DAISIES COVERING THE EARTH LIKE SO MUCH SNOW ...

 

Reminded am I, of ol' Langston Hughes,

And the poem he wrote called "Dreams";

Always awed with the depth of his views,

I became a dreamer of dreams.

And, dreams have since then kept me going,

It's dreams that keep dotage at bay;

And flowers are always a-growing

In dreams, on a cold winter's day.

In dreams I can steadily gaze

At the wonders of Nature benign,

And more: through the dark wintry haze, 

I discern all my blessings divine.

MUSINGS DURING COVID-19 LOCKDOWNS

 

Two little finches in a snuggle

Tell me life is worth the struggle;

Ne'er is it in vain we labour, 

Ample returns await our valour.

Two 

"Things" can never be the same

If you and I join in the game,

And, through the field of muck or mire,

Get our spirits up, afire.

And when the battle's done and won,

Oh! With the rising of the sun,

We'll soar yet again like the mighty eagle

And dare again to hug ... and snuggle.

AN ORCHID MYSTERY

Is this a mysterious orchid  

Or just an intriguing sea squid? 

Have a look at its tentacles, 

On of many Nature's spectacles, 

Or is it that Nature just flipped?  

Flipped, as on its own law it tripped

A fishy little thing on a plant?!

AN ODE TO METAL BIRDS

For metal birds I’d have never thought,

That proper words would e'er be sought

for poetic composition!

But on an urn did John Keats cry

And Blake, on "fearful symmetry",

Quest'ning with Powerful passion! 

Can we too ask if, when or whether, 

With birds of steel, so stiff of feather, 

A poem could e’er be urged?

They watch unseeing, the electric wire, 

which no words, e'en fleeting, inspire.

On the morning’s wistful shadows though, words splurge! 

 

Are these roses? For that's what I'd love

To smell along life's stints;

Oh, targets and aims, ambitions I have

With bruises, and fractures and splints,

But of this I am sure

When I shuffle off this tour …

 He'll ask if I smelt 'em or didn't!!

I would be wary

Calling that a canary

Cos I'm not so friendly with birds!

But if boards they would carry

Saying "Tom", "Dick" or "Harry"

I would certainly cry, "How absurd!"

For unknown they’d all like to be,

And care nought for or-n’-tho-lo-gy

They'll greet you each morning

With their chirping at dawning

Regardless of Doc Salim Ali!!

THE HALF-SMILE OF A LITTLE GIRL

The promise of a fine day dawning,

Hidden in a grey-haze morning,

And the half-smile of a little girl!

The memories of yesteryear,

The laughter, the occasional tear,

Flit off the half-smile of a little girl.

A half-smile is perhaps a token

Of pleasure or pain, mostly, unspoken,

But, mark you, it sets your mind awhirl.