A Niggling Verse

 

You can’t do that there here 

No, you can’t do that there, here 

Anywhere else you can do that, there 

But you can’t do that there here - 

By Johanna Powell nee Leehan - Merthyr Tydfil

Autumn Sundown

 

Days pass by discernibly

Autumn clouds now congregate

Gathering in a weather meeting

In changing times, they conjugate

 

In the distance, many farewells

Returning softly minimally 

As the closing summer festival

Resigning philosophically

 

Faint reflections blend with twilight,
Echoes of the days gone by,
In the ebb of fading sunlight,
Dreams dissolve without goodbye.

Herbst-Sonnenuntergang 

Tage vergehen erkennbar 

Herbstliche Wolken ziehen auf Zusammenkunft in einer Wetterbesprechung Im Wandel der Zeit konjugieren sie 

In der Ferne viele Abschiede Sanft minimal zurückkehren Als abschließendes Sommerfest Philosophisch zurücktreten Schwache Reflexe vermischen sich mit der Dämmerung, Echos vergangener Tage, In der Ebbe des schwindenden Sonnenlichts, 

Träume lösen sich ohne Abschied auf.

Bald wird es Herbst.

 

Make Up Required

 

Stuck in a sleeping paragraph

By a headline tightly tucked in

With the sound of power alarming

Too early to soon to begin

Nothing more than a point of view

Stating a case of disparity

Avoiding the line that rises up

In a bubble of hooting hilarity

 

Silent echoes chase the chorus
Of hidden truths behind the scene
Paired on the edge of meaning
What is real remains unseen

 

Words like shadows stretch and wander
Framing thoughts we dare not voice
Caught between the lines of reason
Lost amid the noise and choice

Already?

 

Something strange about a wristwatch

It seems the time is always there

Not necessarily right or wrong

My ticking questionnaire

I consult it when I have to

Then check again for confirmation

Will the next bus that I’m waiting for

Transport me to my destination

Minutes blend into the silence

Seconds pause to catch their breath

Moments trapped in quiet puzzles

Wrestling with the hands of death

Yet the watch a timeless presence

Never rushing where I wait

Moves me through the blurred decisions

Charting futures shaped by fate

Suchness

Skipping down the aisle of time
Bothered not about the beat
Neatly stepping casually
Depending on my feet

Out of style with cravings
I aim to find my outlook sweet
Keeping up without a pace
Avoiding pauses as I greet

Gliding past the hurried places,
Lost within my quiet stream,
Moments stretch or gently linger,
Carried in a subtle dream.

Drifting where the rhythm loosens,
Released from rules or bounds,
Finding joy in soft abandon
Where my consciousness resounds

The Grand Composer

 

The musician sensing notes and scales

Becoming consummate infected

By grains and strains of melodies

In the pulse of beats detected

 

Looking both ways at vibrations

Feeling atmosphere in bones

Chasing four things then another

Discovering multiples of clones

 

Strings entwine with whispered riddles
Echoes weaving through the air
Crafting tales from silent moments
Soundscapes vivid, raw, and rare

 

Hands become a sea of motion
Fingers dance in fluid flight
Capturing the soul’s devotion
Painting music with the light

Based on a recently watched Netflix documentary on Keith Richards and read of Merlin Sheldrake's fabulous book on Entangled Life.

 

A Time and Place

 

Knowing how I once was here
I leave behind a short despatch
Written in a morning moment
For future eyes to catch

 

No hidden meanings in my note
To puzzle on or solve
Maybe write an answer in return
Simply something to involve

 

A whisper caught between the lines
A gentle thread through time’s embrace
A quiet voice that softly shines
To light a stranger’s face

 

So if you find this simple page
Remember pathways we can share
A fleeting glimpse from age to age
A story told from here to there

 

 

 

Pimpernelian

 

The visitor encroaching
On places not allowed
Vague impressions rambling
Hardly following the crowd

 

Moving in a quiet walk
At a slow deliberate pace
Hoping the custodians
Had no record of that face

Shadows lengthen, footsteps hushed
A secret kept in stride
Each corner holding stories
Where truths and doubts collide

Yet every step unsettles still
A presence stretched too thin
A whispered warning lingers close
Of where he’s never been

 

 

 

 

 

Dancers in the Diner

 

The Fork and Knife well-suited
Decided on a date
Initially were overseen
On both sides of the plate

They gleamed to see each other
Neither one outshined
Working well in tandem
Never once were undermined

Through dinners, rich and humble feasts
They danced their silent art
From ranch to royal banquets
Two halves that shared one heart

Though sometimes saucers clinked in haste
Or spoons sought sweeter sound
The Fork and Knife, a steadfast pair
In harmony were found

Their union, simple yet refined
A story told in grace—
Of balance found and functions matched
Two roles that time embraced

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sharp Tongued

 

Lemon on the windowsill,
shouting CHICKEN! at the sun
Not realising time is limited
Now the Lemon's on the run

Who knows why it did it
Maybe chase a fleeting dream
Or to outpace the ticking clock
Before the daylight’s gleam

Perhaps to find a secret place,
Where citrus scents once stirred,
A realm beyond the windowpane,
Where its sour call was heard.

Bold and bright against the sky
It dared to break the still,
A tiny rebel on the move
The Lemons’ chasing will

 

All Things Considered

 

Picture by Jon Carling @JonCarling

Wallowing in a thought lagoon

In a pond of pondering

Not much here that interests me

Leftovers  lingering

Hoping that a passing dream

With nowhere else to go

Can lend a hand in situations

With something I should know

Deep search for inspirations 

Drives desperation for a plot

In cluttered forests, I meander

For something new, I once forgot

Who Said That?

 

Billboards shouted quietly

Graffiti mislaid words

Messages had lost their way

With slogans for the birds

 

Slow demise of points of view

As tweets and postings faded

A mournful sigh to the rallying cry

Grassroots colours jaded

 

Nowadays, a statement craze

Inscribed on the skins of limbs

Imminently out of date

Like would be, wanna-be whims