Poetry Blog by Patricia and Stefan Wilde
he retains his senses
gleaned from his younger days
that make him aware of his surroundings.
he is safe,
that the possibilities
of obstructive furnishings
won't get in his full shadowed way.
Occasionally he will brush his head against them
as though needing to know they are still there.
Very slowly precariousl...
Saturday 3rd March 2018 9:32 pm
Saturday 24th February 2018 8:43 am
Our time decreases unceasingly until
replacing this short-lived light with enigmatic gloom
so unkind the pace so unknown the darkening hour or its place
or why our journeys from the womb
shall our used flesh transmute to fleshless spirit
when ends it's earthly stay
will eternity expose such secrets to we it's passengers
or simply carry us forever and endlessly away?
Thursday 22nd February 2018 11:45 am
Basketry of brambles
woven into a world of entanglement.
Varying forms of fauna
dotting the sprawl with colour.
near-hidden from view
a limpid green pool
to Summers evaporative smoldering
as it hovers over the thick brothy surface.
Adorning the flowerings
more beautiful still
a showy butterfly...
Saturday 17th February 2018 5:43 pm
Thursday 15th February 2018 9:08 pm
Your words beneath our wings
your pebbles of humour
scattered among many pages
From every one of your invaluable lines
and befriending opinions
we continue learning
how to discover fire and flight
treasured like precious collectable's
used to repair our ongoing faults.
No dear friend
there can never be a beginning to the end...
Monday 12th February 2018 12:13 pm
Like a two-toned projectile
she speedily diminishes any distance
works the fields
with almost human conscientiousness.
To her the heights
of any surrounding stone wall
fence or five-barred gates
You will never see
tiredness or unwillingness
in her alert beautiful eyes
only the enjoyment of devotion to duty
and a keen state of r...
Monday 5th February 2018 9:56 pm
Saturday 27th January 2018 8:26 pm
you have only a week to live!
Then you wake up
its all been a bad dream.
you are not yourself
when you just sit there finding fault
with the tiniest of problems in life.
© Patricia Wilde 27/01/2018
Saturday 27th January 2018 1:29 pm
prior to the arrival of swallows lining up on it
doubtlessly chattering about the journey here
like an excited party of returning schoolkids
the black liquorice looking cable
hung between creosoted posts, I hear
is being pensioned off
to be rerouted underground.
I,m wondering if this useless to be carrier
of so many many voices-cum-bird perch
will be ignored and s...
Monday 22nd January 2018 10:58 am
Sly pretentions hid in
the words given to this my heart
she thought captured
that it would foolishly believe
were messengers of love.
Her intentions glazed with skilful deception
and perceptions of my enslavement to her foolery
I thought deemed to be poorly schooled in the art of defence against manipulation.
How deviously she had sighted my inner lonelinesse...
Thursday 18th January 2018 5:28 pm
so here are the writings
that have inspired us
here in the WOL blogging's
the meat and veg of poems and stories
our favourites above all other literary fayre
a celebrated crowning of our occasional days
that will never be allowed to go awry.
Here we learn how moods and opinions of all kinds
swing the poetical and story telling weather
through the compasses
Wednesday 17th January 2018 12:23 pm
a little guy
aims his toy gun
at the other kids
to him,they are the 'baddies'
for his invisible bullets.
Each of his trigger pulls
seeing those in the imaginary crosshairs
pretending to die
plants an indelible overwhelming
feeling of power
in his young subconsciousness.
Just a kids game right?
But little are we able to determine...
Sunday 14th January 2018 7:20 pm
Struggling up the hills challenges my age
but poses no problem
for my insubstantial companion
he can manage it lying down!
no aching joints or defiant lungs
in his fleshless boneless body
he WOULD find it easy
that voiceless negative of me
since it is I who am obliged
to keep him in tow
and despite the fact that at present
he weighs nothing and has n...
Thursday 11th January 2018 8:50 pm
a vandal thrown beer bottle in free fall
at the point of smashing
about to rebound its echoey voice off the cobbled
alleyway walls and become a glittering shard carpet
sends me into immediate reverse
loud threats from the brain dead youth
not content with his meaningless victory
I cannot stop from luxuriating in my ears.
In retreat looking back over my shoulder
Tuesday 9th January 2018 7:44 pm
( Thanking Colin Hill for inadvertently helping me to glean an idea for this poem from one of my own comments on his Bread making machine brilliant yarn and also thanking my wife in allowing me to imagine how I would cope in her somewhat elongated absence)
Would she when no longer gathering at the check-out
into Asda ...
Thursday 4th January 2018 7:31 pm
each ache of longing
for the good old times
becomes lost when coming up against reality
where the modernised live
in sterile places not the damp terraces of Crumbling Town
doors of which I repeatedly try to re-enter in my mind
but even they are attempting to make good their escape
leaving me alone in the new cold
stubbornly refusing to adapt.
Wednesday 3rd January 2018 10:40 am
Fiery day banked down
a smouldering core of sunset
and you O handsome nocturnal creature
soon to be caressed
by unreeling celestial luminaries
enhancing the fluency of nightfall.
Oft near motionless monarchic observer
surveying your realm of moon powdered fields
with clockwork fashioned turns of the head.
Tuesday 2nd January 2018 9:16 pm