Poetry Blog by Helen
on First-Footer (Wed, 3 Jan 2018 08:32 am)
on How To Catch A Fish In The Solent (Sun, 15 Oct 2017 01:11 pm)
Do not let my first-footer be that ghost
of years ago, he always seems to come
at Hogmanay. What bothers me the most -
I know his game, the beating of his drum
dressed up like bells, I've heard that sound before
and he knows all too well I'll let him in
each time that he comes knocking at my door;
Then suddenly I've lost myself again.
Not this year though. My threshold does not want
Tuesday 2nd January 2018 12:04 pm
Will the demolition man know
what lies within these age-old walls,
five-shilling a yard foundations
evolved from historic battlefields.
Will he taste if it is blood
bone, heart or skin
hiding within empty wards, waiting
to succumb to the unknown.
As the echo of his steel toe boots
reverberates through corridors
and daylight cracks the dome,
will he catch his own ref...
Friday 3rd November 2017 12:54 pm
Aim to reach the hot walls before dawn
to bid the moon farewell and greet the sun,
salute the sailors on their morning run.
Then wave your arms at islanders upon
the St Helen. As soon as she is gone
unpack your bag, your tea and Belgian bun
to keep you sated till your work is done.
This fishing lark is quite a marathon!
Then once you're fed and watered get your rod
and take a gentle strol...
Wednesday 11th October 2017 11:32 am
She moves like air among the blush-pink roses
wearing their scent like a shroud.
Waiting in the silence of spring, watching
for me to show face – same time, same place.
This is her playground now
her library, her peace.
I appear; and as ritual dictates
she asks me to open the book.
Then tracing the art of calligraphy
she stops on the name
and nothing has changed -
all the greys of yeste...
Tuesday 3rd October 2017 8:56 pm
When I was a child they called me a wean
The place where I lived, not a home but a hame.
My mum was ma mammy, my dog was ma dug
My uncle was Hugh but to us he was Shug.
A potato - a tattie, a turnip - a neep
My house was a hoose and to cry was to greet.
A wisnae was wasn't, and did not was disnae
A kiss was a winch and a red face a riddy.
If someone was simple to us they we...
Saturday 30th September 2017 4:37 pm
Court shoes on, navy blue
Polished to perfection,
No other colour shoe will do
They're subject to inspection.
Hair pristine, smiley doors
Clipboard held up high,
Ready for the airport wars
All reps standing by.
First arrivals jostle through
"Are you my rep" they say
I am indeed, how do you do
Let's start your holiday.
On the coach, grumpy faces
Another long delay
Airline losing sever...
Wednesday 29th June 2016 9:19 pm
Oi heid the baw
Noo wit's the matter?
Don't greet aboot
Ma dodgy patter.
Jist gies a winch
Behind the wa'
I swear a wulny
Tell yer maw.
Al huv' ye hame
the back a ten
So how's aboot
A smooch then hen?
Friday 13th May 2016 10:08 am
steeped in memories
of dreams and expectations
the September chill
outweighed by the warmth
of our hands, entwined
in revealing a secret
you left me captivated
by the fullness of the moon
in your wisdom
you divulged its magic
knowing, that forever more
with each new moon
I would bow three times
then make a wish
not knowing, that
my wish would always be
to see your face, to ...
Tuesday 10th May 2016 8:04 pm
Gente breeze blowing
Dandelion soars skywards
Dreams become wishes
Wednesday 20th April 2016 4:30 pm
The sun, full like a ripe peach
Curtseys to the moon
As it powder paints the sky
With warning signs of danger.
Tuesday 19th April 2016 7:59 pm
that filled my every fibre?
Or perhaps erase the perfumed scent
of Jasmine dabbed behind your ear.
You kept me wrapped in softness
of your skin, protected
from this world and all its flaws.
Although I feel the sun shine
through the glass, I cannot help
but long for snow, to feel
your touch once more.
and you are gone.
Thursday 14th April 2016 9:38 am
I was born here, under Maggie's rule.
Living beneath her Spitting Image character
hanging from a telecom wire overhead.
The youth here knew hate before they knew love
and everybody hated the Iron Lady.
Everything here was grey; from the rows of well-worn
tenements and dirt-strewn streets to the sunken eyes
of every battered wife.
Violence was rife, accepted as normality.
A messed up reali...
Tuesday 12th April 2016 11:07 am
A mother's love starts with a babe's debut
That flickers like a flame against the night,
A snapshot of a heart that beats in you
A life that you will guide towards the light.
Such tiny movements felt, though often slight,
The whispered echoes of a life; brand new,
Each flutter seeks to bring its own delight
A mother's love starts with a babe's debut.
And so the love expands with every view
Monday 11th April 2016 8:53 pm
I can not write a limerick
No chance of villanelle,
My triolet's in tatters
I'm in uninspired hell.
My sonneteering's scarpered
And my metre's gone as well,
I miss those days when I could pen
A perfect terzanelle.
I tried for rhyming couplets
But they all seemed quite cliché,
I fear my talent has run out
And I have had my day.
My sestina's on siesta
And my pantoum's gone away,
Sunday 10th April 2016 9:58 am
The Foxes are top of the league
It is all down to Richard III.
They're showing no signs of fatigue
The Foxes are top of the league!
Those foreigners watch with intrigue
It's Leicester, this seems so absurd
The Foxes are top of the league?
Is it all down to Richard III?
Saturday 2nd April 2016 9:49 pm
Take a bumble bee and bunny rabbit
Then introduce them to some woolly sheep,
Together as a group they will inhabit
A brand new home forever theirs to keep.
Pick a bunch of tulips for some beauty
A shiny button too for some pizazz,
Add a bunch of grapes to make it fruity
Perhaps some feathers for some razzmatazz.
Ensure a nest made out of shredded paper
Is filled with wobble-headed baby ch...
Saturday 2nd April 2016 8:50 am