Simply Saturday - As Time Strolls By

Let's make 2017
the most caring year ever

As Time Strolls By

Beating Time

Never trust one who keeps time

And chains it to belief

That losing seconds is a sin

That pausing silence, is a thief.

Never trust one who has no watch

To mind the passages of time;

Who notices nothing and can not keep

From the disasters of their crime.

Only trust those who savour seconds

Minute memories but keep the beat;

For they are the one who taunt what threatens

To pound their rising above defeat.  


From all at WildeHeads
We wish you a safe and healthy.

Sunday Sounds

Between Christmases

I aim a smile,

Baring teeth in greeting.

The return is fired

And ricochets around

The company assembled.

This is Christmas after all,

This is what we’ve been waiting for.

Across the walls yet more greetings,

Abrasively scratched cards

From relatives collected,

And seldom or never talked about friends,

And others hhardly ever known or met,

And here for a moment a sense of regret

Loiters with intent to do better.

Newcomers positioned on cushion laden seating

Are plied with traditional warming drink

And here we are ready

For the next thankful interruption from the door.

The procedure is fixed in tradition,

The routine ritual is old and needing updating,

The meaning lost.

Here I have gathered about me

Those who I knew much better

All of a month ago.

For then, between Christmases there dwell

Those I love.

Between Christmases at least

They have the Christmas spirit.

Sunday's Softly Settling

The Ghostly Crowned Thief

Skating blithely, 

Sliding, slyly

Crystalised snow shines bright.

Etched in filigree, 

Dusting the canopy

Carpets of frozen balm.

Ordained in a shimmering calm. 

Softly settling on petal and leaf

Winter huffs in like a ghostly crowned thief

Soothingly singing to freeze

Damaged life and severed decrees.

Hush up your frantic old fuss.

Slow now, and yet in a flush

Store what you can, and watch your own breath

Rise in a fog of laughter in gusts

Tinkling joy as onwards ice thrusts

Those who are weary 

Hear hush-a-byes cheery

See nothing but twinkling delight.

Friday Frosts

Closest Of The Close

Because they are friends,

I can take some space.

Because they are relations

I can walk away

And be myself for a while;

Buy you, closest of the close

Feel betrayed, take offence

Because I can not share

My need for some solitude.

Yet sometimes I need to be alone,

To realise and consolidate

All I have, have learnt and known;

To appreciate and mind

And remind myself of what it is to love

To find myself again and again

Beyond all doubt loved.

Closest of the close,

For all the world

I would not willingly hurt you,

Cause you pain

So say that you still love me

So I may return again.

Mel Dixon

Shiny Sunday

Catching Hold

Yes – love, love

For though we know it pains

Not to denies us the very best of all life’s richest gains.

Yes – hope, hope

For not to sullies days

Which otherwise would profit us in much more fruitful ways.

Yes – give, give

For not to kills us all

Taking can not cure us, nor prevent a fall.

Yes – trust, trust

For not to stifles hope

Making it impossible to give, to love, to cope.

Mel Dixon

Copyright remains with the author

Sun Set Sunday

Sunny Window Sunday

Wholly-Wolly, Howly-Owly, Wednesday

 

 

Moonbeam Dreaming, Monday Meaning

The Moonbeam

Into the frozen darkness

A shaft of blue

Fingered the walls

Silently crawled

Soft edged up the bed

Bathed the sleeper in its shroud

Kissed her head

Lingered for a moment or two

Closed her eyes

And ere its silken sheet withdrew

Caught her sigh.

REMEMBRANCE

"The correct response is silence"

Resurrections

It’s been a long time

Since I heard your voice

Ringing in my head –

A long time

Since the sky caved in

Announcing you were dead.

I welcome you but warily,

Fearing what you’ll say.

Gradually I’m comforted; assured –

You’re but a thought away.

Our daily vow through kinship changes

And just as when you were living;

Few seldom see our ranges

But we remain for giving.

Copyright WildeHeads

Saturday Senses

The Legacy

Though I don’t fully understand

I am proud of you;

Though you feel burdened by my expectations;

Despise my authority as having no worth or foundation,

Defy my demands on you as being irrelevant to your world –

Other worldly –

You are so like me.

You, my child are my legacy;

A future for this family;

In my image shaking

A product of my making;

In you I wanted to create

A better version than of late.

Copyright Mel Dixon

Eleven Eleven Eleven

Is This Love

Is this love that courts disaster

Spouts its woes and grievance shares

And in deceit claims be master

Over foulest vice and cares.

Is this poison that spills its gasping

Pouts its anger and feeds on glares

And in consumption fills its asking

Matching blows with artful flares.

Is this wisdom that speeds faster

Shouts its pain and sorrow wears

Lies and hits on poorer bastards

Salting sores that it still bears.

It is reason that shines past masking

Flaunts its gauntlet and risks its fares

And in its colours muted asking

Turns triumphant as its dares.

Copyright WildeHeads

Saturday Sparkers

Fragmentary Friday

Wistly Whispy Wittering Wednesday