Winter February finalises,
his tenure o'er, so oft unkind,
let Winter withdraw with firm good-bye.
Hence I eager look to milder clime.
Comes March, thus inclined to breezy moil,
tulips and head held high daffodils
Springs blossom bud borne on once bare boughs  
whence sleeping floras grateful hues rouse,
precedes, mostly mellow, April’s charm,
softened through sporadic showers calm,
thence to May: unfolds green fragrant warmth,
blossoms in full array, Springs dances done,  
the unspoken vow that Summer comes.
Renewal, regrowth, light airs of love,
reflect on resurrection of the Lord.  
Rebirth found in flowers, birds, the lamb,
as day extends as nights hold, duly falls,  
Oh, Spring, how you ease me to Summer's call.

To Spring     23rd February 2021
Michael C Crowder  @scorsby

Gainful rumbling tones,
grain crushed between grinding stones
gives grist to your mill.



Michael C Crowder @scorsby 1st March 2019

On darkening  red sky languish low clouds as if, smeared into existence by artists knife,
golden edged against clear red sky that transitions, upward to darker cover, void of light.
Horizon formed by railway bank black, sprout twig and bough silhouettes of bush and tree
still in winters mode, bud form begins, reach, mingling with  power lines gentle bow
in the the distance assemble birds seemingly in  motion slow, fly seeking places known,
their favorite safest roosts, whilst crying silently, seagulls solicit the close estuarys call.
Serenely and unusually silently a train glides into view, slowing, prepares  to halt
at the nearby serving station, clouds, now red edged emanate in windows of carriages long,
through moving frames the scene so pictured then - with the last carriage, gone.
The backdrops reds darken as the unseen sun sinks lower to adorn skies new
and so draws in the waiting night, escorting pinpoint stars, finally kissing the day adieu,
Laughably today, so called ‘happiness day,’  today, where tiny annoyances
grew into frustrated rage, conversation nettlesome, tension nerves to stressful result,
Mentally I accept the guilt for letting me, yes me - down, yes - it is my fault.
Still, a scene like this.... calms my reality within, even so, the self incriminating roundabout
slowly, restarts again the anger of - my - self created weaknesses and futility.
Thankfully this darkening sky creates a serene oneness in which retire I,
the placid evening, now early night, calmness returns connecting me with this aspect .
regardless of this view a day indifferent, tomorrow maybe be a better prospect.

Spring Equinox Evening                Michael C Crowder 21st March 2019

Moon phases agree,
apogee to perigee,
precept time and seas.



Moon   (Haiku)
Michael C Crowder  @scorsby      18th March 2019

Rainbows for chasing,
the moon for the aiming,
forming in clouds, faces
for inspiration,
beckoning, is life ahead
full of credible opportunity,
beside empty promises creating,
truthful reality.
Standing tall, girding *****
I, reached for the unreachable
so - distantly close,  impulsive forward, surges.
without doubt,
or plan,
missing by the - conceivably smallest,
actually - furthest amount,
yet still moving through,
pushing the immovable, climbing
the inaccessible,
falling - frequently,
never reaching nethermost depth,
buoyed by a recognition,
realising - all this fighting - striving
failing - miserably,
doing it all - wrong,
was not failure, but a justified lesson
on coping in the mire of existence.
The rainbows beauty explained in science,
gives it simplicity. A reality water and sunlight,
nothing really to chase,
or catch.
Moon - oh moon - my most favourite, still my dreamstone,
is but a stark beautiful presence,
removing sunlight reveals a satellite bleak,
nothing is here to seek,
or take aim,
likewise our cloud perceived faces,
expectations are best - unexpected.
If controlled by endeavour and aquasition
disappointment may be somewhat - repositioned,
attainment of skills formerly devoid of utilisation
revived, re-given to make something, that in truth,
can be ameliorated.
if only to yours truly
.
Still Chasing Rainbows . Michael C Crowder 10th March 2019 @scorsby

Thunder rolled deeply on the morning as the baby boy arrived,
his father typically absent  his mother she wasn't surprised.
Early days were troublesome for a single mother to provide  
a home, somewhere that was safe and retain some dignity and pride.
The child grew in hardship, in his mother's eyes he saw inner pain,
he often heard his mother weeping and hang her head in shame.

They survived, and into an average youth he learned and he grew,
not so different  to others because, his dad, he never knew.
Early teens, he began leaving his concerned mother home alone,
with bravado hanging around places, with kids he didn't know,
from their dark influences, tricks he learnt well, in guile he was trained,
powerless to change his ways, his  mother hangs her head in shame.

Attitudes hardened, he became devious, now almost a man,
so involved he became leader of his own pointless, wilful gang.
One night attempting thievery from a store, they almost were caught,
it's not their manor, they can't avoid the local gang, so they fought,
midst fists - kicks - shouts most ran, but he was pinned against an alley wall
scared, choking, grabbed a bottle from a bin and made that bottle fall
mindlessly, again - again, smashing down on his opponent's head,
fleeing the from the scene, doesn't know the man on the ground is, dead.
his gang has gone, his escape is now blocked by shadows of a group
open arms he walked toward them he's unsure of what he should do
he's encircled,  the streetlight reflects each drawn blades dull deadly flame,
and later that night, his mother hangs her head in grief and shame

Michael C Crowder
Hangs Her Head In Shame (rewrite of my 1978 song Samuel)

Relax, begin to Imagine you are in the proximity
to immerse yourself into a precious moment.
It is that needed time you have brought into being, and is intrinsic
to experience composure, equanimity.
Smooth - melodic - ambient music with simple cause,
low and soft will, in its incipiency invalidate
trending previous troublesome thoughts,
silkily, sauntering, lingeringly pauses,
to softly embrace your audible senses
with silence which conveys complete assurance,
that the here and now is yours, no-one elses,
ataraxia created by you, for your true inner self,
It continues; envelops remaining unsettled interruption
embraces the heart, and encourages serenity,
all the remaining negative, solicitous intellection
are temporarily, tipped out of your consciousness,
you are experiencing them leave, then transcended
with blissful tranquillity for your indulgence.
You are asleep with your eyes open, it feels so benefic,
the mind is calm and clear no longer confused.
Melodious sound continues to provide atmospheric
momentum to this sensibility folding into the soul.
Joyfully you are enduring moments of pure inner solitude and
wrapped in perfect peace, consciousness uncommitted.
There is no expectation of time, not at all
just the psyche drifting, changing shape, density, profundity.
You feel wonderfully restituted, calmed; uplifted.
You sense it, knowing, this absence of tension you sought,
this, your perfect you, is transient and will slowly begin to regress, reluctantly,
relinquishing this blissfully serene, conditioned emotional stillness, to be restored.

Then you turn the telly on!     All gone.

Michael C Crowder        March 5th 2019

Unwittingly and surprisingly so often ignored is appreciation.
Of gifts, the love, the nurture received, given in true benefaction.
Even lack of spoken gratitude from the receiver, by the giver it is perceived.
Accordingly that which is given and is conspicuously wordlessly received
from the recipient, bathed in sublime silence, shines the appreciativeness

When physical attraction evolves into the love for each other entirely,
overwhelmed with gratitude for feelings, passion, desire, intrinsic sensuality.
In carnal gratification intertwined lovers, murmur words the moment in time set
as the act of true love, lovers appreciation of each other is a prerequisite,
kindling their deep and profound recognition of the symbiotic enchantment

Individuals have so much in life for which to celebrate in thankfulness
Taken for granted are emotional feelings of those who daily acquiesce.
Actions, items the mundane, all forgotten overlooked values unconsidered,
A list almost without end, descriptions of conceded gratitude left unsaid,
until its familiar benefits cease, revealing immediate impact of gratitude held concealed.



The Quality Feeling Of Thankful         Michael C Crowder         30th December 2018

Through voracious eyes devotees, peruse writings, clever literature all styled to thoughtful poetic ways
eloquently, exposing wounds of body and soul, discovered distrust, anger much regret, sadly even fear,
thereto shortcomings in life, of people, their actions, loves and lies promulgated in illuminating phrase.
Technology endows contributors with outlets for venting suchlike occasions using artistry is here.

Passionate poignant experiences most well written, some not are duly shared to attracted communal eyes.
declarations of 'I have cared so much I'm wounded mortally', some bask in lost or unrequited loves last kiss,
several employ inner strength 'whatever happened, I don't care, I'm resilient, I survive', shared with poetic pride
concise verses rework obvious reminders, may motivate suggestion that opportunity shouldn't be missed.

Modest words abundantly profound begin remarks that reassures, with the - I'm here for yous'- symbolic embrace,
in support it is written, 'I know what you mean' and from a great distance - empathise, but I have little to say.
Health issues aren't fixed by artistic pennings, only face to face professional advice forms the strongest base,
Writings from the poetic inner self  may become positive steps, for futures not, staring in depressions face.

Much is written with sensitivity oft-times is judged by content, overlooked is why and how it is composed.
For instance suicide  educes fear however. dubiety invites, is it fiction or truly despair?
Writing as an art observes, describes, creates imagery, of sadness and joy, escapism, fictional or no.
Poetic creators who web-wide commune through stories, thoughts, secrets, ideas, dreams, let the poetry be shared .




Poetry www    Michael C Crowder 12th  January 2019 @scorsby

Move on, it is time,
hurts heal best, if left behind.
Relief you shall find

Michael C Crowder 18th February 2019
@scorsby

Through the miracle of meteorology, up high - little by little
parts of me was made, without form within a clouds middle,
and eventually, formed in unique designs, lighter than feathers,
temperature and water work together to produce, a period of weather.
When shapes, never repeated - but in approximation, begin to fall, as snow,
feasibly forecasted, sometimes not so, down on to the surface below.
And so as blanket laid, across town and countryside, fields and city mews,
changing the familiar, smoothing contours, into new landscape views.
The material soft, white glistening snow so miraculously delivered,
at earliest opportunity is introduced to excited shouts, laughter, and shivers.
Fittingly gathered by adult and children's hand, with the goal - to build a man.
midst joyful sounds, travellers moans and snowball fights, the creators plan,
By rolled ball pile and heaped snow I was born, created by many in several places,
some small and really, lovingly made. Others large with various, curious, hats and faces.
All - to stand appreciatively of of the makers time, to create me and proudly put on show.
Winter feeds our lifetime span with cold wind, colder nights and, temperatures low,
we stand as white statuary, where children play, soon - will come the expected day
a thaw, will take our sustainability of cool, and so little by little I, and others go away,
with saddened countenance creators watch as we bend, wither and slouch,
stoically accepting this is, as is. Snowy days will return, snowmen too, I can vouch.
It’s a happy sadness for snowman builders and snowmen too, who together
wait in anticipation for fun and creativity, the joyful side of snowy weather.

From a Snowman
Michael C Crowder 23rd January 2019

Hold your nerve despite
Decisions, may change your life.
Be sure it feels right.

Each year comes to close
Plans goals hopes, so many missed
New Year without those.


Michael C Crowder @scorsby

Often in darkness she approaches
predominantly men, seeking fun
soon as they speak, she already knows.
She's a professional and it shows.
Astute to what some men can't resist
moving as she does, her allure grows,
her trade perfected through many years.
She's a professional and it shows.
She's a priestess of many pleasures,
in particularly, of the flesh,
her ****** curves men long to own.
She's a professional and it shows.
She's a dispenser of sensations,
performing she fulfills buyers hopes,
a willing taker of hard earned pay.
She's a professional and it shows.
She can be a ten minute lover,
or can be rented by the hour,
it's just how far their money will go.
She's a professional and it shows.
Characters half clothed, or in leather
in all styles, she will easily cope,
she can give pleasure now on the phone.
She's a professional and it shows
She's a professional and it shows,
she has assumed the name of Honey,
buyers pay to love her for a while,
meantime she loves to take their money.
She will deliver all paid delights
desires of buyers, she well knows,
often called Predator of the night.
She's a professional and it shows.

Professional Lady
Michael C Crowder January 24th 1978

If only we could begin again and slow down the pernicious pace
We ruin our oceans, the land, our air even outer space.
If only we avoided such precarious paths that may lead to disparity
If only we knew what action is needed now, to deal with the reality.
Ecologists warned, yet still observe with ever-growing anxiety
the growth of harmful long-term effects on Earth's biodiversity.
If only the air wasn't gravely polluted, so the atmosphere begins to fail,
so wreathed by carbon dioxide layers, extremes to climate may prevail.
If only Earth's lungs cease being shrunk by profits heedless exploitation,
existing relationships are considered scarcely in these aberrations.
If only a solution for discarded synthetics which float in ugly hordes
on oceans global drifts, disaster occurs wherever it reaches landfall.
If only we can do something, a belated but resounding universal call,
If only we can safeguard the future before there are no options at all.
If only we could begin again and slow the ruinous pace... if only

If Only

M C Crowder
@scorsby
19th November 2018