โ€œA Spring Song.โ€ – Poem + Film By K.S Blackmore

Spring is but a song drifting among the warm fresh air of April and May…..

The line “daffodils crumple” came to me whilst filling the bird baths, and that’s how this poem started …….. enjoy

A Spring Song.

So Spring signs of Winters cassette,
As green shoots sweat, in dry land set
From pastures ate, to Septembers fruit set.
To bumble bees and skies signal,
As feathers warble, among trees un-staple,
In woodland marvel beneath a purple babble.
From chimneys pots asleep turns jackdaws keep,
Where young hearts peep, and leap
From last years shabby chic or new builds tweak!

Seas of sunshine reek and strands of golden streak.
To familiar wings in twirl and curl,
As down on earth, bracken uncurl,
From primroses fold to wild-roses un-fold
Buttercups in meadows and grass stirring gold.
Tulips do peep and blossom does weep.
Springs reap rolls over a leafy sweep,
With bright days leak, unearths a rosy cheek!
As wings of wisdom come peak and sneak,
To a orange tip un-crumple
And a hundred thousand daffodils crumple……..


Q ~ My Song of Spring is ….. ?

A – Comment below Link above

#springsong

Thank You for reading & watching

(From a whisper next poem – working title “Who`s There?”…..)

Keep crumbs on The Empty Biscuit Tin
20

Poems ~ Woolgathering. By K.S Blackmore

Yep still scribbling away! 5 more verses composed, scribbled and set free ….. Enjoy ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Basking summer days away…… –

To Bask.
The sun out to play, for all to bask.
To perch on the fence with a flask,
Of tea. All only oneself asked.
Eyes heeding, ears untroubled, mouth masked.
Reflecting. The land grows, crops ripen. Earth too basks.
Percieving bees, birds, butterflies too, raid brimful casks.
So leave me here, leave the world at task.

 

Thanking the land…… –

This Land.
Bewildering this land, just now in green,
All yesterdays long hidden under-scene.
Seen of the snowman in wintertide,
Spring burst upon, tears spilled far and wide.
Yet to gaze outwardly upon this stage, is to see
The land a bake, bestows we,
Heavens thanked for our daily dough.
Vitality, might, grieve, all infuse the land green, go.

 

One happy farmer….. –


A Farmer A Smile A Beer.
Acers of fields sweeping with ripeness.
Behold that combine harvestor, done with greyness!
All tuned-up with fields to comb,
Called upon to usher the gold home.
The heavons sober! Summer skies of cheer.
Fonder back in store, fuel for next year.
And a farmer, a smile released, to tomorrows beer!

 

A nod to the glorious summer evenings –

Summers Evening.
The summers evening is a glorious gifting.
No lights out, just sunlight difting.
The travail is done, the day is not!
Straight out the backdoor chasing the sun. Got,
To saunter the evening away.
That polaroid from wintery nights is aweigh.

 

Me – Musing X …..

This is where i currently am, longing to be on the canal side of life, but life is dragging me towards the other side….!!

On The Tow Path.
To watch cricket bats grow,
To reside where clover bestow.
The unhurried pace that grass to hay bring.
To be a cuckoo, be the fisher king.
Skating without rush upon murky reflected earth,
Six foot above. A differing world, yet same earth!
To be blessed, the tow path only the chaser.
i the captain. Not the acer.
To let man out speed, my own steam now.
Beneath heavens of blue, alongside neighbours the only cow!
To be awaken by the choir at day-break.
Be in awe, history of naure to betake.
To good days where cheery folk speak, of greetings!
To see for-ever-green, no red self-defeatings.
With bright skies a fore no nimbus cloudburst,
To the joyous path bestowing direction to the sunburst…….

Woolgathering, passing footnotes a slow,
On this path where hooves before did tow.
With the script of ones existance to sow,
To steer aright path, forgo…….

Not to end where the buddlia seed.
To out pace house-boats…., only to recede!
In bovine trunks. Full aboard.
Stuck a ships mate, for a sentence a bored!
Be in circles going, cuckoo gone. The einstein frazzled.
Satisfying only greedy felines razzled.
In a clog, abide! Narrative of tomorrow creating.
Through nettles be pushed, to end beneath, stagnating.
Perceive stampedes of red, nah green. Tomorrows,
Path to the lustreless of nimbus, and the blue of sorrows…..

 

Woolgathering was fuelled by too many cups of tea and many a jelly baby! Plenty of vitamin C, perfer being out of doors (well escaping to the shed).
The pencil is already scribbling away….. ๐Ÿ™‚

Keep crumbs on The Empty Biscuit Tin
20

Poems ~ Leave Me Not Grey. By K.S Blackmore

Dealing with grieve – losing my mum, seems to have turned me into a bit of a “poet”. Most are of the theme nature. Scribbling as i call it {referring to the state of my paper!}, gives my brain something different to think about. I now seem to be seeing the world from a different angle. These “poems” i enjoy composing, & seems a shame if they just stay in my notepads……..

This first one is from the heart….. X

I Am Breath, Still.

Dearest kinfolk, I am breath. Still
A forgotten note, whitewashed in zinc.
Calendars turn, no thoughts. Stock-still.
Perhaps ones thinking, while others think.
A spider now, thus I feel.
A loss, in a night-dream. No leave.
Existing! On-stage, laundry pegged and wondering. Yet lips a seal.
In a forest sinking amid wild garlic, joined in grieve.
Frozen, numb. Eyes stare, emptied of screen-wash.
Submerged. To often the heart a squash.
My folk left stage. Yet I am breath, still
X



To nature with a smile,
 
In The Lea.

The world is looking really well.
In the lea, bumblebees and butterflies
A flutter. As paint of green, fresh, thrown! Comes a yell,
Action!! Green lights! Creatures fuel! Fresh again, tries.
For another summer with another year to flourish.
Straw hats? Rain coats? Best now to nourish!


But A red light.....

That Little Esprit.

i take a saunter in this moon of May,
Open wide ears! For two notes conducted,
Composes my summer….. But thus far dismay,
i foot-slogged…. to bleakness! The cuckoo abducted!
What of a kingdom, silenced of the king?!
To perceive my summer days adhere.
A glum, glum land. Ourselves we wring.
But blue not i! For tomorrow, next week too, me and my ear
Will come back still, for that little esprit
Will not steer clear of me!

 

Panic over. Take five……

Beside The River.

 

Beside the river. Close by a worn weir
Still. If only for five!
Swans. A broad, in no hurry, peer!
The rivers pace of life, a thrive,
Enchanting one and all. As always nature volunteers
The remedy. Not on ones own, basking
Too, wild creatures full of cheers!
Adams ale. Daily bread. All, asking!


Staying riverside with a promise ……

Leave Me Not Gray

 

When i run, to the river i head
With the drifting birds, i too return.
The river endlessly passing, sped
With a ton of innermost musings, free`d. As discern,
Oneself weathered back out, to where after?
Disembark! To immerse, wet toes or dry earth stay?!
Up river a thoroughfare of green chased after,
With a promise to leave me not gray

 

 

“Poems” fuelled by lots of cups of tea & a assortment of dark chocolate {what i call brain food!}. Composed with the help of vitamin D.

Keep crumbs on The Empty Biscuit Tin
20

Poems – Gumboots Don. By K.S Blackmore

Some more scribbling! Putting a smile on my face. Loving the place scribbling lets me escape to. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Wakey Wakey.

Mum nature`s wakey – wakey nudges a rapture.
With a grace, for today we have a woken.
Now up! No excuse this day to capture
For tomorrow maybe a heart-broken.
Only this day is given, and not waiting
No need a first coffee, the sun abuzz
Make hasten! The days already deflating!
So take hold the whole day, `coz
A tonic missed if snoozing outdoes!

 

 

Gumboots Don.

Dawning beckoning as woods awake
My gumboots don, keen to yomp. Nay naturalist still espy
The roe deer, hide and seek to laik
Trees galore with trees of short, trees of high,
Trees of age and trees of youth.
Those birdie folks country estate!
And betokening all is sooth.
With footnotes aplenty in black treacle, great!
Carrying`s-on courtesy of that woodland jester.
And booming the soundtrack, acknowledged Mr Black-Bird.
As up high certain a bird, his breakfast prey a fester.
And still the days not yet curd!

 

 

Bleak Days, Past.

Whispers of bleak days past,
Murmurs a stirring, natures a nudge.
Ensnared no-more. Released again at last
Warming up benumbed souls from the sludge.
Air fresh, filled a song or two subdued,
To dusting`s of hues, uplifting the mood.

 

 

Herald Of Spring.

Herald of spring is the morns epigraph.
Breathing once more, the great sallow is a go.
Too, the hearken of chiff – chaff. So on behalf
A shout of spring is so.

 

 

A Gentleman Of Age.

In a farmers field he stands
A gentleman of age.
At peace with life, he understands.
A chilled winter break off stage
Too cleansed, thanks too showers of April.
Eager now for this new year
The campsite vacant, queuing fauna squabble.
As I long, his secrets locked, to overhear.
In awl I stand, admiration full. Surely outlived?

 

Keep crumbs on The Empty Biscuit Tin
20

Poems ~ A Touch Of Charm. By K.S Blackmore

I have startedย scribbling {poetry?}, with a realize, it is my way of airing my thoughts & feelings. Clearing out my mind and after I am done, being in a better place! ๐Ÿ™‚

Escape away….. –

 

ย A Touch Of Charm.

Along the brook here-upon,
Snow! Proper winter awoke.
Feathered folk eager for it gone!
A touch of charm for us folk.

 

Idle, they chill.


Bemused the sheep. A flock
Idle, they chill. Braced effectively
As the snow, flakes came. The smock
now sized perfectly

 

A Blanket Drapes The Landscape.

The yuletide card to paint,
A blanket drapes the landscape.
Clouds above lowering and laden. So quaint!
More snow! A battlefield, still no escape.
Mammals and man too, rattled.
Mammals, tiny and mighty, survival. Fearful.
For man he`s too battled,
The elements. Hands helpful

 

 

The Chest Of Trees, Among.

Sheltered, from the blizzard.
As winter launches, down a helter- skelter!
A chest of trees, among. No fool, wayward!
So tall! Yet, a simple shelter
From that mother nature!

 

Keep crumbs on The Empty Biscuit Tin
20