Walking through the woodland with my two companion hounds, I was amazed how tall the grass had suddenly become. – Which came to me in the lines “lost in grass” / “lost in June” and that’s how this poem began…. the rest of that walk completed this poem
In June’s Time, Lost.
In June’s Time Lost,
– Earth on her Summer wave, flung
In the years green-tonic slung,
On the fresh canvas among
Mothers patchwork cover wrung
In the companions ‘scape, among
Dragon-flies and butterflies and pen-friends young.
Amidst untamed hay flung,
Where the sun-strikes and feet un-slung
The restored chaos and nettles left, un-stung.
The floodlight days hung,
In wild warm days sung.
– The tree-house upon earth, flung
In the emerald surf clung
– In June’s Time Lost.
~ K.S Blackmore
Why not go get lost in nature`s time……?
Please comment below
Made with the help of many a cups of tea & too many chocolate bars
Thank you for reading & watching
(Ssshhh ~ Next poem stirring under the title “Rose petal perfume and Wembley goals”………)
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
Thank You for reading & watching
(From a whisper next poem – working title “Who`s There?”…..)
Picture the scene – your in a job you actually love, it’s enjoyable, and it feels like your calling, this perfect job you’ve been doing for some years now….. then one morning it’s gone, just like that! Perhaps the first thing you would do call home, phone mum in despair for help & advice ….. Or Maybe realise deep down it’s not the end of the world……?!
Well for me it was – there was no phone call home, or a visit to mum for a cuppa and chat. For that amazing job involved mum, – I was a carer, I was my mums carer. – Five years of being by my mums side through thick and thin, tears and laughter and more laughter and tears. Watching (bowel) cancer slowly take mum (aged 63) away from me.
The shock wave the morning after mums passing and the realisation hits in two life changing blows – mother- less and made redundant (care no longer needed), still hurts now (year and a bit later – a Little TLC needed for the ex-carer would of helped me).
– No one prepares you for that day, be it the person gone or the job that you learnt on the spot, and even the fiance aspect of it.
The whole world that you lived and breathed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, on call no matter the time – no walking out the door just ‘coz i fancied a day of! – Snatched away, with the feeling of being left in the middle of a ocean, struggling to stay afloat. – A angel mum to often called me, now that Angel starts falling…… through no-ones fault, just the way life turned.
But every angel deserves to be caught
~ This poem sums up the first couple of days or so after that life-changing event (more-so the no longer caring side)
Ode To Yesterdays Angel. Tears into a twinkle, a twinkle into tears bursting,
From eyes that miss the rainbow surfed.
Walls of blue weathered in yesterdays echoes
This haunt wiped a home as dust settles.
No footsteps came, no footsteps goes
Chatter muted, notes taken, stand-stilling.
Scarce of breath that play stopped,
In silence hit, silence drowns, silence welcomed.
To embers etched in stale crumbs, in cold cups, sheets pulled,
Pills un-swolled, petals stained.
A house colding, lone company, no breathes.
A hand freezing, a hand yawning, hands bereaved.
Surplus to needs the badge unpinned
Passed return, in ashes smouldering
Heart-burnt in yesterdays love ceased.
This tree uprooted, as winter settles
Only ticking clocks haunt in this furrow ploughed.
At peace, – unmasking battle scarring
From the label striped.
– This mourning a angel falling….
Q ~ Have you experienced becoming a falling angel, a yesterdays carer?
Please share your thoughts and how you come through the experience, how you managed to move on, what you done next, Advice, help ?