Future Perfect

Future Perfect…

Midnight strikes and a New Year is born

Brand new decade unwritten, unformed

Blank page turns, slate wipes clean

Nascent future pristine

Leaves the past dog-eared, tattered and torn…

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Ending

Poetry to Die For: Christina Rossetti

One of my favourite poems of all time is ‘When I am dead, my dearest’ by Victorian poet Christina Rossetti. I realise it’s a morbid thought, but I’d love to record myself reading it out loud, and have it played at my funeral… For me it truly is poetry to die for…

'When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.'

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Plant

The Sound of Seagulls

The sound of seagulls stirs me from my sleep

Their haunting cry a strangely sad lament

That speaks of old emotions strong and deep

Bereft with loss, they mourn with voices rent

With flurried wings they settle; vantage high

Their scrabbling claw-feet scratching sloping slate

I sense their presence, hear their plaintive cry

Strong harmonies like river-song in spate

But lying warm in bed I snuggle down

And pull the covers close with no delay

Beyond the curtains sunrise starts to crown

As night gives birth to amber skies of day

I dream of seagulls soaring high above

Protecting me with mournful songs of love… ❤

Red Red Rose

I saw this lovely big red rose while out for a walk this afternoon, and it reminded me of Robert Burns 1794 song ‘A Red Red Rose’ which we learned (along with a lot more Rabbie Burns poems) at primary school in Scotland, the simple tune to which I’ve been humming gently ever since… ❤

O my Luve’s like a red red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June:

O my Luve’s like the melodie,

That’s sweetly play’d in tune’

Flower of the Day

Uncivil War…

Uncivil War…

Forever plagued by ‘should’ and ‘ought’

Self-discipline so firmly taught

Just leaves me feeling overwrought –

A battleground I never sought.

So rigidly it binds me tight

Held captive by the thought of ‘right’

Internally I feud and fight –

But can’t escape, try as I might.

A childhood foe in adult skin

Craves self-approval from within

While fearing judgement outwards in –

Uncivil war I cannot win…