After grey mists what….

 After  grey mists what…. 

In the startling beauty of seas wonders,

Pebbles   and  white  surf seeping inn and out

No longer  the  dead sea  but  sea shaping 

Your poetic throb tapping inner rhythm,

Grey drizzling mists, not mood spoiling, 

But taking you to sea’s  dizzy heights.

Grafting overnight and day’s shifts,

 Many a rolling over lobsters and dories

‘Grey mists unmindful, grey lurking,

Rolling over surface over and over again,

Sea joints, sharks and whales in their mirth,

A world of their own!

Wondering at the wonderful will of man

wandering over sea’s turmoil and sounds,

business  in  “grey  drizzling mists”,

fishing and trade going to dizzy heights

what if grey or white surf or mist

 it is happening, happening, in its own way.

After Guardian’s Poem of the week: Sleeping Out by Jane Routh

 After  Guardian’s Poem of the week: Sleeping Out by Jane Routh

 I did not believe in my instinct

nor the TV channel’s forecast,

came out for my own camping

 to view stars  and firmament;

Nature  and instinct fail us 

We  follow  these not knowing

They are empowering us more;

A duvet only cover on me

Me dreaming  of poems 

flow out of my imagination

running like a river, river dream

on the open ground, though chill.

Stepping on my body  my improvised

Kitten mewing, perhaps escapism;

From the nearby home 

Day and night are the same

for inmates, me  dreaming

and composing my own way

what if it snows, when your 

pen and mood are invitatory

for a  different world;

Rat

 

• Rat

 

Silent hide amidst plastics

and food particles,  your bits and bites

and parcels of valuables,

you are reigning king for the day;

 

 until a repulsive smell or chance look,

 sound of utensils, tumbling

  from corner to corner,

 catch the note of wary eyes

 

 of  the mistress  of the house

chasing, holding her breath,

rat equally agile in slipping

and climbing atop the cupboard,

 

by the time you search

for a stick long or small

 a mystery shrouds in and around

whereabouts of the nuisance;

 

preventive rat nets or barbed wire

your immediate search for  the

avoidance of these  pets, your comfort

or necessity for your home.

 

 

 

 

 

Rat

 Rat

Silent hide amidst plastics

and food particles,  your bits and bites

and parcels of valuables,

you are reigning king for the day;

 

 until a repulsive smell or chance look,

 sound of utensils, tumbling

  from corner to corner,

 catch the note of wary eyes

 

 of  the mistress  of the house

chasing, holding her breath,

rat equally agile in slipping

and climbing atop the cupboard,

 

by the time you search

for a stick long or small

 a mystery shrouds in and around

whereabouts of the nuisance;

 

preventive rat nets or barbed wire

your immediate search for  the

avoidance of these  pets, your comfort

or necessity for your home.

After Guardian’s Brumby's Run by Banjo Paterson

 

After  Guardian’s  Brumby's Run by Banjo Paterson

 

 

         They are  a special lot,

         reared by their kind special  master,

         run  high, jumping far  beyond rules,

         straight and high reaching mounds

         and  fields, races of course no need

         to mention, hoofs resounding

        a rhythm unique to the listener

        all times, irrespective of  his tension.

 

       The green and lawn

       Soft  and lushful ,

       Unmindful of sickle  and  sieve,

        accommodative  and supple

        never mind the  pain

       of hoofs and plods

       for that is the  nature

        of Nature’ s  vast and wide.

 

         Ride is pleasure and fun,

         Run is pain and ruin,

        The  stock love to return

         Owner proud to retain.

 

After Guardian's owl

 

After Guardian’s owl

 

After all gunshot and bloodshed

bitter and sway, struck by hunger

and agony of separation from home

cold creeping for days yet body

withstood the bitter chill pouring

from outside; only undaunted will

stands like a steady rock in   your sway;

 

restive in war field, curled like paper

rolls swaying and swept by powerful force,

lack of sleep driving his spirits,

a cry from wilderness, ominous

yet with some redeeming positive

faith nullifying his apprehension;

owl or resounding echo from above,

 

  he is yet to know; a voice or vision

 appears in cheering mood, he is safe

amidst turmoil and many a dying

into cankerous death  and doom;

stench  and stink cutting their energy

while he smells of rose  and bloom

when buds  into romance  and redemption.