Poetry Blog by afishamongmany

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Recent Comments

Ruth O'Reilly on A Christmas Cat (9 days ago)

Don Matthews on A Christmas Cat (9 days ago)

afishamongmany on The Enemy (Thu, 28 Nov 2019 05:55 pm)

poemagraphic on The Enemy (Wed, 27 Nov 2019 08:47 pm)

afishamongmany on Faces (Wed, 27 Nov 2019 07:57 pm)

Hamzah Aslam on Faces (Tue, 26 Nov 2019 10:01 pm)

Don Matthews on Faces (Tue, 26 Nov 2019 09:24 pm)

poemagraphic on Faces (Tue, 26 Nov 2019 08:24 pm)

afishamongmany on Faces (Mon, 25 Nov 2019 09:33 pm)

Don Matthews on Faces (Mon, 25 Nov 2019 07:20 am)

Christmas Songs

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Together let us gather to sing the Christmas songs.
Let us open hearts to strangers, together we belong.
Let us kneel with kings and shepherds upon this strawy earth.
Let us sing with joy, and worship He who gives the second birth.

Never mind the hustle bustle, the clamour all around.
Let us gather us to worship and sing the joyful sound.
Lay aside your daily woes and the heaviness of life.
...

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carolsjoysingingworship

A Christmas Cat

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Cool cat sat on the cold snow.

Coal black cat, Cheshire Cat grin,

Looking up to see within.

White flakes floating down, carpeting, covering all around.

Snow can cover such a multitude of sins.

 

Cool cat sat on the white mat,

Softly he began to hum a song.

He though of his lost love long gone

Over the seas to nonsense land.

There no snow but always winter,

...

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black catcheshire catchristmassnowwonderland

The Enemy

All around us and within.

Ever with us, birthed by sin.

All embracing, cold finger tracing

A line we all must cross.

 

All around us and within,

To ignore it that is sin.

Ever with us, all consuming,

Looming, looming ever looming.

 

Do you laugh and deride it?

Do you fear but try to hide it?

Is it in your calculations,

Figured out, accounted for?

 

Is i...

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deliveredlife and death

Faces

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I saw before me faces float
White to black they passed by rote
They mouthed their words, they smiled their smiles
As shadow passed across the dial.

Saw I too their souls aslumber
Each one written with a number
They dreamed their dreams, they made their plans
As trickled through the glass the sands.

Saw I a scavenging lion come
To take their bodies one by one
He roared his roar, he paced ...

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faceshourglasslionssundial

What to say? What to do?

People are anguished and perplexed.

The sea and the waves roar.

Men's hearts are filled with fear,

Wondering what is coming next.

 

What to say? What to do?

What to do? What to say?

 

'We must unite', earnest faces announce.

'We must incite', troublemakers grin grim.

'We shall not be moved', grey haired hippies sing

Then sheepishly they rush to shop

Be...

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injusticejudgementthe end of the world

The Peoples Song

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Come let us sing the peoples song,

We'll chant it as we march along.

A new world order has come in,

So people, Dance and sing.

So people, Dance and sing.

 

Wave your banners against the skies.

Shout slogans that mesmerize.

The people are one!

The people want fun!

They want someone to idolize.

They want someone to idolize.

 

When the peoples choice ...

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change the worlddemonstrationshuman rightsprotests

Meadow Reflecting - A Villanelle by Road Runner 3

Though paucity of spirit plagues my steps,

And load of daily lifting breaks my back,

Her scent upon the meadow fills me yet.

 

Immersed in somber cycles that beset,

I strain to ascertain that higher track,

Though paucity of spirit plagues my steps.

 

It seems the chill of age, its frosty heft,

Does hound my soul while I resist the pack,

Her scent upon the mead...

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endurenceFather Godmeadow's scentMother Earthpatience

Leaves

LeAvEs
How they have fallen,
Laying thick,
Pressing the jostling grass
Under them.
Obliterating it from sight.
Their browns and yellows brighter
Than the grey above.
Achieving a moment of glory,
In death a dominance.
Looking up to freed branches
Framing veiled light,
Had they thought to fly,
Letting go their source of life?
How they have fallen!

><>

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autumncoloursfallfreedomgloryleaves

Party Time

A fiery clown has come down

Over forests, lanes and towns.

No trumpets blown, no drums rolled,

Out of the morning mists he strolled.

 

Yello! Yello! It's party-time!,

He smiled. His reds and golds he sprayed around.

And God's whole house was swathed with hues untold.

All about the orange glowed, crimson leaves displayed.

 

The ceiling now was light with blue.

...

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autumnclowncolourfallleaves

Decisions! Decisions!

If I meet a stranger in the way and he asked me for my name,

Should I tell him with a sad sad smile that we are all the same?

When a ravenous roaring lion comes hurtling down the street,

Should I stand my ground a trembling and sweep him off his furry feet?

If our pearls of wisdom scatter, strewn askew on stony ground,

Should we weep and wail, O woe is me!, or act like are fool...

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clownsdecisionshedgehogslionspearlsstrangers

Long Days Disapearing

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When summer turned to autumn

It took me by surprise.

It made me feel so sad.

It made me feel so wise,

To smell the fallen leaves

On the misty morning air,

To think of coming winter

And not to really care.

 

There's a beauty and a sweetness

In the dying of the year.

There's a mellowing completeness

As the long days disappear.

There's a turning, tur...

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autumnharvestmorning airroots

A Conversation

God said, Be good.

Man said, I should.

God said, You can't.

Man said, So I shan't.

God said, You'll learn.

Man said, You're stern.

God said, If not stern

How would you learn?

Could you ever pay the fee

To live with me

And be, for good?

 

God said, Be true.

Man said, I will.

God said, You won't.

Man said, I'll mount.

God said, You'll fall.

Man said...

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converstationGodman

Squat Frogs

 Our thoughts are squat frogs sploshing around in the foggy marsh of our minds. A croak here, a croak there, then they disappear into murkiness plopping up later, random and undetermined to splosh and croak some more.

Oh! that they were leaping salmon heading up through swirls and rocky torrents, progressing against currents and foam; the fish and river sparkling in the sun. Achieving at last ...

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frogsmarshmetamorphosisthoughtstorrents

The Plains of Babylon

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They gather on the plains of Babylon.

“It's party-time dear friends!”, the invite reads.

“Let's shake it down and cross the Rubicon.”

“A stairway up to heaven is our need.”

The plots they thicken, artful plans are honed.

They build their zigurrat to breach the blue.

Bizarre bed-fellows meet and greet, combine

In shifting shapes to overthrow the throne.

“Rise up! Throw down...

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angelsBabylonrebelsRubiconzigurrat

(Remembering The Screwtape Letters by C.S.Lewis) Urgent Memo from High Command

His Most High, Excellent Awfulness, Lord of the Winged Hordes

Reminds all viceroys, manipulators and controllers

That we are at war!

The coming invasion will fail for we are everywhere.

Darkness covers the earth, complete domination is near.

Fear Me with full awe!

For My reward for failure is excruciating pain,

So make very sure My reign extends and deepens all unseen

Till ...

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awarenessC;S;Lewiscontrolmanipulatorsspiritual warfare

Dogs and Decadence

The old man stood, hands on hips, looking around the yard. He saw someone across the yard waving and recognized Remy's bushy gray beard. Remy and Eloise were sat chatting with Steve and Jenny. The old man went over and joined them. He sank down into the white leather sofa. Each of the couples had their own sofas. The sofas, like the awning over them, had all seen better days but oh what luxurious,...

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booksdogshaibunhomemade cakesMau Mau

Spectator? Participator? Instigator?

The old man sat on the terrace his eyes closed. The throbbing purr of the mini-digger sounded like some very large, contented lion. Rob the driver was telling Jake the plumber, who was in the trench, to saw through the large root from the acacia tree that was stopping the digger scooping out more trench. The old man opened his eyes and saw his friend Dave, owner of terrace and trench, holding out ...

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earthhaibunmovementpurpose

New Buds

The old man stepped out into the garden and stood in the sunshine. Warm, yes, but not too warm to work. He collected the battered barrow from the shed. In it a kneeler and a bucket containing gloves, a trowel and secateurs.

There had been five weeks without significant rain and at the end temperatures had been up in the mid to high thirties. Now, after some good downpours, the garden was just ...

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gardenhaibunsunshinework

In the Red

I'm almost spent yet all I've bought

With all these days of walk and talk

Seems not enough to justify

The toilsome years that have gone by.


 

One thing at least of lasting worth,

Have I found in this much turned earth.

A precious stone with lustrous sheen.

It shines to show what is unseen.


 

It cost me naught though priceless is.

Its beauty to me courage gives...

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account paidlasting worthprecious stone

And There Was

Let there be water.

Let it be called pond.

Let trunk and branch and leaf arise around it,

Walling the sky’s mirror against too much.

Let small plump birds paddle its silk surface,

Their calls echoing ancient creation.

Let stiff winged things fly and dart about

Above stiff legged things that skim

A criss cross the water’s top.

And let beneath flash silver through...

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creationfishingpondstoo much

That Gal Gladys

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Tongue Twisting Twaddle

This one is for Don M. who bemoans the lack of serendipity on WOL and would like to see a bit more frippery.

That Gal Gladys

Could it be we take ourselves too seriously?

Maybe our pomp possy posing needs a little pricking, A little snacker snicking?

As Twiddly Thumb said to Twiddly Toe,

“That gal Gladys wuz really weird. Wherever did she go?”

“Ye...

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cheshire cathares and hattersnonsensetardis

Travelers All Are We (villanelle)

Is God with you, dear soul? Are you with Him?

In mazes, mists and twists of this life's track,

Who shows the way and guides your steps there in?

 

Go you solo, on your own, will and whim?

Hid you in the herd? Run you with the pack?

Is God with you, dear soul? Are you with Him?

 

Without a guide thick shadowed woods are grim.

To find the path needs knowing that you...

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Godlife's journeypilgrimagevillanelle

No Star Was Seen

To You who art

To me, when I see

The made star night

Looming, enfolding,

Displacing the confusion

Of maps and charts.

A darkness that is as light

As the day when

The sweat and the blood

Tasted by a dying thief

Glistened, glistened, glistened,

While the hot sky

Darkened, darkened, darkened.

No star was seen

But looming,

Falling, falling, w...

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angerconfusionjusticenightstar

Drive-Through Movie

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They grow a lot of sunflowers around here and they have just started coming into flower. For the next three weeks or so we'll have the blessing of this drive-through movie.

 

Drive-Through Movie

 

The sunflowers are out, tilted up

To fluffy clouds, busy about

The royal blue sky.

The golden crowds applaud their busyness.

Golden hoards in green seas floating

Below the roya...

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colourlandscapepanoramasunflowers

What I Have

I am a Have and a lot I've got,

Not as much as many but

More than those who have not.

Riches may come, they will go.

Does the weight of my estate trouble,

Bow me low?

If I gave it all away

Then to The Father began to pray

Would he find my prayers more sweet

Because I begged upon the street?

What I have is mine until its gone.

Given, taken, found, lost,

...

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givinghaves and havenotspossesionsriches

Over the Hills and Far Away

One man went to mow his meadow

But when he got there he found

A machine had been and cut it clean

So instead of scything he sat down

And sighed for rabbit pie

Made from conies caught in the hedgerows

Hedgerows as old as the old ways

Which wend over hills and dales

Where little boy blue asleep in the hay

Was dreaming of metal monsters

That ate up little boys ...

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hayhedgerowslittle boy bluemeadows

It was not so

At the start it was not so

That we did know the stone to throw,

To kill the beasts and men like us,

To think it fine to strike the blow

That spread man's blood upon the dust.

 

How was it that death entered in?

Cruel killing, how did it begin?

Did not the Tree of Life stand there,

In God's garden where was no sin.

In God's garden where all was fair.

 

...

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God's gardenkillingpeacesinstonesThe Fathers lovewar

Imprisoned or Prism

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This poem is a response to Cynthia B.T's. polite polemic, Mind in a Cage.

https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=91731

I am grateful to her for having incited me to use my mind.

Imprisoned or Prism

Our mind is the eye

By which we see, or not, all worlds;

The humdrum, the yet to come,

The mathematical, the fantastical.

By which we perceive, or n...

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cagefreedomlightperceptionsprismrainbowreality

Thoughts about Thought

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Thought ought to be,

Pure, precise and princely.

Sadly, mostly,

It's a battered ball, but, bit, batted about,

Deformed - to conform - to today's haze.

Thus, inevitably, it's always somewhat crazed.

But still, thought ought to be.

So let me leave you with this one:

Where do yours come from?

 

A Definition

To think is

To sink into,

To link into,

...

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choosingconformingconfusionthinkingthoughts

The Brink of Time

Long ago and far away

Are the worlds of yesterday.

We stand upon the brink of time

Where shadows rule and blind leads blind.

Nations quake, the seas they rage,

What help now our yesterdays.

 

Cosy dreams and pageant's show

Since far away and long ago

Have brought us to the brink of time

Where clown and prince play pantomime.

We cheer, we boo, we clap our hands,

...

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brink of timecosy dreamsherojudgement daypantomimevillain

Blurred

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In evening light at still of day

Shadows are sweeping time away.

A man through his window sees it all,

The fading blue, the shadow fall.

At the upper edge of vision

Perfect pearl, divine precision.

As hidden jewel in tapestry,

Shines the orb through the trees.

Two thirds round, white edged, sharp and clean.

The last third blurs into the unseen.

Precise imper...

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eveningmoonpearlshadowstapestry

Meeting Greeting

How are you?

 

Oh, you know,

The tides of time

Wash along my coastline

And one day

The cliff of my existence

Will crumble and tumble

Into its waves.

 

How about you?

><>

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existancegreetingssocial interactiontime

Three Times

Three Times

 

On a thunderous evening

In the still of the storm,

We bounce our baubles of time-passed

Upon tables animated by waved forks,

Dis investing the plates

Of their succulence and garnish.

 

In the chilly morning, outside

We say again, “Autumn is here”,

Putting away our ideas

Of what the world should become.

We break the earth and rake together

The...

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autumnGolgothasocialisingtime

Startingblocks

Starting Blocks

I was born in nineteen forty four

When black and white films were the norm

And the black and white bloody world war

Was in the last bloody phase of its storm.

 

But what does a babe know of such things?

A mother's breast is all that it cares.

Her steady gaze to bask in,

Her voice to soothe its tears.

 

As child I saw the bomb torn sites,

...

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beginingschildhoodgrowing upthankfullnesswar

Stairways

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Stairways

Stairs going up, stairs going down,

Spiraling stairs going around, around, around.

Which ones to take, which ones to leave,

Ladder or snake? Where does it lead? What is achieved?

 

Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down,

Sometimes you just go around and around.

Nobody knows the troubles you've seen,

Nobody 'cept Jesus.

 

I passed a man coming...

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meaningsearchingstairways

On Being a Poet

Poets are renowned for navel gazing and being introspective. Here are three poems to prove the point. But hey, all navels need an occasional inspecting now and then. :)

The Unpublished Poet

He took a clipboard and a ballpoint pen.

He sat in the sun and then …..

He gazed at the sky, the inexplicable clouds,

Listened to trees sigh, untranslatable tones,

Thought of all that he...

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creativityinspirationlegopersperationpoetry

Children

These two poems I think pair up well together.  The first written to celebrate the birth of our first grandchild five years ago, the second written last year after a visit and time spent with him and his two brothers.

Nathaniel's Villanelle

Now welcome into this world little one.

You know no-one, nothing yet,

Yet from Him who knows all you come.

 

Your father, your mother als...

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birthchildrengenerationsgowing up

Here is the News

We take your faces to paper our walls.

We take your stories to hang in our halls.

We are the presenters, presenting the truth.

Believe us or not, it's up to you.

But most do.

 

We take your thoughts and turn them around.

We tell you which investments are sound.

We are the impartial in-telly-gents.

Believe us or not, it's up to you.

But most do.

 

Press...

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information warmediapropoganda

An Ode to The Puppiteers

An Ode to The Puppeteers

Your marionettes, so nimble, so well known.
The show's real cool when that fat lady sings
Those moody blues to mellow toned trombones.
But tell us, who is it who pulls the strings?
The Quiz-Master with twinkling eyes, smiles sweet.
He tells us, we could win the million prize.
That honey coloured blond is baking cakes.
The treacle tart looks good enough to eat.
Now...

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deceptiongrapes of wrathpuppet masterspuppets

An Amazonian Proverb

This is dedicated to all who have entered or are thinking of entering a poetry competition.

An Amazonian proverb screeched by a flailing bird

By all the forest creatures one balmy day was heard.

A multi-coloured parrot flying just for fun

Fell towards the river and into it did plunge.

 

An Amazonian gentleman canoeing by the spot

Turned to his companion and said - not a lo...

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Home is ....?

Is that our home, there, where we hang our hats?

There, where we boil our eggs and stroke the cat?

Knowing each cranny of our ingle nook

We turn the pages of our well thumbed book.

Home, sweet home!, yet, there is still an unease.

Cat-like it comes, our peace to paw and tease.

Close the castle door! Put the kettle on!

This is my chez-moi!, - for, how ever long?

We stand at...

Read and leave comments (7)

BabylonHometraveler

Ding! Dong!

Hello to this, for me, new universe of WOL. This poem was 'uninspired'. I was give the first line as a challenge to see if I could make a poem from it. Can there be good 'uninspired 'poetry?

Ding! Dong!

Who's that ringing my doorbell?

That ding-dong-dinging's hard to ignore.

Better get out of my shell.

 

Have they got nice stuff to sell?

Or are they collecting for the poor?

...

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doorbellout of my shellvillanelleWake up!

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