Muse…
I’d love to feel artistic every day
Portray my world in sweet poetic rhyme
Write wistful words to bat the blues away
Syllabic sounds set comfortably in time
Draw inspiration from the daily grind
Paint out a life that’s filled right to the brim
With images that sparkle in the mind
In colours bright instead of greys so grim
But harsh reality strips all veneer
Of happiness inspired by fun and play
However hard I try it seems quite clear
I’m simply not created in that way
My world feels dulled with misery and gloom
As dark clouds of depression fill the room…
Tag: sonnet
Scottish Soup: A Sonnet

My Scottish senses love the cooking smell
Of soup that starts with deeply smoked ham hock
Boiled up with split red lentils, seasoned well
Traditional good food from fresh-made stockOr leek and tatties make the perfect base
With chicken bouillon, carrots, onions too
Add herbs and salt and pepper judged to taste
A little milk to finish – that’ll do!Pearl barley thickens broth like fattened rice
With cheap-cut beef and root veg simmered low
Soup fills you up at such a decent price
Well-blended flavours make your tastebuds glowA bowl of love with thick-sliced bread to eat
Now that’s a hearty dinner hard to beat ❤
I know I never seem able to get the hang of writing really Terrible Poetry, but I’m joining in anyway cos I really love this week’s prompt of a sonnet written about soup – what fun! 🙂
April A-Z: P is for Poetry

Poetic Thoughts…
In school we learned short poems off by heart
Recited them in front of everyone
With practiced voice I happily took part
The lure of poetry had now begun
I loved the way the words flowed out in rhyme
When spoken or heard silent in your head
Pentameter helped keep a measured time
Gave cadence to the way they must be read
In later years I favoured free verse style
Restrictive frameworks left out in the cold
But poems lost their way after a while
I missed those tight-knit rhythmic rules of old…
Now structured formats once more set clear pace
And syllables slot neatly into place… 🙂
Life events have conspired to pull me away from blogging over the last couple of months, and the idea of taking part in this year’s April Blogging from A-Z Challenge seems like a good way to try to get back into the habit of reading and posting regularly. Originally I thought of just using any old random words to go with the particular letter of the day, but realistically without a clear theme to work towards I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my focus for a full month… So instead I’ve opted for a relatively simple, if slightly self-indulgent work-around: This year I’ll be posting 26 things about me, nothing too taxing to write about yet still fulfilling the brief!
Jane Austen’s Heroines
With perfect language, carefully polite
Jane Austen’s heroines all hold their own
Societal conventions bind them tight –
Behave as ought or reputation’s flown.
In modest clothing, virginal, demure
Sweet innocence, with countenance so chaste
Correctly dressed they sit, erect and pure
All model females of the human race.
But underneath blood flows through passioned veins
Romantic love remains their heart’s desire
They will not settle for a lesser gain
Good friendships set their marriage beds on fire…
With sweaty limbs entwined in crumpled sheets
Jane Austen’s heroines find life complete…
The inspiration for this poem came from Chelsea Owens ‘Terrible Poetry Contest’ which this week asks for a sonnet about a period/ historical romance. However it seems I find it too difficult to deliberately write a bad poem – I mean, my poems might be bad, but I don’t think they are truly terrible in the way Chelsea wants them to be! Still, inspiration is inspiration, so there we go, and at least I tried… 🙂
The Waiting Game…
Impatiently I clock-watch, counting time
Each taunting tick precise, accentuates
Reality like slow motion sublime
With bated breath in-drawn, exaggerates
I feel my heart-beat loudly fill my chest
With rhythmic regularity at base
Internal cadence pulsing without rest
As in-built metronome increases pace
Distressed, I try my best just to distract
My mind from life-blood pounding fast and fleet
But can’t escape the solid soundless fact
This ‘now’ exists, exquisitely complete
The time has come where I can only wait
Till time itself unfolds, reveals my fate…
Home

Home…
A nineteen thirties bungalow in style
Mock-Tudor boards on double-fronted bays
Old paint-peeled rendered walls that made me smile
And fall in love in oh-so-many ways
Its shabby chic and part-neglected air
Called out to me to make this house my own
Look far beyond its age without a care
Ignore its dated décor overtone
And now we live together in this space
Eclectic symbiosis oft appears
Where partial changes slowly taking place
Bring modern touches to the faded years
I love the way the blend of old and new
Creates a loving home for me and you… ❤
Fifty Seven and Counting
My fifty-seventh birthday is today I just can’t help but ponder growing old Retirement is one short decade away I picture what my future life might hold Imagining myself in years to come No longer working for my daily crust I’ll potter in my garden just for fun And spare some time for housework if I must But hopefully my hobbies will expand To fill my days with things I love to do Creatively I’ll find my promised land Artistically I’ll flourish through and through I look ahead to far horizons clear A distant ageing world that holds no fear…
Going Viral…
Going Viral…
Coronavirus takes us to the brink
Of madness as we panic-buy in fear
Like animals we act on base instinct
Protect the family we hold so dear
Across the globe the virus does its worst
Infection spreads with total disregard
As all humanity feels sorely cursed
The death toll rises, hits whole countries hard
First plagues of locusts, now this pestilence
With biblical proportions swarms the land
Man’s arrogance, so selfish, so immense
Reduced to nought by nature’s sweeping hand
With no immunity, the human race
Must meet this deadly virus, face to face…
Emotional Oblivion
Emotional Oblivion… If only I could capture how it feels Describe destructive passions as they rise Record their tightening grip with strength so real Write down in words my silent, strangled cries. Such visceral sensations surge and fall Emotion sickness, writhing hard and fast Internally I cannot think at all So overwhelmed by feelings, urgent, vast… But then the raging storm inside runs still And empty spirit, hollowed out, bereft Of every sense and feeling, waits until A germ of hope can heal whatever’s left. For now with heavy heart and soulless sigh Emotional oblivion creeps by…
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… ❤