Tag: poem

The basket

Published on by bushboy14 Comments

Originally the photo was chosen as mysterious for this weeks Sunday Stills: The #Mysterious is a Beautiful Thing
But the words went another way than being beautiful.

The photo was taken in the Callen Park Mental Hospital, originally called the Callen Park Hospital for the Insane, now the Rozelle Hospital. Parts of the old historical buildings and grounds are used for events now. I was there for a wedding a few years ago.

So back to thinking of another post for Terri

Why there?
left behind
the asylum
closed for years
now empty
The screams
The stares
gone before
reflected outside
a world
unknown.
A corner
sits idle
Why there?
left behind

In many ways

Published on by bushboy16 Comments

Ragtag Daily Prompt Sunday: Flight

Whether it is just one
flying in the sky

Zooming around flowers
in the garden

Or two flying around
meeting up among the leaves

or a pair heading off
to find a roost

Flying in the garden
finding a snack to enjoy

or three soaring
in the blue sky

or many looking
for a place to eat

or lots gathering
to find food for the hive

or thousands filling the sky
with raucous calls

Whether at sunrise
flying out for the day

or at sunset
going to roost after a busy day

If you look
you will always
find someone
flying somewhere.
Whether in the sky
or in the garden
there will be
flying around

Who is in my shed

Published on by bushboy22 Comments

Ragtag Daily Prompt Friday: Spook

Looking through the window
staring through the glass
a face, a skull, a creature
taunting me to pass.
I want to go inside
my hand upon the lock
I shake and tremor
I fear I may in for a shock.
Who could it be
what could it be
should I be scared
will it harm me.
Who is at the window
staring through the glass
I am not scared
but still I might pass.

Together forever

Published on by bushboy8 Comments

Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge: Smooth

He saw her
upon a branch
that’s when
he took his chance.
I love your colours,
the way you sit
he said,
to me you’re it.
You have a way,
just perfect miss
do you mind
if I steal a kiss.
Smooth he is
that’s his life
now he has
a colourful wife.
Eggs will be laid
chicks will hatch
right from the start,
a perfect match.

A bounty

Published on by bushboy27 Comments

Ragtag Daily Prompt Saturday: Citrus

Before a lemon
a flower is born
splendid in white
a centre is formed

A lemon emerges
hangs on to life
shiny and golden
from sunshine to ripe

The tree is heavy
a bounty of lemons
yellow and happy
life from the soil

Towards the end
a sunset of life
the next stage
ready for picking

Tonight is the Winter Solstice

Published on by bushboy30 Comments

Terri’s Sunday Stills: A Wildflower #Solstice

The fire was lit
to celebrate
the Winter Solstice
the warming glow
smoke drifting
into the trees

The sun was setting
casting a stillness
over the bush
birds at roost
silence
only broken by
sounds of cars
in the distance
on the highway
heading home
from working in town

A car drives
down my road
the crunch of gravel
another coming
home for dinner
Here’s cheers
to the Winter Solstice
a wine and snacks
crackers
cheese
olives
sopressa
the warmth of
the fire

The sky darkens
the bush is quiet
all are home
the faint sound
music from
down the road
the faint reverse beeping
of the final
truck to
leave the quarry
silence at last
darkness decends

The final embers
the final glow
of a winters day
Winter Solstice
goodbye my friend
until next year
when a fire
will be lit
to celebrate
the Winter Solstice

In the box

Published on by bushboy11 Comments

A reply of random thoughts to Amanda’s Imagination in a Box

Should I open the lid
what could escape
inside my mind
I have many
things
memories
string
to tie the past
to the future
stones
to lay foundations
or archeological ruins
feathers
plucked laying bare
wrapped in warmth
paper clips
holding it all together
no escape
staying within my mind
Never open the lid.

If these walls could talk

Published on by bushboy13 Comments

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #410

He sits beside
these broken
walls
listening
Has she a voice
to tell him
life
love
His face
rough stones
close
enticing
Her story
to touch
entreating
being
Voices of past
tears now
straining
hearing

nothing