Early Morning

Home, Life, Poetry, Transport

Salford 23rd August 2018

Squeaky doors

are better clarion calls

than any alarm clock

on the market

 

Slumbered silence

broken by a cistern

attracts you to the noise

of the nearby main road

 

Luna’s departure

allows Ra to announce

“The morning is here!

it’s time to get up”

 

And motorised monsters

or kings of the road

make their way delivering boxes

either side of the tarmac

 

Solitary Swallow

converses with the neighbours

on a nearby roof –

tweets the news – no laptop required

 

The rumble of early morning traffic

cascading through the windows

is followed by the crack of an egg

falling into sizzling bacon fat

 

Kettle whistles through the concrete

up through the bedroom floor

your first cup of the day is ready

milk and two sugars ?

 

 

Window on the world

Acrostic, Poetry

#Spectacles #Blackpool #Photography #Poetry

Salford, 29th July

 

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Seen through the wide window

Pictures begin to form, captured by the lens

Everyday artworks, appear in a full spectrum of

Colour, bringing life to

The scene in front of you

As you press the button, and release the shutter –

Camera captures your view of things, as you

Looked through the glass in front of you

Exciting events – brought to life in an instant

Two Quarrelling Brothers

Poetry, Weather

DSC_0704.JPG

I sat watching by the window

as two quarrelling brothers

traded blows over a tree outside

both lay claim on this tall green beauty

and each tried their hardest to get it for themselves

but as day turned into night

the tree stayed rooted to its spot

and neither brother got what they wanted

opting to play with some fallen leaves instead

Profuse

Poetry

Salford 1st February 2018

Profuse

Go on, dive in!

there’s plenty more

said the rich man sat at the table

of the restaurant store

but while he and his friends

where dining on goose

with veggies and stuffing and strawberry mousse

the waiters tears softly dropped to the floor

for whilst those at the table ate more and more

looking through window – were the eyes of the poor

Stained Glass Window

Art, Arts, BASIC, Places, Pleasures, Poetry, Religion

Salford 18th September

Poem borrowed from my page at Allpoetry.com

A tale a bit crafty, a bit religious, but all by me

Artwork created at Craft Sessions at Brain & Spinal Injury Charity in Salford.

 

 

As the Sun comes up,

its light shines through

the panels of coloured glass

angling the now coloured light

painting a picture,

of scenes on a floor

And as the sun shines,

through that brightly coloured window

reds cast with yellows

and greens cast with blues

as molten lead holds on tightly,

keeping the picture alive

 

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Enter a caption

 

 

Window

Buildings, Home, Life

Written in response to the daily post prompt

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/window/”>Window</a&gt;

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The window –

I see it as a never ending picture frame

looking out onto the world

The picture doesn’t change much

 

Animated characters

pass through the pictures

in the skies

and on the ground

 

clear blue skies

occasionally peppered by

white fluffy marshmallows

(you would know them as clouds)

 

A perfect picture

better than all television

Drama (Life), played out

beyond the glass

Another boot in a window

Army, Exhibit, Museum, Poetry, War, World War I, writing

A tale of an Old Army Boot – On display in the timeline at Imperial War Museum North in Trafford, Manchester.

 

Another boot in a window ?

The cobbler must be proud!

As it’s placed in a window wi uniforms

Oh, how it sings out loud.

 

But, dear boot is looking quite shabby,

No polish on him for a while

Old mud encrusted in his leather

Is that the latest style?

 

Foreign Mud – well , its hard to get rid of

and old boot here has plenty to see

but its wailing a tone – as it sits, all alone

under someone’s old uniform it be

 

His sole it could do with some tacking

and a new lace will do there – I’m sure

as you read of his story in th’ window

one you’ve not heard of before

 

He’s telling the tale of his brother –

The one , who didn’t return

So he’ll sit there in Solemn Remembrence

In the hope, you and I, we will learn.