Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Paul Hansford Aug 2016
Why does a cow say moo, Daddy?
  How many leaves has a tree?
Why am I smaller than you, Daddy?
  How does food turn into me?

Why is an elephant big, Daddy?
  And why is an ant so small?
Why can't a cat be a pig, Daddy?
  Can't you answer my questions at all?

How do puddles see their reflection, Daddy?
  Have unicorns ever been?
And, not that there's any connection, Daddy,
  Why is a tangerine?

I've puzzled as hard as I can, Daddy,
  But why can't I go to the moon?
Will I know it all when I'm a man, Daddy?
  Will I be grown up soon?

I know that the sky can be red, Daddy,
  So why can't the sun be green?
And the thoughts that go round in my head, Daddy,
  How do I know what they mean?

Where does yesterday go, Daddy?
  I don't mean to ask out of turn,
But with so many things I don't know, Daddy,
  How else can a little boy learn?
The audio version of this, read by myself, is available as a "video" on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmfCKk48EG8&feature;=channel
Paul Hansford Aug 2016
Still waters, deep,
surface like glass reflecting green above;
and below are trees, sky,
shadows, leaves, sunlight,
moving and motionless.
Here silent images shimmer now,
and - air breathing suddenly - break.
Unbidden feelings confuse
reality and fantasy.
Which is which?
Fantasy and reality confuse;
feelings unbidden break, suddenly breathing air;
and now shimmer images,
silent here, motionless
and moving....
(sunlight leaves shadows).
Sky, trees are
below - and above -
green, reflecting, glass-like surface.
Deep waters, still.
This is a reflection in three senses - (1) it is about a reflection in a lake; (2) it is a reflection, or musing, on the scene; (3) it reads the same backwards as forwards.
I have seen many verses claiming to be palindromic, but very rarely one that fully obeys the definition. This one is the only one I have achieved. I have never written another one, and would be surprised if I did!
A Voice recording masquerading as a video is available at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXrSZpBg2WI&feature;=youtu.be
Paul Hansford Aug 2016
Found in the churchyard of St Botolph's, Aldgate,
one distant lunchtime sixty years ago,
and saved perhaps from second burial
less ceremonial than its first had been,
would Hamlet have mused on this? A finger-bone,
less striking than a skull but just as dead.

I keep it now and wonder  
what skill he had possessed, the one who owned it.
Was he a tailor or a silversmith?
a carpenter? a weaver? or (none of those)
a lowly labourer, or a sly pickpocket?
Was it a woman's finger, a high-born lady?
or housewife (working her fingers to the bone)?

Did that hand long ago once guide a pen,
inscribe long lines of figures in heavy ledgers,
telling the tale of profit or of loss?
Did it write sonnets? messages of love?
or thoughts to pass on to an unknown future?
I cannot know, but still this humble bone,
the nameless relic of a city's past,
may have some little life, if only for me.
Saint Botolph, patron saint of travellers, had churches dedicated to him at four of the ancient gates of the City of London.  Daniel Defoe tells of two pits being dug in the churchyard of St Botolph's, Aldgate, that were filled with the bodies of 5,136 victims of the plague of 1665.  An ancient mystery?
Paul Hansford Aug 2016
The flag, a white crescent and single star
on a field of crimson — kırmızı, not just 'red' —
tells of Islam. The men drinking beer and rakı
at pavement tables, even in Ramadan,
and the short-skirted, bare-armed girls,
parading with bare-faced confidence,
tell of other influences;
but at the appointed hour we hear the call to prayer
from the marble minaret, a slim finger
pointing to the sky beside shining domes
reflecting the vault of heaven.
At five a.m. we hear it faintly through hotel double-glazing,
or at sunset, as a peaceful accompaniment to the spectacle,
and we remember where we are.
But especially at the midday hour,
when the voice of the muezzin echoes
over noisy street or market,
and from another minaret and another
the duet becomes a trio, a quartet
of different melodies, out of tune
with each other but never discordant
(in these tones the word has no meaning),
the faithful are reminded, however busy they may be,
that their God requires something of them.
Then, entering the cool calm of the mosque,
entering the quiet forest of pillars,
feeling through the soles of our bare feet
marble polished by the tread
of generations of worshippers,
fine-grained wood,
the rich softness of crimson carpet,
we luxuriate in the textures as they combine
with the formal floral patterns of the tiles,
the ornate calligraphy of the inscriptions,
the rich colours of the glass,
and we realise that the builders of these mosques
knew what they were doing, so many years ago,
how peace can enter the soul
through the senses.
The letter that looks like a lower-case "i" without the dot and appears here in "kırmızı" and "rakı" is pronounced, in the delightfully phonetic Turkish language, as a kind of "uh", as in "I am writing A [uh] poem" or "I have read THE [thuh] book".
  Aug 2016 Paul Hansford
Tom Balch
Whilst walking on a mountain path
on a red hot fiery day,
I came across a small stone cross
and to myself I say,
I wonder who is buried here
and I wonder what´s his name,
Did he die a peaceful death?
or did he die in pain.

I sat me on the soft green grass
and examined close the cross,
to see if there were any clues
as to the reason for this loss;
I scraped away the undergrowth
from the lichen covered stone,
and there I found these words were caved,
“I lie in peace but not alone”.

I sat a while and pondered this
whilst taking in the scene,
a breath taking view to say the least
so tranquil and serene,
a perfect place to be laid to rest
I told the occupant out loud,
lying here with natures best
beneath the sunshine and the cloud.

I cleared away the bracken
then I wiped away the dirt
and at its base more words were caved
and it was these that really hurt,
“Here lies a dog, a faithful friend,
who did not leave his masters side,
he stayed with him for many weeks
until he too had sadly died”

I travel back here now and then
to tidy up and clear the mess,
I sit and chat about this and that
to my new pal that I´ve named Jess;
The reason I keep coming back
cleaning round this cross of stone,  
is so that Jess (just like his master)
Is not abandoned, left alone*.
  Aug 2016 Paul Hansford
Nessa
My life has changed... I feel cold... Alone.. And upset... I cry silently.. I dont know how to move on and im trying i really am but i just dont know how. I feel something in my heart that i cant explain. Its like a physical pain but medicine doesn't work. My birthday is coming up and its hard to picture any celebration without you.
My head hurts from missing you and sometimes crying. I know time will make it easier but noone talks about the "right now"... Part of me was amputated the day you left

My heart weighs a ton yet its empty. Losing you has been tough although thats an understatement... Its been less than 48 hrs and i have at least 3 things to tell you already.. Who do i tell? I re-read our texts over and over and i smile because i have no regrets. You kno what you mean to me and i sure know wat i meant to you. I even have u tatted on me forever. We did so many firsts together and this.... This right here we were supposed to do together too... But you left me...

You never think that the last time is the LAST time. These emotions come in waves. One minute im okay the other minute all these emotions come rushing and its overwhelming. The minute i think im alright it just starts all over again. I dont know how to handle it but i do know that time will make it easier to cope with.

Some people know what you really meant to me. Others may say she was just your 2nd cousin. But... I've lost my best friend. Yes she was my cousin but thats at the bottom of the list bc blood couldnt make us any closer. She was my ride or die. Usually i was the one always arguing on her behalf tho bc she didnt have a quick enough comeback ever. My partner in crime, My confidante who knew everything and i mean everything even the TMI stuff. My comadre, i still dont kno what to tell the kids... And they just mentioned you today. My heart shattered in that moment. She was just my person...

I can only wish everyone in this world can experience the bond like the one i had with her. The ties that bond us are impossible to explain. Our bond defied distance, time, or location because we were just meant to be.

Because you are my person and will always be my person... I love you

Me duele el alma..
Next page