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As always I am fascinated by how varied are the responses and interpretations of a given prompt, in this case Ms. Weary’s Blues, January 24. No newcomers took up the challenge this time round but we have engaging – even intriguing – responses from Colin Blundell, bogpan, Paul Brooks, Kakali Das Ghosh, Renee Espriu, Sheila Jacob, Sonia Benskin Mesher and Anjum Wasim Dar.  Thanks to these intrepid and talented poets for coming out to play.

Please join us tomorrow for the next prompt. All are welcome no matter the status of career: novice, emerging or pro. It’s about showcasing your work, getting to know other poets and exercising the writing muscle. Meanwhile, enjoy these poems   …

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there’s one way

and another way
and a third way
of doing things; but it’s useful
to think of doing things

‘otherwise’ as the Master said in line with
what (gazing at the bridge of his nose)
his grandmother told him:
viz ‘in life never do as others do;

either do nothing—
just go to school—or do something
nobody else does’
when she promptly died…

this my children
and my children’s children
is what I would have you
take inside your uttermost being:

never go along with the herd;
never copy others; let your uprush
of learning be your very own
never dependent on others

Note: The Master = GIGurdjieff

(from my ‘The Recovery of Wonder’ 2013)

© 2013, Colin Blundell  (Colin Blundell, All and Everything)

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blue

and not to eternity the predefined will happen accidently
but to a cry
unheard and clear and the sermon that will BE
to shelter the torn off grains in the summer
the sunspots priest in the reflections
of the water
in blue

© 2018, bogpan Bozhidar Pangelov – (bogpan – блог за авторска поезия)

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Corpse Watcher

He tells me he watches corpses
and looks forward to mine.

Its the stillness, and sometimes
If you’re lucky the movement.

Only chemical but shocks.
I like the shocks.

© 2018, Paul Brookes  (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

Sunblaze

Sunblaze drinks thee pint as it were after doing thee a favour, stop thee brain box from wondering

an thy art beholden to it for doing so. Then mizzle sets on tummeling down, drizzles like it were making gourmet dish of the day with attractive swirls.

And ice cold thinks you owes it a living, serrates your bones like a decent knife sharp butcher

Who knows which cut hurts most and where to prolong the wound so it slowly bleeds out a sunset.

© 2018, Paul Brookes  (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

Suddenly The

Sky opened and closed
Earth darkened and glowered.
Ocean frittered and wittered.
Air garnered and hoary.

Child across the earth.
Teenagers stretch clouds.
Adults narrow seascape.
Aged pinpoint gust.

Travellers are still.
Homely explore vastness.
Refugees carry home.
Ghosts are solid once more.

© 2018, Paul Brookes  (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

The Book

When born he opened
The Book Of Everything
that had all the questions.

It was too much so he skimmed
chapters that didn’t seem relevant
until much much later in the book.

Later in life he closed
The book of nothing
That had all the answers

because it was too much effort,
to find his glasses put somewhere safe.

© 2018, Paul Brookes  (The Wombwell Rainbow, Inspiration, History, Imagination)

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#Lost My Blues #

Blues ,my measly blues pursued me
Emerging from the bottom of that grave gorge
Surging from the waves of that deep ocean
Sprouting from the storm of that black forest
Blues ,those insistent blues
never waved to me a song ,a farewell song
And followed me unto rocky mountains and flowing rivulets
Chased me to red plateaus
and dusty desserts
Halted I -where golden beams reflected from a broken mirror
Where a phoenix arose from its ashes
Where pearly rains oozed from a misty cloud
And where a scarlet dandelion peeped from a rocky chest
And by my astonishment
I lost my blues ……….
Footsteps of my measly blues —-

© 2018, Kakali Das Ghosh

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Silver Threads of Nature

I will leave you the peace in my soul
that will find you in the love of my heart

for I will leave you the memories shared
whether joyous dancing on the stage of life
or sadness fading in the shadows of day

for life has woven me a colorful garment
with silver threads of nature’s wisdom

that has hollowed out a place for you
where warm you will be in the sun’s embrace
followed by the path of a starlit moon

within which voices will sing in stardust
to lull you to sleep at the end of each day

where always you will wake to bird song
within which you will hear my voice true
giving you the peace within my soul
surrounded by the love within my heart

© 2018, Renee Espriu  (Renee Just Turtle Flight and Inspiration, Imagination & Creativity with Wings, Haibun, AR, Haiku & Haiga)

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Rites of passage

To you,earth,I leave my ashes.

To you,sky,my unfinished dreams.

To you, ocean, blown kisses.

And to you, wide world,
the very best of me
warm and alive.

Two daughters, one son,
already entrusted
when I birthed them years

ago into your light,
heard their first startled cries
on a March morning,

an August night, in May’s
early hours; watched
the midwife lift each

perfect body still plaited
to mine, gift-wrapped
and glistening with my blood.

© 2018, Sheila Jacob

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. we too shall die .

we have a memory or two. the world goes dark, we teach and learn, wait for light to appear

it is the way of things, while there are birds. while you read, you will not understand all words, that is the way of things.

it is natural, it is what they do, they live in the wild. . we have no power, they, no disgust that reels and kicks. yet while small birds live, they too will die. like us.

drift. in air, in words. symbols of poetry, cut and pasted. literally. naturally .

everyday tiny things sing.

when some small birds have failed and gone others sound just the same.

touched by the small things, softly, we drew

together

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

: side parting :

looking for a legacy

i find nothing / no words

no comfortable leavings

parting on the wrong side

can be painful

some hide secrets

i do not

we hope you will feel good

about pins

© 2018, Sonja Benskin Mesher (Sonja Benskin Mesher, RCA and Sonja’s Drawings)

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