Tidal

May 23, 2020nature, poem, Poetrynature, Ocean, poem, poetry, tideThe Cheesesellers Wife

Sweeping in, crusading up the rocks
twice daily washing in and washing away
many things meet in tidal waters
life burgeons, death waits the trapped
tides take the lands edge in sweet embrace
then leave like a lover spurned
ebb and flow, ebb and flow, there and back

Friday Poem: If I walked straight slap

May 22, 2020Friday Poem, poem, PoetryFriday Poem, Ivor Gurney, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

If I walked straight slap
Headlong down the road
Toward the two-wood gap
Should I hit that cloud?

by Ivor Gurney

This poem was left on my office door by a colleague many years (and jobs) ago. It led to me discovering the wonderful poetry of Ivor Gurney.

My poem ‘Dryad’ is published at Nine Muses Poetry

May 21, 2020Poetrydryad, poem, poetry, published poem, treesThe Cheesesellers Wife

I’m delighted to tell you that my poem ‘Dryad’ has been published today at Nine Muses Poetry

https://ninemusespoetry.com/

Thank you to John Looker for his poem that put dryads in my thoughts as I saw this particular poetry challenge! My poem is a response to the painting shown below and is part of the May Challenge at Nine Muses.

Truth like glass

May 20, 2020Life, philosophy, poem, Poetryphilosophy, poem, poetry, truthThe Cheesesellers Wife

In Inspiration’s furnace
Poets work and strive
To create a Truth like glass
Clear, transforming
A window to other.

Octopi

May 16, 2020Life, nature, poem, Poetry, Wales, Wild lifebeach, environment, nature, octopus, poem, poetry, stranding, Wales, wildlifeThe Cheesesellers Wife

In tidal pools with their
time melted crab shells and
dribs and drabs of bright green seaweed
are many octopi
legs self entangled
magenta skin turning sweet rose
in sunny waters

It needs gentle prods with a
boot toe to confirm death
so fresh they look
no one else walking the busy
windswept beach seems
to notice or care

In one pool
a larger octopus is beached
as if trying to crawl
to escape back to the estuary
her tentacle tip touching
a bluegray pebble in supplication

Friday Poem: Timothy Winters

May 15, 2020children, Friday Poem, poem, PoetryCharles Causley, childhood, children, Friday Poem, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

Timothy Winters comes to school
With eyes as wide as a football-pool,
Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:
A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.

His belly is white, his neck is dark,
And his hair is an exclamation-mark.
His clothes are enough to scare a crow
And through his britches the blue winds blow.

When teacher talks he won’t hear a word
And he shoots down dead the arithmetic-bird,
He licks the pattern off his plate
And he’s not even heard of the Welfare State.

Timothy Winters has bloody feet
And he lives in a house on Suez Street,
He sleeps in a sack on the kithen floor
And they say there aren’t boys like him anymore.

Old Man Winters likes his beer
And his missus ran off with a bombardier,
Grandma sits in the grate with a gin
And Timothy’s dosed with an aspirin.

The welfare Worker lies awake
But the law’s as tricky as a ten-foot snake,
So Timothy Winters drinks his cup
And slowly goes on growing up.

At Morning Prayers the Master helves
for children less fortunate than ourselves,
And the loudest response in the room is when
Timothy Winters roars “Amen!”

So come one angel, come on ten
Timothy Winters says “Amen
Amen amen amen amen.”
Timothy Winters, Lord. Amen

by Charles Causley

This poem is in a poetry book I bought for my children when young. It made them cry, but they loved it. They each knew a “Timothy”, I’m sad to say……

Wet street at midnight

May 13, 2020Life, poem, Poetrycolour, Life, poem, poetry, streetThe Cheesesellers Wife

Streetlights reflect brightly
in gutterside puddles

stars peek out from between
moonsilvered clouds

the Moon himself
loiters on high

parked cars gleam wetly
drip softly

as do dying leaves
on each street tree

what is the colour
of a wet street at midnight?

Tempered

May 9, 2020Life, poem, Poetrychange, lockdown, philosophy, poem, poetryThe Cheesesellers Wife

We have stopped and time
stretches, strains at the leash
pulling us back to where we left off

Look at the illusions we had
lay them bare, strip them of potency
think rather than fear

Do you really need to rush back
or can you move on
tempered, like steel?

Friday Poem: Days by Orhan Veli Kanık

May 8, 2020Fantasy, Life, poem, PoetryGuest poem, Istanbul, Orhan Veli Kanik, poem, poetry, TurkishThe Cheesesellers Wife

There are days, I gather myself and leave,
In the smell of nets freshly hauled from the sea
Taking flight on the path of gulls
Drifting from one island to another.

There are unimaginable worlds,
Flowers open, erupt in noise,
Smoke bursts noisily from the earth.

But the seagulls, the seagulls,
Each feather bristling with haste!

There are days, blue all over me.
There are days, sunlight all over me.
There are days, delirious days . . .

by Orhan Veli Kanik

translated by George Messo

Rather than from one of my poetry books, this week I have a Turkish poem from Leonard Durso’s glorious website leonarddurso.com

Skins of memory

May 6, 2020art, Life, poem, Poetrymemory, poem, poetry, rememberanceThe Cheesesellers Wife

The skins of memory
stretched across drums
vibrate with feeling