The Inkwell#writephoto #soar
Swifter than their feathered brethren – they
welcome the signs of a changing breeze
it means they’ll be off with their cousins the swallows
for some warm air , seeds and sunshine, whilst
taking occasional naps under leafy sunshades
Some might say they float in the air
when these birds have their wings stretched out
imminent signs of departure – remote
for they’ll need to fill their bellies
to have the energy to fly towards the warm sun
Salford 9th April 2020
The wildlife of the locality
have had their free reign
with everyone inside
and no sight of rain
swooping around
enjoying the air
landing on rooftops
without a care
meeting up with old pals
on a moonlit street
the pickings are meagre
there’s no one to greet
watching the geese and ducks
out on parade
spotting scattered birdseed
heading off on a raid
Crafted from wisps of warm sugar
out of the machine it forms
taking the shape of a cloud
the cloud rises on the warm air
on some occasion, it has to be caught in the
nick of time, before it floats off on its own
Could there be a treat sweeter than this
as the candyman catches the cloud
numbers of children watch as its
delivered on the stick, all
yelling they want one – its such a sweet favorite
#fowc #plant
27th November 2019
An acrostic about a plant
Perhaps the greatest thing to come out of the ground
likes to brighten the garden and the air around it
as it recycles the carbon out in the air
note – it doesn’t take much applause , for what it does
though it does appreciate a daily watering and some food now and then
#Octpowrimo #Brokenpieces
Imperial War Museum North, Manchester UK (via the Inkwell), 22nd October 2019
How does someone express the act of war ?
take you through a hundred years
and tell that tale – that no one else can tell anymore.
The man with a vision
took a thing for brewing his cuppa
and changed it into something – iconic
Smashed with a hammer
Earth air and water
came together and reformed
Falling at the side of a waterway
painted by a painter
who’s centre stood next door
And in the evening sunlight
the air shard shone as shimmering light
cascaded off its solid steel
Morning beckons
and the tales from the shards
can be heard across town
from the tales within.
Salford 29th July 2019
#Weather #Seasons #Summer #Acrostic
Summer sees me ignore the cirrus and and stratus
Taking in the rays peering through summers marshmallows
Reality is – something’s been smiling floating in the air
A smiling cloud, happy in the blue
Tears ? not today…and when Ra gets a little bit to fierce
A fluffy cloud and his chums are there to provide a bit of cover
On a Sunday morning,
In the bright sunshine
You’ll see them all
In their finest
Taking a walk
With husband or wife
Along with the children,
Escaping the strife
No work for the blacksmith
The shops are all closed
They’ve all been to church
So a walk is proposed
And while making their way
To the local town fair
Some humbugs and sweets
The family will share
As mum and dad rest
In their boaters and hats
The children play games
With the balls and their bats
#Promptuarium
I suppose you thought that was funny ?
here I am sat by the bins
enjoying what could be my only meal for miles
and you decide to disturb my breakfast
Innocently enjoying the fish in the box
then over my foot comes this big heavy rock
expecting me to just fly away
I was too busy eating – no time to play
If I were human – I might have had words
but thing is being feathered – I’m only a bird
you wouldn’t want my beak coming round you to peck
so why use a big stone – I could have broke my neck!
I should count myself lucky – it wasn’t from a gun….
but disturbing my breakfast – wasn’t much fun
so i’ll return the favour – when you come back from the shop
expect something to land – coming down with a plop!
I sat open mouthed
as i watched the goings on
taking place in greenery
facing the kitchen
In an attempt to claim
a tree in their name
two or three white butterflies
engaged in aerial combat
Flying past the window
and around the roof
soaring to grab
their place on the tree
who won the contest ?
that’s anybodys guess
maybe we’ll find out
when the caterpillars hatch
the triangle a simple one
heat air and fuel
started by a little spark
amongst the smallest of shavings
Little flame eating
everything around it
kept at bay
by logs and bricks
Starting off slowly
the flames begin to grow
dining on everything near it
apart from the Billy can above
bread on a green stick
changes with the dancing flames
from dough to delight in seconds
with help from the makeshift grill
smells of the barbecue
rise in the air
as backwoods sausages
add fuel to the flames
light and warmth
dancing slowly in the moonlight
till all that are left
are the glowing impish coals
staff of life
the end of life
for the fire that maintained life
Round the campfire circle
