Tag: #poetry

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

It was on the shelf

Published on by bushboy31 Comments

Ragtag Daily Prompt Friday: Eldritch

As i walked
among the
rows
of shelves
i could see
could feel
the eyes
upon my being
drilling into my
flesh
a bead of
sweat
trickled
what am i
doing here
what was that?
footsteps!
no a scraping
was that breathing?
Darkness enveloped
again
footsteps
No……i am alone
among the shelves
something sent
a breath
a breeze
across my face
more sweat
i am alone
eyes
i feel
upon me still
among the rows
of shelves
i walk
suddenly
there
in front of me
A jump back
recoil
i turn to run
a look
of horror
of shock
it’s there!
As i walked
among the
rows
of shelves.

It all adds up

Published on by bushboy41 Comments

Sadie’s What do you See

The image to work with

Euclid
Pythagoras
A mystery to me
Some say
Geometry
I say angles
axioms
lines
planes
spacial relationships
(my bestie and me)
circles and rectangles
Pie (not Pi)
I need
a protractor?
but on my farm
I need
a tractor
But a set square?
I only have
Becky’s Squares
which do me fine
But do I need
to know
the shapes
the size
the dimensions
of things
around my house
I need to
know
what bird
that sings
not the
workings
of many things
From my schooling
Pythagoras
and Euclid
my mind has hid.

Poetic – with apologise to TS Elliot

Published on by bushboy42 Comments

Debbie’s One Word Sunday: Poetic

Debbie illustrated her stanza of TS Elliot’s The Waste Land poem beautifully with references to Margate. The name reference made me laugh as I had just read another reason that he added an S to his name. As I am not English and don’t have a vast amount of photos from my times in England to illustrate my post, I shall have to with what I have here.

From the same poem, which has many stanzas, I have chosen this stanza and I feel my photo may be an Aussie interpretation. You have to know a bit about Australian insects and their behaviour to fully understand the part of the poem and my photo interpretation. All works well up to the last line. For those who could be unaware of my liking for all things in nature and could have an aversion to spiders, perhaps read the wonderful verse but proceed no further or as I would like, that you do have a quick peek to understand my reasoning for including this photo to match the poem.

“She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
“Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.”
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.”

Here is the full poem if you may be interested https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47311/the-waste-land

If you have any questions why I used the photo and how it matched the words, just send me a comment please

A writing challenge

Published on by bushboy25 Comments

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge February 15
Today’s prompt: Write a poem that starts with bitten

Bitten not Bittern
a bite
not a bird
chew and munch
at lunch
a strange call
a Bittern a bird
was heard
an apple
for lunch
was bitten
a crunch
was heard
as was a Bittern
a picnic
was bitten

If you have not seen or heard a Bittern calling, have a listen

From 11debmiller https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCEtvQ5l4Qiwk7foEIfNNG7g


Hot Wax on Water

Published on by bushboy19 Comments

Judy’s poem challenge to me

Photo from Judy’s post What is it? Last on the Card: January 2022 which inspired the poetry challenge

IMG_5359

From Judy “What should be a poem? Hot wax on water? I’ll write one if you will.”
and then “I may change it to Hot wax on Cold Water. But is it a challenge?”

My reply”I find it hard to actually compose a poem. Most of mine are spur of the moment words that dribble out. I’ll give it a go but has to be Hot Wax on Water title 😃”

So here it is Judy

Bubbling pot
steam and brew
dish of water
just a spot.
Now look
swirls and stew
wax rising
being hot.
The shapes
colour and falter
it’s just
hot wax on water.

Over to you Judy, knowing your superior poetry skills will just crush mine


Living free

Published on by bushboy32 Comments

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge: Walls
Ragtag Daily Prompt Saturday: Freedom

Upon my walls
they run free
keeping
my house
insect free
They have
their freedom
bother
no one
Behind the
pictures
on the walls
scouting for
insects
a mate
Beautifully named
Velvet Geckos
exist with me
Under the light
is one
I named
Keith
any insect who
drops to the
floor
is dinner
But upon
the walls
they run free.

Say hi to Keith