In the quiet of a Sunday morning
Silently, I set the fire aglow;
catch up on the washing-up;
fetch a brew for my beloved
(who still sleeps);
and pander to the dogs’ needs
(Rosie the cat has already had her ears scratched).
The chill air gains a hint of warmth,
and all seems calm.
Soon, there are walks to be taken,
and pottering to be done;
but, that is soon,
and for this minute
I breathe in
and my heart is content.
A Paltry Day
Yesterday was easy,
two poems that nearly wrote themselves;
today is another kettle of fish entirely,
the muse hasn’t struck
(or maybe it is on strike)
and I am out of luck –
not a state I like,
being without an idea to work upon,
the next one queueing
for when the last one’s gone,
a line of ideas
aligned with my need,
oh, this is a day of scarcity,
a paltry day indeed.
Audio Link Below:
The Day, Today.
The radio is talking
the outside world seems to be on ‘mute’;
I pass from one realm to another.
A bird calls, is answered, responds accordingly.
Clouds scud across the sky, lazily following their heart’s desires.
The wind has gone AWOL;
but, will be back when its batteries are recharged.
The sun shines down weakly upon those seeking warmth – but, they remain chilled, only their minds are warmed.
I pass amongst the inhabitants of the Earth
and watch as they process their lives
in many valid ways.
I heard echoes of kettles
Boiling in a kitchen
I poured cold water
Upon the teabag of my dreams
And silently the tepid brew
I poured away life-giving liquid
And started again