Isn’t it strange, you would think with lockdown I would be using this site but poetry seems to be far from my mind.
I’ve trying other creative outlets now and am having fund with fluid art.
Any comments would be gratefully received. And if anyone wants an original let me know. One of these maybe or commission me. So I will post pictures as well as poetry from time to time.
I love this one – I call it My Dancing flowers
I thought I would draw a lovely giraffe,
It’s my granddaughters favourite you see.
It turned out to be such a blast
The giraffe, the grass and the tree.
I used to love laundry days
The satisfaction that cleanliness brings
The warm sensation of finishing a job
And those neat piles of clothing
When I had finished the lot
I used to love that sweet laundry smell
And starch that bought stiffness to collars as well
To remove all the grass marks and have crease free shirts
My day was complete
And my energies spent
I used to love laundry days but no more
Now its non-iron shirts and more
Those drip-dry trousers just fill me with bliss
No more ironing, hurray,
No more creases in this.
Now I have time to sit in the sun
To play ball with the kids
And get grass stains on my bum
I used to love laundry but not any more
Its too time consuming, it’s simply a chore!
I am sitting at the meeting
Wondering why I‘m here
The others seemed to have the knowledge
My mind seemed rather bare.
Would I remember all this input?
Did I really care?
Was it time to move my feet,
And get the hell out of there?
I gaze out the window,
The view has caught my eye.
A roof is glistening in the sun,
I didn’t realise we were up this high.
Looking down at the floor,
Oh no, my tights have a run.
The ladder goes up the side of my thigh,
At least the other foot has none.
We are put in groups, ideas to share,
A question… I need to respond.
Some wisdom or thoughts they seem to expect,
Can I get away with just a nod?
I don’t know what they hope I will say,
Pearls of wisdom from a dew-drop brain.
They look at me expectantly,
My comments sound rather lame.
The air-conditioning is never right,
It changes from moment to moment.
Now I’m sweltering, hot as heck,
The next my feet will be frozen.
The day is over, what did I learn?
The food was good, those tiny cakes great.
Met some new people, heard an idea or two,
And caught up with quite a few mates.
A day away from work,
Not the type I was dreaming.
But a change as they say,
That’s an interesting stain on the ceiling.
We really are a nation of DIY
We like to give everything a try
From laying a garden, seed and all
To leveling out for a tile floor
We buy all the gear we think we will need
The ladder, the level, the tiles, the seed.
And then we will find we use it just once
Or have heaps to use next time, after we wipe off the dust.
Our sheds are full while we wait for that time
When we lay another lawn, or hang another line.
And after all that expense, that effort, that toil
We still end up needing to call a professional
But we look at the job we completed and say
How pleased we are, it really did pay.
To do it ourselves, the money we saved
And we hide the wonky tile and the crooked architrave.
Next time I may think of the time I’d have gained,
of the bruises, fingernails and pains I’d have saved
And I’ll reach for the phone, a professional to call
Well maybe…or I’ll visit the hardware and buy some more tools!
Issues with websites can drive you mad,
Not being able to do what you want can make you sad.
Visions of tossing the laptop across the room,
Well it would make a very satisfying ‘boom’.
*sigh*
But it’s too costly to replace,
And imagine the look on your colleague’s face.
So you grit your teeth,
and take a deep breath.
Your determined not to be driven
by a machine with a stupid algorithm!
I wrote this a few years back when I was doing a creative writing course. I liked it then and like it now. We had to describe a colour to someone who could not see it.
Orange? You ask as I sit and think
that this will be easy, it’s the taste of the fruit.
And then I stop and ponder longer
Orange is more, much more than just a
quick response.
Orange is in the delightful surprise
Of fizzy lollies exploding on the tongue.
It’s in the smell of freshly baked bread,
And in the yearning to pick and nibble
just a bit.
It’s in the warmth of running your hand
Deeply through a sheepskin rug.
And it’s in the scent of summer,
Freshly mown lawns, and suntan lotion
And it’s also the shade of children’s laughter
That happy bubbling sound of play
The genteel breeze that just touches the skin
Carries orange with it as it drifts by.
And I look at you, my sightless friend
As these thoughts move in your mind.
I feel a sense of wonderment
As I watch the orange of your smile.
@Beth
I decided to start a blog as I kept writing verse but didn’t know what to do with it. Also I would like to share it with my friends and family…and anyone else who may like to read it. I wrote verse for the Massey course I did. It has been locked away..unfortunately when I resurrected it and brought it to work to scan…it blew off the car roof. We found all the verse I think..and most of the stories.
I finally found out that not everyone could rhyme and maybe it was a talent I had that should be put to use. We will see.
P.S. I am writing under my maiden name, and the name my mother wanted me to be called…it feels right for this.
I started a blog , my rhymes to share,
with all my friends and family out there.
They keep popping into my brain,
this way I hope they will remain.
And we can read them when we have time,
and you can say what you think, but please be kind.
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
Beth's Poetry Page 