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.

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

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.

Unsung Sunday Song

Battle Plans At Dawn

The birds report in evening song

Rabbits confer in fields

And as the day distills ere long

Descends a blanketing shield.

 

“Calm now, rest” whispers Nature,

“From the ravishes of man,

We’ll begin again tomorrow,

To salvage what we can.”

Friday's Fools of Twits Whoo-Whoo

Fusby Foozle

Fusby Foozle was a complete and utter doozle

He worn a striped shirt when he set out to work

And dabbed his paint stick on his snoozle.  

A felonious twit who swquarked a fair bit

Which hardly found favour or perk

He sits in a cage in a terrible rage

Unless fed all the day - what a berk!

Flirty Fleer

Fastidious Flirty Fleer
Would preen herself and sneer
At any who would feather fluff her day
Though sharp and very glam
Twas all mere toot and flam
But impressive all the same, that display.


 

Thursday Tales: Life's Lyrical Limericks

For St Patrick's Day

Squire Bully Billy
Had a temper quite silly
And eyes that would narrow in fits;
Yet laugh from a distance
you'd soon not care tuppence -
This goat would but butt out his nits.

Lady Anna Conda
Would side wind to wonder
If temperatures were to her taste.
When sun basking noon tide
She longed to be best guide
For rodents she'd dine with in haste.

Baron Vamp Batty
Was always so chatty
At night, but never by day.
He'd often play host
To many a ghost
While hid, headside down,
As they say.

Tiny Turtle Tim
Adored a long swim
And would flap, very tired on the beach.
So he'd roam the lone seas
For years at a breeze
Twixt just the right ones he could reach.

Brunty de Boar
Found life such a chore
Snuffling and snorty in fog.
But happy this pig
Who'd not give a fig
When covered in mud in a bog.

Incognita Iguana
Often said 'Manana'
As daily she'd adjust her face.
One eye for detail
The other, in retail
For fashions do change at a pace.

Ethel Lump-Hants
Has noisy nosey pants
Trumpeting toots rather grand,
And down 'neath her toes
Some vibrations arose
She started a Tusk-Nosey, the band.

Fridays Foolish Frights

Contentment

Contentment,

(Rarely obtained and never sustained)

Is ticking along

Oblivious to the monotony

That one is party to.

Listen

Yes, I have something to say;

Important.

But until I can shape the form,

Mouth the thoughts

I shall remain silent

Or just talk aimlessly instead –

Went shopping today.

Met John.

He had nothing to say either;

Just like the shop assistant, the bus driver,

The cashier at the bank and the park keeper.

So I went home, made myself a cup of tea,

And tried to cheer myself up with an iced bun,

But winced.

Made an appointment for the dentist,

More fillings I think;

Then I sat down again and thought;

Tried to shape the words,

Form the feelings.

Still nothing much to say;

But I’d like someone to listen,

To hear my silence.

Choices

The decision 

That placed thought

And settled doubt

Led to foreign choices 

All of a thought ago

Entangled options entwine

To weave their intricate tapestry;

Behind all futures spread

Trails of precarious thread.

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!

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.

Stories for Sleepy Sundays

The Angel's Holiday

It is a little fact about angels that they get very tired indeed

What with moans and groans from adults and little ones always in need.

They have nothing but magical twinkles and smiles and wonderful wings

And songs of hope and enchantment and an armoury of mysterious things.

The fairies of course assist them but have to have wands and learn spells

And sometimes their blooms are bamboozled by mischievous pixies and elves.

And then there’s the trolls, and the dolls and the sprites,

The toys for the boys and box of bright lights

it can all be quite dazzling but very brain frazzling so at sleep-tide
here’s what they do...

They sprinkle it all and dream of a time when they can just holiday too.

And in their sleeps, the magic's deep
And new spells form to heal
For starlets form as that's the norm
Of secrets nightly deal.