Archive for the My Poetry Category

Poem ‘Orb Worship’

Posted in My Poetry with tags on April 13, 2013 by echostains

sun-24txty9

Even the shite shines golden,

You can see why the Druids were beholden

And the pyramids were hewn

From those beads of sweat

and

The swastika shrugged

Lest we forget

The worshipping of this eternal orb

That drenches our natures

And which we absorb.

Zorba the Greek danced on

whilst bright  Helios shone down,

Cruel and relentless

melting the wings of Icarus

and bringing him down to earth

With a bang.

Lynda M Roberts 2005

Poem: Kissing the air

Posted in My Poetry with tags , , , , , , on March 22, 2011 by echostains

How to air kiss

 This poem was written about this habit we have aquired of air kissing when greeting people.  It may well be healthier and less germ ridden than hand shaking (here’s the social etiquette for those who aren’t sure)

Liz Brewer, a social etiquette expert on ITV’s Ladette to Lady, says a single air kiss next to a friend’s cheek was the most acceptable for the British: “It is important to go for the right cheek, as that way you are greeting each other heart to heart… If you go for the other cheek it is less friendly.”

She says the air kiss is best for people you don’t know well as there’s no contact – but for the very confident there is the two-cheek option.

It’s the false sentiment behind this air kissing that I have a problem with – and it’s that’s which inspired this poem.

Kissing the Air

Complacency props up this world

As effortlessly it sighs.

Disguised concern yawns unfurled

Underneath the lies.

Life’s an overstuffed easy chair,

An affectation beyond compare,

A big pretend of love and care –

Kissing the air.

  

Sophistication puffs us up

And fills our sails with wind.

Our stiff yet honest awkwardness

Flies loosened and unpinned.

Mouthing platitudes we don’t share,

Twisting our smiles whilst feeling despair,

 Blinded by duplicitous glare –

Kissing the air.

 

One cheek or two? we start to fret

As we approach our prey.

Caught in this mindless etiquette

In which we have to play.

Meaningless words which go nowhere,

Playing our game of solitaire,

United by the guilt we share –

Kissing the air!

 

©L M Roberts 2011

Quote from here image from here

Poem ‘I could sit in a chair all day’

Posted in My Poetry with tags , , , , , , on February 4, 2011 by echostains

Wouldn't mind sitting in this chair...

Here’s another of my ‘experimental’ poems.  Definitely more of a performance piece than static (see the irony) poem. I wrote this the other day, funnily enough as I was sat in a chair 🙂  I was thinking about all the stuff that I really should be doing and thinking to myself “well, it’s no good sitting here – there’s too much to do….” when inspiration stopped me in my tracks from doing anything but write about me sitting in a chair all day! 

I could sit in a chair all day,

I could sit in a chair and get carried away

Just sat in a chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair all day

I could sit in a chair and rant and moan

I could sit in a chair and cry into the phone

As I sat in my chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair and cry.

I could bring several tears to a plexi glass eye,

And still sit in this chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair all day,

But my worries and cares would not melt away,

If I sat in that chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair all day,

Until doctors came in and took me away.

‘Cos I sat in a chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair all day

And weep with regret as my life slowly froze

I could sit in a chair all day

As silvery cobwebs covered my clothes,

I could sit in a chair all day.

 

I could sit in a chair all day

‘Til my limbs ceased up and withered away,

‘Til my mouth went dry with nothing to say,

‘Til my heart and my blood turned a dull shade of grey

As I sat in that chair that had turned into me

And myself became glued

And I couldn’t get free

And my eyes became leather

And now couldn’t see

Me

sat in this chair all day!

©Lynda M Roberts 2011 

Thanks to Vincent Van Gogh for the use of his chair (the image from here)

Poem – Please Mind the Gap

Posted in My Poetry with tags , , , on January 15, 2011 by echostains

Piccadilly Station Manchester

I was reading a post last year called ‘The Janitor’ by Bendedspoon on her excellent blog and no. 6 on the list really made me think. 

6. LEAVE A LEGACY. It doesn’t matter if you live 2 thousand years or twenty. What matters is how you fill the space between the dates on your gravestone. Let your wisdom live and multiply in each life that you touch.

It made me think about the the space between our birthdate and our deathdate  – our lives. ‘Please mind the Gap’ is a warning issued on the London underground before boarding the train.  It’s also a metaphor for the many pitfalls we encounter on our journey throughout life.

Please Mind the Gap

 

From conception to womb –
Please mind the gap..
From cradle to spoon –
Please mind the gap!
From totter to school –
Please mind the gap!
From childhood to fool –
Please mind the gap
from fool to regret –
Please mind the gap
From dawn to sunset –
Please mind the gap
From happiness tears –
Please mind the gap
From wilderness years –
Please mind the gap
From faith to despair –
Please mind the gap
From substance to air –
Please mind the gap
From health to old age –
Please mind the gap
From epic to page –
Please mind the gap
From daylight to night –
Please mind the gap
From blindness to sight –
Please mind the gap
From deafness to grasp –
Please mind the gap
From shouting to gasp –
Please mind the gap
From labours last test –
Please mind the gap
To lifes final rest –
Please mind the gap!

©2011 Lynda M Roberts

To ‘mind the gap’ a little too much and not take any chances at all in life would result in a pretty boring and  unfulfilling existence .  But would we be ‘safe’?  Not necessarily, fate has a way of filling those gaps when and with the unexpected…..

Poetry Challenge ‘The Hepworth Echo’

Posted in ALL MY POETRY CHALLENGES, Inspiring poetry, My Poetry with tags , , , on January 9, 2011 by echostains

This challenge could prove to be a real challenge as it takes an  abstract form of sculpture as its source of  inspiration.  But what are thoughts – if not abstractions?   and where does inspiration come from anyway?  The challenge is to write a poem or Haiku about what I have entitled ‘The Hepworth Echo’ – using your own creative voice as the echo.  You can use any of Hepworths pierced sculptures pictures as a prompt (there are many) or just write about what you think the above pierced sculpture is trying to convey.  This could be a message from the past, a prediction for the future, what you think lies within the space or even what you think the artist or the actual sculpture is saying.  The poem can be serious, humourous, short or lengthy.  If you are stuck for inspiration or don’t know much about Hepworth and her sculpture, just go over to my Echostains blog and have a look at these posts;-

Happy Birthday Barbara Hepworth!

A Cornish garden of hidden delights – the Barbara Hepworth Museum Cornwall

Please note;-

The idea behind the challenges is to publicise Bookstains  is as well as having creative fun, so therefore it is imperative that the poet link to Bookstains to further the challenge.

 In return the poem is copied to the challenges particular page which is open indeffinitely and the poets own website mentioned with a link and the poem critiqued on not only Bookstains but also on the poets own blog or website.

 If you wouldn’t put the poem on your own blog, please don’t send it to mine and expect me to promote it.  This is a genuine challenge – so please play fair:-

Original image from here 

Our first contribution is a Haiku from Steve (Heed not Steve) whose blog is full of poetry, amusing musings and other goodies awaiting your delight!

breezy hammock
swaying to hula strains –
coconut dreams

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2011

 

The next Haiku is by Jessica from Jessica’s Japes, a lovely blog which includes poetry and prose – very lively, please look!

Lonely voice forlorn

Eternal repetition;

Narcissus drooping

 

© Jessica D’Angelo 2011

Our next contribution is a Haiku from Hames 1977.  His blog is full of the most profound and original poetry.  once read you will soon be hooked on this poet who I rate as one of the finest.  Please look 🙂

Outside looking in.

Thoughts pierce something unspoken-

silence taking shape

© Hames 1977

Next we have a fantastic poem by Adam Dustus – you really must check out his blog – and One Stop Poetry

The Serpent Coil

Fetal positioned squinting eyes
Beginning life shock—that burning light
Swaddled in newspaper sterility
Spinning backward, sleet rain, movie reels flipping
Maddening sway, she shifts her hips
Fool me blush and licking lips
In totem stockings run from pain
This living through
Your bit insane   

Metallic tasting molars
Tin foiled, tempered stealing
Collide in scope stains as
Color wheels spinning
Through imagined laughter of Goethe
Inspiration from Whitman
Lucky to be alive
Once again

Crawling clumsily through nothingness
Past streaming years, recalling anger, swallowed tears
Among the branded tracks & spineless backs
Wrenched in clutching sadness, shading leaves
Serpentine madness, mineral evergreen
Quivering half-bent upon bathroom floor
Eying grime, filth clings to belly
When the walls cave your heart
Unmoved, mind stirring
Forgetting all that past as learning
This lowly love
When song born again

Apple stands, seedless core
Black almond shaped smoker’s trache
Peeling back the serpent coil
Piano wire fangs puncture
Harp string strung out desire
Reddened to appeal, bon appétit
Search to feel when incomplete
These corrosives kill
Through core of earth
Our sphere surreal
Until dusk from birth

©Adam Dustus 2011

I love seeing how diverse and how  original and imaginative we all are!  Here’s another wonderful take on the Hepworth echo – its from 47whitebuffalo.  You must check out her blog – it’s full of her original art, poetry, music and political issues and much more:-)

swift circular motion
same entrance exit
wounds clean inside out
bullets irony
human lives
coyote dies
life cycle echo

©47whitebuffalo 2011

I am really loving this challenge!  So many individualistic and original poems!  Here’s another take on the Hepworth Echo – and its yet another a fab one:-)  It’s by gospelwriter whose blog Turtle Memoirs is a poetical delight – please be sure to visit 🙂

Heart of Harmony

oh if these strings
were flexible, alive and finely-tuned
I could play you an air
would
melt your gut,
echo eternal overtones of heart,
a melody heard fleetingly in youth,
now long neglected in pursuit
of fickle tangibles

what would you?
be wished away for what they think you’re worth,
or alive again, for what they knew you were?

©gospelwriter 2011

I have just recieved another wonderful poem for this challenge from Eelco Bruinsma who has a wonderful cultural blog called Thoughts and Things  –  well worth looking at1

” It might be mathematical
… Highly unlikely

It could be psychological
… But only slightly

Turned upon itself, like a suicidal wasp
A blind soothsayer, injecting its venom
With the strings of its harp right through its exoskeleton.

Obviously!

The messenger has killed himself.

But then …

It surely must be mythological
… quite rightly.

Certainly not!

Since it clearly derives
From Greek Tragedy
It is tragedy enshrined
In an endless cabinet
Not a chest, but a chestnut,
White on the inside, wooden on the outside,
Like, …
….

By God almighty!

It’s a coffin!

The organic form,
The Apollinic nut,
The finish, the refinement,
The Sybillic enigmatic sign,

It’s a string-bearer,
A bearer of Truth and Falsity,
A proposition

It’s sheer logic,
… occurring only nightly. “

©Eelco Bruinsma 2011

Poetry Challenge ‘The Art of Progress’

Posted in ALL MY POETRY CHALLENGES, Inspiring poetry, My Poetry with tags , , on November 30, 2010 by echostains

connoisseur by Norman Rockwell

  Adam Dustus who has a wonderful poetry blog kindly suggested a poetry challenge which featured this painting – The Coinnoissoir’ by Norman Rockwell.  I have called the challenge ‘The Art of Progress’ because of the corresponding post I wrote over on Echostains – which also provides a link for this challenge. Clicking any of the paintings will take you over there to see what I’ve written about this painting and the other two – and why I think they represent ‘progress’.  The challenge is to write a poem or Haiku about ‘progress’.  You can use any of the pictures as a prompt or just write about ‘progress’ itself.  The poem can be serious, humourous, short or lengthy.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Railway Station by William Powell Frith, RA. 1862

 

Please note;-

The idea behind the challenges is to publicise Bookstains (as well as having creative fun) so therefore it is imperative that the poet link to Bookstains to further the challenge.

 In return the poem is copied to the challenges particular page and the poets own website mentioned with a link and the poem critiqued on not only Bookstains but also on the poets own blog or website.

 If you wouldn’t put the poem on your own blog, please don’t send it to mine and expect me to promote it.  This is a genuine challenge – so please play fair:-)  



 I wracked my brains trying to decide which painting to go with, but just couldn’t decide.  So, I thought I would just write  a short Acrostic poem about progress itself and what it means.  Sometimes progress is no such thing.  It can be two steps forward then two steps back – so in effect you can go all around the houses to end up in the same place!  Sometimes we over complicate the simplest of things – sometimes the old way can be the best. Sometimes the act of being seen to be progressing – progression for progressions sake can actually be destructive.

 Paving the way to a future uncluttered,

 Ripping down structures all boarded and shuttered

 Oiling the wheels of our Brave New World

 Gasping for air as through life we are hurled

Ringing the changes whilst wringing our hands

Eking existance in strange no mans land

Searching for new ways, disgarding the old

  Seeking the grail but finding fools gold.

©Lynda M Roberts 2010

 

Turner The Fighting Temeraire 1839

 

Jessicasjapes who has a wonderful poetry and prose blog has contributed this poem based upon Frith’s painting ‘The Railway’ Thanks Jessica!

The Railway Station by William Powell Frith 1862.

I stand on the station,
my eyes assaulted by the throng:

The fretting lady, flushed and hyperventilating,
begging with unladylike candour,
a loved pet dog to carry onboard,
her remonstrances ignored by officious officialdom.

The bossy family, self centred and fraught,
hurrying behind a flustered porter,
luggage heaving en masse,
loyal wife dragging indulged children.

The foreign tourist, feigning ignorance,
reluctant to submit precious monies,
the cabbie insistent and world-weary,
outstretched hand insistent.

The brave warrior heroes, uniformed and disciplined,
fighting red-eyed mistiness,
parting loved ones for distant fields of fire,
love torn for country and family.

The wedding party, tearful with happiness,
wishing everlasting good fortune,
excited whispers deafened by announcements,
a bride departing for a new chapter.

The schoolboys, motherly embraced,
hiding embarassment and apprenhension,
a fresh scholarly challenge awaiting,
far from the warm bosom of home.

The professional criminal, outfoxed and undone,
restrained within a foot of freedom,
apprended in full view of tired wife,
a future apart within walls.

A railway scene in 2010?
No, a flashback memory of 1862.

Technology progresses,
People remain the same.

© Jessica D’Angelo 2010

 

Our third contribution is from turtle memoirs.  Please check out this wonderful creative blog!  The poem is called ‘Coinnoisseur’ and it is based upon the Rockwell painting. 

Call me a connoisseur of love.
I stand in front of modern paintings,
study them till eyes go thick with tears
and paint runs thin again—fast and faster
colour flows to colour back in time, now there
it is, no there, and there… and ever further back
to reconstruction of first moments, the big bang
of creativity that gives me now, this universe
before me. Outside of time I realize futility
in such thinking—how can there be start
or endpoint to what’s circular?

New eyes fit patchwork pieces back together.
I gaze in wonder at this painter’s perfect rendering of vision.

Where is the love the artist felt in painting?
Does it live in colour, easel, frame? Is it light
that shines now in my heart, a knowledge new,
this vision of my own?—All that and more…
A patchwork quilt of moments fuelled by
an inner flame lit long before we knew
the boundaries of time, now waiting
on our rediscovery of desire to keep
forever burning our love creations,
to pass forward, let them linger
in an other’s senses, light
another’s hearth.

©Turtle Memoirs 2010

Our fourth poem comes from Adam Dustus, poet, novelist  and graphic artist, Please take look at this interesting blog!

Standing in the Way 

 

Dignifying Respects
Paid dues to just remain
Such maddening illusion
Norm standing in the way

©Adam Dustus 2010

I Dwell in Miss Havisham’s House

Posted in ALL MY POETRY CHALLENGES, My Poetry with tags , , , on November 18, 2010 by echostains

        

 
 
 

Miss Haversham

 

I am trying to get an expression of light and dark – life and death into this poem.  Miss Havisham (Great Expectations) pays the young Pip money to see him play with her ward, the beautiful Estella. Well aware that the young boy is in awe of the girl, she watchs Estella, gaining satisfaction from the cruel way she has taught her to break hearts.  Miss Havisham, as she tells everyone, has no heart herself…..  Jilted at the altar when a young woman the old spinster sits in her dirty, dusty mouldering wedding dress.  No light is allowed to enter the rooms.  The wedding cake lies crumbling on the table – a home for mice.  Time has stood still.  This poem is written from an observant mouse’s point of view:-D

  

I Dwell in Miss Havisham’s House

No light shall enter here

Nor candlelight find the dark recesses

I watch, as she obsesses upon her past.

No future, and no hopes,

Just deaths decay awaits

Her nearing fate among the festering icing.

The clocks like sentinals, stand

With stiffened hands that staunch the years

Of dried up tears and pain

Loves lost refrain

Lies broken – creaking,

Whilst I remain in shadows, watchful, sneaking.

Coins for childrens laughter

Chink in vain against her frozen heart

That beats apart from this life and the next.

But cruelty has its grip

On youthful yearnings,

Snuffing out the candles of hopes celebrations.

Her icy heart shall spend it last

As fiery blast consumes her bygone lace

And shadows chase across that mouldering room

And join deaths gloomy choir

As flaming tongues conspire

With  ancient lace to form the tinder

To  her pyre

 

©Lynda M Roberts 2010

 

image from here with thanks!