Readers' Poetry

By Cotswold Life on June 10th 2010

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Members Comments

  • Comment by: wigs 17 August 2010 - 18:25

    Summer's Fallen....

    grass shimmers
    in morning mist
    dew escapes
    as autumn has kissed
    just lightly enough
    to make us aware
    summers end
    is drawing near
    trees droop
    laden with fruit
    leaves adorn crispness
    tinged with sadness
    birds gather and circulate
    before making their escape
    hotter climes beckon
    before winter awakens
    memories of summer
    in minds linger
    a smile recalls
    the last sun
    before it falls
    as evenings draw in
    like a blanket of softness
    in the space of no time
    we’re shrouded in darkness
    trees stripped bare
    yawning
    and
    inhaling
    the crisp morning air
    another summer has fallen
    to the smell of autumn


    written 17 August 2010
    Helen Wiggins

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  • Comment by: jennydarren 23 August 2010 - 23:33

    Two Spiders

    Two spiders
    In the corner
    Holding hands

    Four inches
    Apart they
    glide

    He leading
    Her following
    Him up
    Into the
    High corner

    Together they
    Dance their
    Jig a jig jig

    Circus acrobats
    High wire acts
    With no safety
    Net at all

    And if they fall
    If they collide
    Into each other
    Side by side

    2

    Their tiny hearts
    May crack and break

    Shatter
    Like a china jug

    Two spiders
    I watch them
    Moving
    Listening to their
    Quiet dance

    Just two spiders
    Dancing
    As only they can

    Two spiders falling

    F
    A
    L
    L
    I
    N
    G

    Madly in love


    June 29th 2004

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  • Comment by: jennydarren 23 August 2010 - 23:37

    He's gone

    He's gone
    but he's still around
    been gone thirty years
    turns up on the outward bound

    And he's different
    but he's here
    and he sure looks a lot like
    Richard Gere

    A different girlfriend now in tow
    he never managed to just 'go'
    he's here, but then again he isn't
    he's changed

    you can take it as red
    he's Mr thirty years later
    Alive....but he's dead
    and if he's better dead
    better go to bed
    & rest your head

    I want to tell you
    that you haunt my days


    05/03/10

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  • Comment by: jennydarren 23 August 2010 - 23:41

    My life

    This was my life she said
    The slow dragging darkening of days
    That came and went up until now

    It was the length of them she thought
    They seemed to take forever
    To come and go
    And all that wasted time
    Time to remember
    Time to look back
    In anger in fear

    Where did they go then the years
    When I went to bed a young girl
    And woke up an old woman?
    There seemed only a curtain between them
    Precious years spent on men
    Years spent just missing them
    And getting over them
    The thick cloud of fogging memory
    Where hardly one of them
    Would get to me now
    Or waste my days

    Long black days of sleeping
    And worrying over money ‍Was this then my life
    That should have been so very dear?
    And if someone should ask me this question
    At the end the very end
    I would say that once long ago a tiny girl
    Held up a star within her hands
    And never even knew it had gone

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  • Comment by: freerider 31 October 2010 - 00:37

    I'm no Marco, but ...


    I'm standing beside my bowl of eggs,
    Beating them with great care,
    I've added salt , some herbs and pepper -
    I think chefs call it 'flair'.

    All the while the pan has heated,
    Gently on the hob,
    As I've added milk and some butter -
    Half a glass and just a knob.

    I fish around inside a drawer,
    Looking for a utensil,
    With its wooden handle and solid shaft,
    It's a spatula made of metal.

    In to the pan I pour my eggs,
    While turning down the heat,
    For I do not want to boil my mix,
    Or possibly burn the meat.

    Because there are many ways to cook an egg,
    Over 300 methods to make them,
    Scrambled, poached, boiled or fried,
    But I prefer mine with bacon!

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  • Comment by: EvelynOliver 12 July 2011 - 13:16

    BOREAS



    From somewhere to nowhere,

    More ancient than hills

    From something to nothing,

    The master of still



    Came whistling, all listless

    And shivering with chills

    To chance upon someone

    To sharpen his skills.



    He spied the old man

    In a field, and alone..

    So burnished a vortex

    And flew like a stone.



    He tousled his tresses

    And ruffled his cloak

    Then swung as a long scarf

    That started to choke



    The old man. Set stoic

    Stood firm, no release

    He knew what was coming

    And stiffened his knees.



    The wind was unhinged

    By so hearty and hale,

    And bared all the sharpened

    White teeth of his gale



    But then, as he started

    And death seemed so close,

    He lost what he thought of

    And skipped for the coast.



    To mingle with gull wings

    On cliff tops and coves,

    To hiss over wet rocks

    with frothing and foam.

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  • Comment by: hope_155 11 October 2011 - 21:40

    Men wander round these bright circles
    Their lives are the greatest mysteries
    First time in their loneliness
    They see their competition
    Shining alongside the lovers
    Resonating against a thousand abandoned fires

    The elders stalk the shadows
    That the youth have left behind
    Their wake pushes away tradition
    While revolutions attack the boundaries
    Left in a lawless mind
    Owned by a flawless criminal

    Try as they might
    They have never found
    A way into the brightness
    They fear
    But desire to find their lost souls
    Hidden away under their feet

    They cannot look there
    Fate will not let them
    The lovers they left
    To find a new way to love

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  • Comment by: Cleveland 13 October 2011 - 15:09

    'Dear Companion'

    I've often walked you at dawn, when it was the darkest hour. We had crossed the fields, felt the breeze as a new day came shining through. The keenness of the wind, so Coxwell true brings back those memories when together, my wet- nosed friend, you and I had had all the world to see. Up and up we went to tackle the hill, that Folly to soak our feet in the shimmering coldness of the morning dew. How can I thank you for what you meant to me, my thanks are but a drop in the ocean when they should be a million times larger than the sea. Thank you my faithful pet, for the tireless loyalty you have given me through the years, and when I hold your collar and lead I cherish them, I can't help myself, with many a shake of the head and a quiet tear flowing from eyes too old to see. My dear companion so ill but I'll remember you; I know I will.

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  • Comment by: Cleveland 24 November 2011 - 11:26

    Outside Love

    Oh! Cotswolds, your charm shows. You, I first
    met for moments only twenty years ago.
    Forever after rambling upon your body delights
    my city mind to forge a life-long attachment. Pal.

    I fear, I hear echoes,of your sabre-toothed winds,
    sweepings the hills, my face suffers also with
    such laughter lines of love, and perhaps that
    exquisite pain only lovers know. And it shows.
    In every fond return I enjoy the weather. Taunt.

    Long have I run my marathon dance around the
    circle of bluebells held in woody clumps,
    and then have strode down arrow straight lines of
    daffodils to the brink, where stretches a field in
    rich corn ears sometimes, but more often,
    covered in the silver delicate dew of the spiders'
    web. It is like heaven. Dearest wonderful soul.

    The early morning brings forth rewards, my mind drinks
    the oxygen laden air, and the stick in
    my hand prods the earth as if I were majestic,
    the owner of all of Nature's wealth. Inside I rejoice.

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  • Comment by: hkemmett 05 February 2012 - 15:44

    TIME PASSING

    My teenage birthdays came and went.
    On fun and games I was intent:
    A quiz, some dancing, Postman's Knock,
    But best of all, a party frock.
    It seems that it was yesterday
    With all my young friends down the way,
    So now I'll jump up quick as light
    And fix a date this very night.
    But I can't find my miniskirt
    And anyway my joints all hurt.

    My sixieth has been and gone,
    An MP Player, CD-ROM,
    And mobile phone is what I got.
    I'll have to learn to use that lot.
    I'll go to night-school, adult lealrning
    And study with the nightlight burning,
    But not this week. I shall not rush
    For I must rest, I need some hush.

    The next decade will soon draw near.
    The past, my young days, are so clear.
    I feel like running, dancing still,
    Though tired limbs now lack the will.
    But when I dream about my youth
    It had its drawbacks, that's the truth.
    I had to do what I was told.
    Blow that, I say, now I am old.
    ©

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