Category: poetry

‘Time keeps on slipping into the future … ‘ ðŸŽµ

Joey Jones4 Comments

Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

A favourite series of books of mine were The Famous Five by English writer Enid Blyton ( 1897-1968) Her books were best sellers around the world since the 1930’s.

                                    Leisure

What is this life if, full of care

   We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs,

   And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

   Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

   Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

   And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can,

   Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this, if, full of care,

   We have no time to stand and stare.

                 By W.H. Davies, pub 1911.

‘ Time keeps on slipping into the future’ is taken from the album Fly Like an Eagle by the Steve Miller Band. Released in 1976.

  

Patches

Joey Jones8 Comments

Describe one simple thing you do that brings joy to your life.

Walking my dog on the beach. Seeing him in his element brings great joy to my life.

                       Black Cherries

Late in May as the light lengthens

towards summer the young goldfinches

flutter down through the day for the first time

to find themselves among fallen petals

cradling their day’s colours in the day’s shadows

of the garden beside the old house

after a cold spring with no rain

not a sound comes from the empty village

as I stand eating the black cherries

from the loaded branches above me

saying to myself Remember this

W. S Merwin 1927~2019

The Tide Rises the Tide Falls

Joey Jones6 Comments

What jobs have you had?…… and when the work is over

The tide rises, the tide falls,

The twilight darkness, the curlew calls;

Along the sea-sands damp and brown

The traveller hastens towards the town,

   And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,

But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;

The little waves, with their soft, white hands,

Efface the footprints in the sand,

   And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steed in their stalls,

Stamp and neigh, as the holster calls,

The day returns, but never more

Returns the traveller to the shore,

   And the tide rises, the tide falls.

                             ***************

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ~ 1807-1882

Wildflowers, by Gaby Compres

Joey Jones4 Comments

Daily Prompt….Have you ever broken a bone?

Let’s be wildflowers, let our souls be scattered by the wind.

Let us grow wild and free, tall and brave, in the places that we dream, in the places where our longings are filled.

Let us grow through the cracks of brokenness, and we will make everything beautiful.

I Sit Beside The Fire And Think

Joey Jones3 Comments

J.R.R. Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen

of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been;

Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were,

with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be

when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things that I have never seen:

in every wood and every spring there is a different green.

I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago

and people who will see a world that I will never know.

But all all the while I sit and think of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.

The heartbeat at my feet

Joey JonesLeave a comment

What animals make the best/worst pets?

Dogs,dogs,dogs……and more dogs! Having said that if granted enough time on this planet and the opportunity to do so I’d would love to give a good home to a cat and some chickens.

The following was written by Billy Collins in 1998. Twice US Poet Laureate….

*Dharma*

The way the dog trots out the front door

every morning

without a hat or umbrella,

without any money

or keys to her doghouse

never fails to fill the saucer of my heart

with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example

of life without encumbrance –

Thoreau in his curtainless hut

with a single plate, a single spoon?

Ghamdi with his staff and holy diapers?

Off she goes into the material world

with nothing but her brown coat

and her modest blue collar

following only her wet nose,

the twin portals of her steady breathing,

followed only by the plume of her tail.

Ir only she did not shove the cat aside

every morning

and eat all his food

what a model of self-containment she

would be,

what a paragon of earthly detachment.

If only she were not so eager

for a rub behind the ears,

so acrobatic in her welcomes,

if only I were not her god…..