Monthly Archives: November 2016

sonnet

googling I read that a perfect sonnet

rules. if according to terms , conditions.

you think so; if you have gone and done it

properly. I understand this situation.

yet some like free form verse .on listening .

found words have their own stories. written in

any way seems ok , rather interesting.

finding rhyme difficult will carry on, grin

and bear it. pause. an unusual exercise

that may end in disaster. do not wish

to win. am not good at being precise

nor sticking to rules and break some……………

so here we are, there it is. a sonnet

in its rights, wrongs and imperfections, init?

“While all the sonnets in this competition are in a sense an exploration of what a sonnet is, this was the only one that actually treated the topic in its subject-matter.”

the laundry man

there will not be a note on the door to say i have gone.

i have called you.

it is extra when

you go alone.now i have tidied around and taken the

glory. stocked up, and locked the out buildings ready.

it is an autumn day, gold, glistening from the rain

that fell last night. sun warms and the scarf becomes

unnecessary.

as is the note.

sbm.

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my name repeated

no smoke rising.

he said my name over, over

now he may be gone.

there is no smoke, just

mist rising, snow

in the distance.

quite cold, the car alarming.

there is no smoke rising

today, my name

is not repeated.

he may have gone.left

the wild wood

for sale.

sbm.

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the same rags

the year gone by, books

left tied

with rag.

she said hello, smiled.

i smiled back with no

regret.

coated in butter of

contentment

that

the books are left tied

tightly.

sbm.

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this three

from some one that wants all folk tidy

comes a promising revelation.

. stuff everwhere.

. brown and rustic.

from someone who wishes to clip

and straighten comes the point

of over growing.

isn’t it?

sbm.

wild wood

photograph the trees. notice the wild wood

early while walking, imagine it may

be mine. to care for , to let be. it could.

it is for sale. new sign on the gate, today

the charcoal burner . he is a woods man

smoke rises grey. price is mentioned . plenty.

I think on his words, the idea, owning land,

crashing back into the wild wood. empty

headed. it is good to be quiet, alone

away from their thickening throng , the dread .

soft voices. smoke rises slow, ashes. old bone.

dust and dust , by dust we bury the dead.

he will split the wood. they may come and buy,

yet in my head the wild wood will be mine.

sbm.

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car wash

i think i have a picture of
the car wash in betws,
model railway and vistas.

yet i cannot find it.
the little people
were waving their arms around.

so i am going with the frog car
and carbolic soap. the middle
one being imperial leather.

thank you.

sbm.

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dogs

it is quiet in the garden

today.

the dog barks, part

of the ambience.

it walks backwards on a lead,

forwards when free.

have not seen that before.

my dog does not bark now.

#ghost

sbm.

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the moor

did you fall in the black peat

did you slip and loose your footing?

did no one come to find you,as they

did not feel you missing. they

say it is a lonely thing.

did you not notice?