Here are June’s poems. This month’s theme was Daydreams & Footpaths…
A Mandalay child
Long, long years ago, I lived in Mandalay,
Where parents danced the lancers
At monthly balls, such grand affairs,
Each function giving pleasure.
Our house was large with rambling rooms,
With nursery floor and gardens too,
All trim and neat, cool and shady,
Beneath the bower of blooms.
Where servants padded softly by,
Serving with loyal pleasure,
For me and mine, in old Mandalay,
During those long gone days of leisure.
Though wars may come and years roll by
Those memories I will keep by me,
Happy days of childhood years
In grand and ancient Mandalay.
– Gretta Johnson
An Australian dream/nightmare
Don’t go into the water Jill,
There’s sharks and other things that kill.
The crocs won’t even shed a tear,
As you scream and splash about in fear.
Don’t go into the dunny Jill,
There’s things in there that make you ill.
Check the plughole! Look under the seat!
Be careful where you put your feet!
Don’t walk about in the bush Jill,
You’ll be stabbed in the back by an Echidna quill.
You might catch a rare form of Wombat flu,
Or be kicked to death by a Kangaroo.
Don’t go into the forest Jill,
Unless to give the snakes a thrill.
And for goodness sake please be wary,
Of the fearsome Cassowary.
Don’t go into the desert Jill,
Man-eating Dingos prowl there still,
They’ll snatch you in the dead of night,
And crunch your bones by pale moonlight.
Don’t go into the mountains Jill,
A Bunyip lurks on every hill.
He feasts on maidens fair and fine,
On second thoughts you’ll be fine.
Don’t go into the city Jill,
For one you can’t afford the bill,
Plus Funnel webs will share your bed,
And with one bite, they’ll leave you dead.
Don’t go down to the beach Jill,
You’ll be burned alive on a barbeque grill!
And if still your maker has not been met,
A runaway surfboard could kill you yet!
– Jill Ferguson
Dream alone, aloud, along,
Dream in poetry or song.
Dream underneath the arches
Dream sleeping in shop porches.
Dream warm blankets and bed,
Dream stomach full and fed.
Dream faring the weather,
Dream leaning together.
Dream anywhere but homeless,
Dream anything but no-ness.
Dream you didn’t get ill at the roll of a die,
Didn’t take the sick note like some grasping lie.
Dream you didn’t lose your job through no fault of your own,
Didn’t miss your rent and get booted from home.
Dream you didn’t queue up for DSS humiliation,
Didn’t grovel for cash in social renegotiation.
Dream you didn’t have to take that little Food Bank card,
Didn’t eat charity beans, uncooked and hard.
Dream away, dream away the losses and shocks,
Dream away, dream away the school of hard knocks.
Dream away, dream away illusory welfare,
Dream away, dream away this homeless nightmare.
Dream compassion and fairness,
Dream social awareness.
Dream along, alone, aloud,
Dream strong and just and proud.
– M. Fish
With flights of fancy
The mind wilfully wanders,
Where grass is trampled
By feet going to somewhere,
Lines of destiny
– C. King
Footpaths by other names
In Essex and Herts they call ‘em “Twitchells”
To the Geordies they are “Chares”
“Snickerways” are found in Yorkshire
“Vennels” are the haunt of Lairds.
The Cumbrians have their “Gennells”
Devonians have their “Opes”
In Derby and Leicester there are “Jetters”
In Sussex with “Twittens” we cope.
– Corvus Wood
Footpaths with Moss
I’ve walked many footpaths,
It must be miles,
Over the fields
With hundreds of stiles.
I walk with my dog,
Moss, by my side,
With a stick or a ball
We’re soon in our stride.
I walk with the Ramblers,
It’s always great fun,
From Rye to the Downs
In the rain and the sun.
I walk with my friends
And we have a good talk,
Then stop for some coffee
And continue our walk.
We are blessed in this country
With footpaths galore,
Many of which
You can walk from your door.
Nothing compares to a stroll in the woods
Especially in Spring and Summer.
Seeing nests appear in trees and reeds,
And hearing the Avian clamour.
Wren, Robin and Blackbird,
Crow, Finch and Cuckoo.
Like a good heady brew.
But is this chorus divine,
As triumphant as in days of yore?
When birds of many species,
Sang for Odin and Thor?
Rook, Sparrow and Starling,
Thrush, Mistle and Song,
Alas numbers are falling,
Our world’s going wrong.
Disturbed birds leaving broods,
Chicks never getting to fledge.
Bushes and trees destroyed year round
Nests abandoned in perilous hedge.
Yellow Hammer, Blackcap and Dunnock,
Warblers, Sedge and Reed,
Our species at fault quite clearly,
With many a thoughtless deed.
Wood Pigeon, Dove and Fieldfare,
Tits, Long-tailed, Great and Blue,
Lapwing, Buzzard and Jackdaw,
We KNOW what we must do!
Footpaths must be adhered to,
With dogs kept on short lead.
We must give our birds the chance they deserve
As Nature’s law decreed.
Search for Early Purple Orchid
Early Purple of the wood,
I would have found you if I could
Remember by which path you stood.
Blackthorn blossom white,
Foamy butterfly delight,
Buff-tailed Bumblebee encounter
I saw a Buff-tailed Bumblebee
a-sitting on a flower,
She buzzed and talked of pollen
for what seemed about an hour.
I heard a skylark singing
in the sky so high,
And saw the teardrop glisten
in the Buff-tailed’s tiny eye.
– Jill Ferguson
|July 2017 poems||May 2017 poems