I'm wending my way
to the poetry group
trying to frame
from alphabet soup
some rhythmic offering
by way of a change
from shame-faced admittance
"I've nothing"- how strange!
But just as I join them
with something to say

They're doing Haiku

Good voice
but I'd like
to have heard some words

"Don't burst blood vessels"
says my enigmatic friend
"Stay cool, man, stay cool"

The arts and crafts house is a labour of love  
No plastic is found here
but deftly placed splinters of differing woods
carefully entwined
trace the outer line of the year
in which each piece was made

It everyone crunches
together
nobody notices
how loud
you are

Herdwicks
look at you kindly
Knowing
you can't help it

I enjoy having
two daily meals provided
Problem:
Tight waistband

I plan to do so much
and accomplish so little