contemporary poetry
Poetry – My Life
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 10, 2013
Poetry – My Life
I’m in a moment on my own, just thinking how the years have flown
I ask myself what have I done – that’s brought a change to anyone
The answer comes in very clear, the one thing that I hold so dear
My friends tell me I have a gift that always gives their lives a lift
I write, and when I’m in that space, there is no other time or place
I live and breathe in poetry, the one true thing that sets me free
I think that I have always known, that depth and passion in a poem
Changes words from ordinary, into extraordinary
Inspires thoughts, expands the mind, word imagery clearly defined
Emotional, historical, political, rhetorical
Whilst trying to wax lyrical, some even are hysterical,
The darker side of life is there, tormented souls in deep despair
Some may be borderline insane, through poetry reveals the pain,
Classical, contemporary, even revolutionary
There’s those who write in torrid verse, to some a blessing, some a curse
However one may view that style, it never fails to bring a smile
Always there is that special part, exclusive to my seeking heart
Those loving verses sweet to me, found in romantic poetry
Poetic friendship never ends, I’ve made some truly lovely friends
Nurtured by our art with care, those friendships will always be there
It would be nice to really know when it becomes our time to go
Like poets from another time, we all may live on through our rhyme
My poetry gave me a life, relieved me from all stress and strife
Whatever the future may bring, I owe my poetry everything
from Wanda’s Page – Poetry.org.nz
Wanda Kiel-Rapana
Whispers Of Your Heart
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 10, 2013
Whispers Of Your Heart
There is a quiet in my life only your whisper brings
I listen in the silence to the music your heart sings
I rest upon your loving thoughts, enjoying peace of mind
Inside that peaceful tenderness only with you I’d find
There are no hidden feelings, everything is very clear
We ride the truth together, there’s no hurry or no fear
Just living in the moment for whatever it may give
No thoughts of any other thing – the moment’s where we live
You have another life – another true reality
We both accept that’s how it is – it is the same for me
But when I need that quiet space to let my feelings roam
The whispers of your loving heart are there to take me home
from Wanda’s Page – Poetry.org.nz
Wanda Kiel-Rapana
Pilgrim
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 9, 2013
Pilgrim
The fragrance that surrounds you
in that sacred Spot
has reached me ere your return
Sweetness before which
ev’ry rose must flush and turn
yearning as in haste
longing to be there with you.
Garnet Shaw Robbie
Flaming June
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 9, 2013
Flaming June
Picking peas for market is back-breaking work, especially at the age of eighty six. Marie was a widow, she always wore long skirts and her clothes were invariably black.Her weather-beaten face was deeply wrinkled and crows feet splayed from eyes as blue as the sea that lapped around the island of Jersey. She was wiry and wily with nimble fingers far quicker than my inexperienced hands, I lagged far behind her. Quick as a blink, Marie picked to put food on the table and I to buy a birthday present for father. I struggled to comprehend her conversation as she spoke the old Jersey-French patois, but today her old face lit up as she proffered a floral print bonnet like hers for my head. The poke shaded my eyes and layered frills at the nape protected my neck and shoulders. Only the old women wore traditional Jersey bonnets, but I accepted one gratefully.
a seat in shade
the damp earthy smell
of crack-willow
Thirty years later there were no traditional bonnets to be seen anywhere… even in the island’s museum. I asked if they had any Jersey bonnets? The curator lifted a dusty box from
a top shelf, full of similar dainty floral print bonnets, with a poke brim and generous frills at the back. My eyes brimmed with tears, the only black floral print… was Marie’s!
Full Honey Moon –
glitter on the sea, dances
upstream to me
from Poetry Zoo Abigael
Gael Bage
Faces of the Sea
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 8, 2013
Faces of the Sea
She invites and entices, her frothy skirts
sweep in, then retreat. A temptress , her voice
is a whisper in pink sea shells.
Light reflects sand, green and grey,
a chameleon, she blends with rainbows, banks
of cloud and the colours of sky.
A partner to sunbeams,
she dances, waves her underskirts, dazzles,
twinkles, vies with the sun.
At night in Khol-black dress
she shimmers liquid silver, mirrors the glory
of a silver plate moon.
Her diurnal tides chisel
and scrape smooth, she sculpts the coastline
to natural perfection.
A tempestuous lover she caresses
earth , enters deep caverns, waves undulate.
gyrate, peak and subside.
Grey skies or blue she holds
our memories and dreams of tomorrow,
rocks the cradle of raindrops .
from Poetryzoo Abigael
Gael Bage
Leaving a mark
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 2, 2013
Leaving a mark
On a train journey to Glasgow
an inspector punched my ticket.
He left an unusual shaped hole;
peculiar in size and in shape.
At Stafford, another inspector
with his unique ticket punch.
Holes of different size and shape.
After Carlisle came another.
My trip punctuated by the
inspectors I met on the way.
My journey described by all the
punches my ticket had received.
The inspectors judged by the
impressions they made on the trip.
from the volume “Newbury Makar”, 2013
John Black
Jumbled thoughts
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 2, 2013
Jumbled thoughtsThe random thoughts that come to me
are what create my poetry
Just thoughts all simply passing through
Unplanned, ad hoc, with no clear view
Thoughts scattered from another space
With no clear boundaries, out of place
So many times I think, I plan
I sit for hours with pen in hand
Trying to pick that perfect theme
to create that poetic dream
add structure to my poetry;
That strategy won’t work for me
It seems only the random style
is all that makes my poems smile
So when you read a write I’ve wrote
considering just how to vote
Remember whether strong or weak
most have been written tongue in cheek!!
Wanda Kiel-Rapana
Miniscule Malevolence. ( Blake style )
POSTED IN contemporary poetry November 2, 2013
Miniscule Malevolence. ( Blake style )
I stood and watched a vagrants fire
a flea’s ghost leapt out from the pyre.
He thirsts; such thirst is plain to see,
his red eyes sear the flesh of me.
His tongue darts in and out again,
eager to sup blood, like a drain.
I’m a cup that sets his eyes alight
this ghost who drains my blood tonight
Whose soul confined within the flea
ravages each body with glee.
I wonder if the tramp is dead,
or lives on, in that furnace head?
Speckled Thrush
POSTED IN contemporary poetry October 31, 2013
Speckled Thrush
O speckled thrush
so cold, so stiff, so dead!
Your flame extinguished
a faded silhouette
a flyblown curiosity
no glimmer of light
from your half- moon eye.
Stark contrast
to those sparkling beads of lace
a delicate throw
on Nature’s grand bed
a sticky, intricate snare
where
Death also awaits
upon his secret tight rope
wraps his victims tenderly in silk
then sucks out all life
leaves nothing but an empty husk.
Is this your fate
O, speckled thrush
as you ‘push up the daises?’
Heavens no!
You are surrounded
by graceful, innocent
‘Christ-children’
damp with early morning tears
mourning your death
yet rejoicing in the dawning
of a new day …
And look … O look!
A tulip cup
ablaze with glory
toasts the heavens
Feasts
upon the rising sun
A herald of Spring and all
dappled, variegated things
Shouts out its certainty –
Your death, speckled thrush
Is Nature’s celebration
A new beginning ….
You have fulfilled your role
your purpose
In the eternal, circle of life.
Amanda Edwards
It starts with faeries.
POSTED IN contemporary poetry October 29, 2013
It starts with faeries.
I watch you shut your book
with a satisfying thud
and shout:
“I believe in faeries”
And I see God’s smile
shimmer through the stardust
As the morning stars
sing together
and all the angels shout
for joy
You hug to yourself
a child-like certainty
that now, this very minute
another faery has been saved!
Never lose
that sense of wonder
For you
everything is a miracle
there is nothing seen
or unseen
that you cannot believe
Faeries are like angels
invisible friends who
sparkle in the sunlight
dance and twirl like leaves
Little puffs of wind
playing in your hair
whispering
“Here I am, isn’t life grand?”
They watch you play hopscotch
on the pavement
soothe ointment on your knees
Slowly release their breath
when you climb the tallest trees
nestle there
reach out to the clouds
And dream …
Feathered angels
trill their secret messages
hop from branch to branch
watch over you
one foot carefully placed
after another
as you descend
Some angels
pile up freshly made scones
smothered in jam and cream
on your favourite plate
and watch you eat
so much in love with you
They read you endless stories
over and over
for they know you love to
feed your imagination
and can never get enough
Sometimes
when you least expect it
a furry angel jumps on to your lap
kneads you up and down
dribbles and purrs!
And did you know …
A guardian angel
listens to your prayers at night
sends them heavenward
with a sprinkling of faery dust
Where God catches them
and smiles
While His angels shout for joy
and the night sky shivers in delight.
Amanda Edwards
