So many different things can make us happy. This section’s poems were chosen to reflect some of the many times when I have felt joy sufficient to bubble over into poetry. I hope you enjoy them and have had feelings similar to these.
If you have written poems with similar stories or themes that you might like to share with others who visit my website do get in touch.
Snatches Of Beauty
This week, as April turns to May
my mind, camera-like, has snatched
at beauty, with hopes of storing images
in deep recesses of my mind
for future use, for restoration,
to bring me joy, especially when
the world turns grey again.
Bright white blossoms thickly clustered
(May flowers, hawthorn or cherry?)
at the entrance to a supermarket car park
on a littered-too-often lane
blossoms brighter as the light fades.
Tiny bodies of intricate insects
pointed out by expert friend
who sees these tiny creatures
more easily than I – sharing wonder.
Marvelling at long ‘horned’ antennas
blowing in the wind.
The golden-bronzed glow of sunlight
rippling on a smooth pond at dusk
swans and ducks settling on the surface
then gliding
at the head of peaceful wakes.
Black, bare, twisted trees in early evening
exciting the imagination as branches
stretch into the sky – like arms in ecstatic prayer
whilst trunks form shapes of witches, trolls, de-antlered deers;
raised roots – like men with legs akimbo striving to merge
into the ground – or emerging from it?
Ahhhhhh – the thrill of ‘safe’ horror ……
Then the birds –
Skylark soaring beyond sight one morning, to be lost in high grey clouds
its song ‘up-lifting’.
“My” lovely little robin – so unafraid
despite the dog (or worse) the cats
and a slim white egret which continues to tease my eye
at unexpected moments
as it skims along the almost hidden Ching.
Finally – an almost horizontal heron poised, still as a statue,
seeking fishes in the almost dark of an evening, lamp-lit
at Snaresbrook Pond.
Did other people notice?
Did other people see?
I saw true love tonight
I saw true love tonight
he a giant of a man
she a sylvan bough, still
both beautiful
e’en in age.
I see him now, ably striding up high hills
skipping effortlessly
sheer joy personified
the years defying.
I hear her speak in joyous tones
of mountains climbed, places seen
in summers sun and winters wind
in spring and autumn’s variability
inspiring.
I saw true love tonight
as two people sat hand over hand, joined gently
whilst around them, in their peace
hummed a hubbub of chattering people
a waterfall of white noise
not listening.
But I saw true love tonight
and felt it
as it filled the room with glory
and beyond.
Full Moon Hidden
There is a full moon tonight
but I can’t see it
hidden behind deep grey cloud
blanketing the sky
yet its tug keeps me awake
asking for the praise
of poetry
for in my mind’s eye
I am not blind to its beauty
in my imagination
I feel its surge of joy and pride
Life goes on, Pam, life goes on
and you are strong enough
to love it.
Rejoice.
Sometimes a restless night can be happy …… and creative?
Unseasonal lashing rain wrapping trees fiercely
wind tossed old autumn leaves racing
flying swooping falling
gusts and splashes.
We hide (fortunately)
sprinkled lightly
by drips sneakily slipping
through gaps in the roof
of the green cemetery shelter.
Having fun in Spring
Having joy in rain.
Little Waves
Little waves come rolling
all along the shore
yet still they come up suddenly
and make me ask for more.
Little waves are cheeky
take me by surprise
when I look the other way
they bring sparkles to my eyes.
Little waves are lovely
especially in joy’s sun
when we dance in them together
life certainly is fun.
Little waves are mysterious
shall I tell you how
there’s a bigger wave behind them
and then you know – it’s WOW!
A “two-level” poem for me – I wonder how many people can guess the less obvious level?
Mummy’s Ear
Dear child on the tube
and loving mother with tender, tired, eyes
how much you moved my heart
today.
Child, sucking determinedly on your bottle
eyes fixed on me as if I might suddenly steal it
(Now – would I?)
Small arm stretches out
for mummy’s curls
and lodges there, holding on.
Comfort zone, security, love.
I am catapulted back through years
to my own child
my own time of baby’s love.
I live again the love in memory
my son reborn a child
just for a moment
and myself
a mother much loved
shown in his touch
his loving touch
of the mole beneath his mummy’s ear.
My “baby” is now in his early 30s ….. so when I saw that baby on the tube I was “taken back” many years. Glad to say he still loves his mum …….
Blue Touch Paper
You lit the blue touch paper
and blew away my equilibrium
dust of years scattered in sudden sunlight of surprise
sparkling
amazement in a kiss.
I had forgotten, forgotten
tingling in tiny veins suffusing every nerve
delight-full
passion re-awakening.
Now I remember, remember
togetherness in touch
each to each giving
evoking
wish for intimate communion
between two bodies
between two souls.
This is a “falling in love” poem – written after a very long gap between relationships. Alas, it didn’t last long but it was, at the time, delightful.
Coming home
Sand beneath my feet
crunching under thick soled sandals
afterwards, sliding between bare toes
as I walk forward.
The sound of the sea
an almost imperceptible hum
gradually changes as dawn lightens
as waves find their voice.
Closer now, the sea dribbles over the shore
rivulets deepen vine-shaped patterns
as tide drags water back, back, back
back to its deepness
back to its heart.
Bare feet at last wading in water
caressing, in-out strokes tickle gently
coordinated surges pattern sounds
creating water rhythms.
Inexorably, sound overwhelms thinking
hypnotism by sighing vastness
echoed in whispers of breakers
folding over on themselves.
Body sighs in pleasure, wave-tuned
as mind releases troubles, heart knows peace now
now it has come home
home to the sea.
The exercise was to write a poem about the sea. I love the sea. Does it show?
Emotions
Emotions
flutter like a flock of linnets rising
swiftly, briefly
a startled dance of impulsive harmony.
Memories, feelings, thoughts intertwine
touch
side of thumb firmly massaging chin, cheeks and lips – external kisses
music
arias stimulating heart and soul – visualised screen-pulsed rhythms shared
smell
more imagined than real – scented skin of body, hands and fingers
Emotions which once engaged cannot be divorced from sensual reality
however hard I try
however sensible it would be to do so.
Emotions
which retreat, just as suddenly as they came,
to hide in thick tufted grass
after short dazzling flight.
Emotions!
Still not sure this one is “finished” or whether it will make any sense to anyone but me.
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