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

Wol Wednesday

Shaun Scops

Simple Sunday

Sunday Springshine

Sad Saturday - Hurt and Injured

 

Saturday's Singular Shorts

Swish Brush

(For when you're in a rush!)

Some of these look like a snow flurry
Cos nature is sometimes in a hurry!

Also useful for theatrical play
Or so I saw a few times today.

Talented Tuesday - International Women's Day

The Nature of Woman

I am your sister, your wife and your lover

I am your daughter; I am your mother

When anger consumes you with bitter regard

I’ll sustain all your blows though they hit hard

And thank you for the knowledge that you do still care

For I am your friend and will always be there.

For I am your sister, your wife and your lover

I am your daughter; I am your mother

For I will still hold you when you’re in despair

And show you forgiveness for faults that we share

I’ll harbour no grudges; but be cruel to be kind

In the hope that we retain the love that we find.

For you are my brother, my husband, my son

You are my father – through love we are one.

Cinderella Has A Lot To Answer For

If as girls, we’d never heard of Cinderellas

As women we’d find less fault with fellas!

Friday Festivities

Tickle Brush Tuesday

Myosotis Monday

Tremulous Tread

Tread with even walk, careful mindful step

Upon this solemn sacred hour

For upon rock of stone storm harden swept

Thrusts the crush pressings of this flower.

See it (if you will) nod to kiss swift passing feet

Against the ludicrousies of power;

Its delicate opening is brief, is fleet

Now come to incident in its bower

Miniatured but complete.

This is no accident of time to devour

This frond of blossoming is mine

For found tremulously crowned

Is this moment where pain and joy meet

In a tiny triumphant flower.

*

Fiercesome Friday Freaks

The Spider and The Fly 

Caught in flight

The fly learns plight,

Held by the finest of threads

Endangered by its flaying.

If it moves, the spider in its web

Feels the music of a meal playing.

Timing;

Cautious moves measured

Could mean its release

From that intricate woven pleasured

Ensnaring beast.

Tension;

Like the web itself, could last forever

But only one of them will prove clever.

*

The Dumbledore

The bumblingly busy dumbledore
Did blithely, but politely implore,
Pray tell me, then when you last heard or saw
A dozing bee that boomed a snore!

*

Mothballed Myths

It's not only owls that in the night
Flit silent in furtive flight
A fable and near myth
Of mothic magic caused a tiff
That one flew in the day
To the sun there to stay.
Well, there might have be one
But me deare, come, come -
For how ridiculous and absurd
Moths came afore that bird.

Thursday Training