as I run along freely in the meadows of sorrow grown with sweet misery as the moonlight surpasses the sun and i wait for the return of the morning i sit by the lake of forgotten wishes while the dragonflies shine brightly along with the moonlight as the lily pads glide along across the lake as I catch the breaths I take while the sounds of quiet calm my mind soothingly i recall the scenes of my dreams haunted fantasies of you reappear and then i vanish and eventually disappear
Brushing calm shadows into pastel hills. A rhythm paints terrain a sugary brown. Flicks of green create fauliage serene. The clean tasteless air is cotton soft. A effortless stream runs cobalt clear. Where salmon gymnastics begin each year. Squirrels practice dance routines a glamorous red. The doormice dressed and ready for bed.
Continuing coverage on Ch4.
The perch, the tench sat together on an underwater bench. Discussing bait and hooks whilst flicking through some fishing books. What's he eating? Mr Mole, it looks like cheese and ham on a soft brown roll. There's a chicken and a fox that live round here. Seriously, they've been dating each other for about a year. Now, if you take the next left, then over the stye. There's a duck lives there and he's got a glass eye.
Poetry by Kaydee.
Poetry by Kaydee present what is believed to be a creative first. One story, one habitat, one poem giving you the viewer, two different narratives. Now here's another twist because instead of you, the reader, reading a poem in the traditional way. We handed our work straight to two television broadcasters and they have each made a program exactly as they wanted with no constraints. Showcasing two well known broadcasters with polar opposite styles. Poetry by Kaydee presents to you 'The Meadow'. We take up the story with BBC2 before switching over to CH4. Will you notice a change of style as we go from the 'high brow' production of the BBC to a more laid back, social media type of production from Channel 4.
like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after) with a nauseating hack the previously uneventful Tuesday derailed in surrealistic tale with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate) in the 748 on a night flight from Sherwood to Lore
reverberating waves of imminent summer haze river flats and flower fields fly weights and silver bait shredders and shysters and open gates (into those everlasting and sweated journeys of hope)
bloods and strays and florentine grays (reminiscent of Rockwell fame) running horses and overgrown country lanes morning grace and gentle cheer eyes clear on the river pass blunted paddles for those ancient and not so willing suckers!
duke making his own way (to the corner club) Parsons and Poe stream from the torn screen door cricket cadence and symphony of the Deere calm and deliberate in the soft and silent fields
meadows open for grazing (guineas scamper across the till) pocket apples fill the country ripe air drunken bees and chestnuts and electric fingers strike the surface pool (a cedar ***** wedged on the white wash dock)
baited bull heads set to cast evenings with hearts and Nolten Nash may flowers bloom across the grass ~ time unmatched ~ with blue jays and river bends and channel cats ...and that warm and recurring Coleman drift
What I visioned was warmed steel winds - brilliant soft glow crystal Autumn light at the center of the heart the rush of slow rains pulled away from its quartzed source to let dance a sacred stray away from the lucent **** born herself to those turned monuments in our memory an echo - the innocent born from the energy of a new Spring - quenched of a natural thirst allowing a climb like ascending fire dust from logs spent in the night - Electric light.
What I found was that glow but distant the Autumn light absent its blare The innocent echo dulled because it was the idea that was the love affair - not Electric - but Citrine light like deserts - magnetic to view yet ambitious to live The quite crescent of ocean absent the meld of sunned foamed height - A liquid soar or beiged meadows the slightly felled allure of Sycamore.
Today the sun was not found only rain upon these meadows. Thistle grew, poking through black clouds of nightfall. Dark wingless bird, shadow of stillness in the quiet stars, so long ago forgiveness and will it come, soon the dawn, a day to breathe deeply lunged or fly away these days born of green ancient as a forest?
i am a sunny sky when you need an umbrella and i am the morning frost when you pray for summertime i am the crashing waves when you rest in the meadows i am the moon to your meteor shower and maybe i will know you one more time
she loved thunder storms most of all the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky the shear immensity of power she always thought it was him her beloved God big boy Thor with his flowing blond hair blue aquatic eyes washboard stomach and delicately curved ***** finally a man good enough for her even if he was fly by night
when the heavens thickened gray like soggy cotton she could feel atmospheres shift it made her ******* pert her mouth would salivate like a lurid peach her ***** swelled and dampened tears of adoration and enchantment filled her eyes
no longer able to contain her self she would ***** ***** fling off her ******* and run out to the lush verdant meadows calling at the top of her lungs yoooooooooo hooooooooooo
as the cool rain descended she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes seeing great claws of white lightening echo through the sky
without hesitation she fell to the cool earth beneath her wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze positioning her self on all fours head thrown back *** up high calling to the heavens come on, come on big boy ive been waiting for you let me have it good her clitoral lips drooled with anticipation her ****** a pulsating aching
the sky rumbled with stretching streaks of fire like a great freight train spanning infinity while the earth shook like a hollow moon she swayed her hips rhythmically to and fro whispering a love song
oh sir i need a man like you wont you love me adorations true
i kneel before my sweet Lord Thor where's that hammer come on and score
you are so big and im so little how about it God just a tickle
hit it now give it to me good kisses baby like you only could
tears of desire cascaded down her pink cheeks as she recited her love mantra her mouth ***** wet
suddenly a great bolt of lightening shot down from heavens throne entering her ****** splitting her in flames her head turned dark mahogany sent careening fifty yards leaving her mouth a yawning twisted smudge of fossilized obsidian with eyes blackened flaring hollows
her tender pink **** a chard flower smoldering like a petite grilled calamari
The essence of love Runs atop pillars of space Anticipating to transform The oblivious by-standers Into inflicters of righteous pain The pain that will set free The reins of resistence, Foreshadowing portals Of everlasting beattitude. The songs have all been sung Yet not one has been able To surpass the nightingale's Who spins the sweetest darkness Without a tinge of temptation. The rhythms that fall upon thee Speak eons of platitude Of pedestrian coronation Of revelation devised Where the upshot is Synchronized syndrom That eats away the spirit Like canker. The flow of love Is not a smooth ride Like a luxury car on open road Love's code is candor That suffocates without killing To reveal the lofty window Toward unearthly meadows.
Blazing life sets my soul on fire All white clouds and green meadows I can’t help but stare now I haven’t a care now And darling, we can breathe, finally Set myself lose, run me dizzy Let me live and let me die Here I stay, forget me not While I grasp tightly to this sweet lie.
Every morning she went out for a walk To find where the fallow meadows swept And one bright clover peeped its head In the foliage of wild leaf and green grass.
This part of the day was the beginning of joy As far as she could look back and see her way The lovely land dew wet on the leather shoes And little Alfie to remember passing his way.
Love Mary ***
This poem was inspired by my dear friend Pam’s morning walks And thé photos she shared with me . Little Alfie was her baby grandson who died at two hours old and Some of the walk take her past his little headstone