"scorsby" poems
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
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 12:00 PM UTC
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
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 9:16 AM UTC
Before her the open laptop stares
At settled coffee shop young lady
smart appearance nice hair.
Phone close, to hand for just maybe.
nowhere in particular she looks here and there,
as she shares short glances between
coffee shop phone and screen,
An image created of controlled serenity,
around her the tidal increase of customers ebb and flow.
Laptop screen, a document shines out, I'm here.
Momentarily her phone blinks me too
then returns to outward inactivity.
An embryo smile flickers, perhaps a thought
of the fleeting communication, perhaps not,
voices sway back and forth then, spike of a laugh
quickly swallowed by the ambience to give way
to hisses, gurgles of music coffee machines play.
Young men perch and slouch in fervent conversation
They leave, talking, passing Dad with daughters so pleased
when discovering window side seats, wait in anticipation,
where delivers Dad , then into newspaper immerses.
Girls silently survey the scene, hot chocolate cupped
shortly paper closes, a look, chocolate speedily drunk
to join dads exit swift, wordless and abrupt
past headphoned staff in crockery recovery.
Incessantly tables change coffee treats enjoyed again,
The coffee shop laptop lady alone but not lonely
chooses to be, just maybe, happy in her own skin.
scorsby
MICHAEL C CROWDER 1st January 2019
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 8:29 AM UTC
Sleep - Oh my dear friend why do you hide
midst the turbulent brooding that twist
and tumble within my fatigued mind?.
Come, let slumber kiss my heavy eyes,
whilst Luna roves the scene Nox has spread,
waken for me Somnus from his bed
to still thoughts and words erratic chase,
till Morpheus dreams then takes their place:
thence to grant me slumbers precious peace,
Come - settle my mind: Please - let me sleep.
3.30AM ©Michael C Crowder @scorsby
15th February 2021
May 3, 2023
May 3, 2023 at 10:50 AM UTC
Is it possibly, strange believing,
you’re somewhere else but, still here,
Not physically close by but a feeling
Is it reassurance - perhaps a safety tier
a presence somewhat instinctive around me.
I speak to you, didn't always do,
not commonplace between us, conversation:
sometimes there'd be an answer, from your perspective.
Whenever now I question my determination,
a moments ponder- what might have you selected.
Character of courage and trust: ruled by fairness.
Silent belief - dignified and true,
moral sensitivities caring and kindness
None, ever, placed prominently on view,
just waiting behind your shield, for careful use in crisis.
Solitary - not seemingly lonesome but quiet,
yet, when needed around to convey
considered words, and sturdy hands to guide.
You wisely put to use, new skills, knowledge learnt,
supporting the family if required from day to day.
in thoughts is where your lingering presence exists
reminds, so much still to learn – that’s why
your story, the about you, we will want to hear,
absent physically - true, yet in thoughts indeed they persist,
You never left completely Dad, you’re still here.
You Are..
Michael C Crowder @scorsby Friday, March 8, 2019
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC
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
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
Responding to the sunny afternoon,
curtains, breathe in and out of the room,
for a moment I lay, I rest my eyes
and listen to neighbours DIY,
and children's voices lifting stream
playing on joy giving trampoline,
indistinct not much clearer,
are voices somewhat nearer
which, discuss matters of no alarm,
laughter adds to its charm.
Even trains pass at a slower pace,
like the breeze, without clouds to chase.
A magpie's chatter, doves return coo,
and a wood pidgeon joins in too.
Dreamily, creep reminiscences.
Times, difficult to dismiss,
all the ways, perhaps I would
have changed prospects, if I could
have sorted things, when I should.
Still it's not bad, nor is it good.
I just turn away, and let them fall
the past cannot be changed at all,
dismissing them, behind closed eyes.
De stress, maximised,
my negative thoughts, who cares.
Feeling so relaxed, is for me rare,
a difference todays sun had made,
and it's one I so gladly take.
Afternoon
21st April 2020 Michael C Crowder @scorsby
Aug 17, 2024
Aug 17, 2024 at 12:01 PM UTC
Move on, it is time,
hurts heal best, if left behind.
Relief you shall find
Michael C Crowder 18th February 2019
@scorsby
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Each year comes to close
Plans goals hopes, so many missed
New Year without those.
Michael C Crowder @scorsby
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 9:54 AM UTC
Moon phases agree,
apogee to perigee,
precept time and seas.
Moon (Haiku)
Michael C Crowder @scorsby 18th March 2019
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
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
May 3, 2023
May 3, 2023 at 7:58 AM UTC
Lying so close to you... my love.... my life
I feel your warmth, see your smooth skin
in moonlights glow....cast over silken sheet,
defines in subtle shadows pale light,
partially veiled..... your sensuous form,
fractional to your captivating...wholeness.
So I..rapt within your especial fragrance,
the very essence of you, that my indulgence is, so drawn.
I regard your soft, gentle, calm breathing,
for me beautiful, nocturnal music, sweet,
written by you, for this, hedonistic night.
Such treasures are future memories, seeding.
I long to wake you, to hold, to love you... be complete.
So enthralled am I, watching you sleeping
your dark hair frames the face I cherish,
as you stir the motion slightly slides the sheet.
your thigh, back, shoulder, the silver moons gleam
exposes your appealing femininity
evoking your caring personality,
you are moving.. sinuously.... towards me,
midst soft murmuring...eventually,
bodies in coalescence curl serenely.
I softly rest my head against your shoulder,
kissing your neck, I caress your breast.. gently,
your warm smooth skin... tenderly moving downwards
slowly you turn facing me, our eyes meet... to betray
a tiny smile from the lips I will kiss... and kiss,
is the silent signal between us.... intimacy assured.
Pushing away the covers, we fondly embrace,
and so aroused, we, as lovers, experience a consensual excursion
towards effecting the ultimate... ecstasy,
fuelled not by - carnal impulse or lust - but along with grace,
an unconditional... true love and mutual desire.
In Love In Memories
Michael C Crowder January 19th 2019 @scorsby
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 3:28 PM UTC
Gainful rumbling tones,
grain crushed between grinding stones
gives grist to your mill.
Michael C Crowder @scorsby 1st March 2019
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
I think my heart is on the end of one string
guided much like a yo-yo toy, dangling.
Up and down that prevalent emotions bring,
Upward for passion, love, joy and affection
Downward in sadness, pity and compassion
insightfully, holds place if sensed doubt or fear.
True strings, the hearts tendons, ensure its function
where muscle and valve labour through connection
keeping life's system robust, hearty and hale
But the perceptive unseen strings, felt each day
so often to be tugged, softened, snapped and played
best of all is when one, or several of mine
resonate in tune, when in concert with thine.
Heartstrings Michael C Crowder @scorsby
10th February 2021
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 1:03 PM UTC