Please leave a comment.


I love receiving and reading comments ~ please leave one.
If you are a regular I am pleased to see you again ~ make yourself at home. If you are new to my blog, welcome too, and please introduce yourself and I will reply very soon.

Tuesday, 16 April 2019

ARCHWAYS TO HEAVEN




The Sunday Muse #51

The tragic events of the devastating fire of Notre Dame has caused me to post this piece as my token of respect, albeit a small voice, in sympathy with the citizens of France, both believers and non-believers and lovers of magnificent buildings throughout the entire globe.



Archways To Heaven





My children,
I reach out to comfort you from beyond time and space, suspended by a thin beam of love from infinity.



I see you pour out sadness and weep unending tears.
I hear your prayers, and all your sung Ave Maria's.
I hear every single sorrow and every bleeding heart.
I too, cry a little tear as I watch you grieve in silence.

 My faithful, loving children.

You watch in disbelief as my temple burns and crumbles,
Each piece so lovingly assembled by your forefathers, from their hearts and their souls.
They built this mighty house with all their skill and artistry,
As a fitting testimony to my name and to my lasting grace, and they have their reward.


My faithful, loving children.



850 years of faithful service and 200 years to build,
Devastated in just a few hours.
I know you find this so hard to come to terms with.
Yet the stonework remains ~ have hope my children.


My faithful, loving children.


Not one spark shall be wasted ~ every cloud of smoke not lost,
For every molecule has a purpose and all will come to me,
The fire will rise ever onward and ascend into the highest heavens,
Bringing with it all your talent, each fine brush stoke, each woven tapestry, each carved figure, each stained glass image, each mighty oak rafter, each crafted leadwork and ironwork, each plastered ceiling 

~ everything, 

all will glorify my name.


My faithful, loving children.



And with it I shall rekindle every broken heart and every saddened spirit.
I shall raise a new legion of craftsmen, masters in every trade,
And from the ashes will rise this mighty house once more,
In all its splendour and all its glory, just like my temples did of old.


Take heart, my children
I have already set the wheels in motion.






* * * * * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights
16 April 2019


It is a sad week, this really got to me.
Not quite sure why, as powerfully as it did.


To each Carrie's website at The Sunday Muse,
press HERE


and Toni has

The Wednesday Muse HERE



Saturday, 13 April 2019

CAN'T YOU HEAR THE RAIN?



It's Wednesday Muse Time again

#3


A bit late for me to submit on Saturday, but better late than never.



This week, Toni has asked us to write about the rain.

My mind rushes back to a time just after my hip replacement when I awoke in hospital.

Not a poem this time, but a memory.



Can't You Hear The Rain?


Hip Hip Hooray


Before my operation, in the room adjoining the operating theatre, I was asked by the anaesthetist, "Which leg is it?"

Rather horrified I said "Left", then quickly added, "my left, and the one appearing on the right as you look at me!"

He laughed and proceed to draw an arrow pointing upwards on my left leg.

I said, "Why the arrow pointing upwards?"

He said, "Oh! so we give you a hip replacement not a knee replacement!"

Remarking that my nervousness was waning slightly, now we had reduced four possible permutations to one, he offered a mild anaesthetic before they commenced with an epidural procedure. They would be using the standard array of tools, Black and Decker power tools, along with various hammers chisels and saws, for their handy work.

Fortunately I was not conscious of anything unpleasant except when the catheter was inserted, then mercifully the sedative kicked in, and oblivion.

I awoke in a bed and a gorgeous lady nurse was sitting by my side.

I looked at her, smiled and said,  "Am I in Heaven, or are you Aphrodite?"

She gave me a beautiful smile and laughed. "Eddie, you are alright.  Your surgery was a complete success. As to whether you are in Heaven, can't you hear the gale outside and the rain lashing so hard against the windows?"

"No, you are on planet Earth, in the recovery ward after your hip replacement surgery."

She laughed again, then gave me a little wink.


Toni, from your list I believe the correct Japanese word for this type of rain is 

shinotsukame




Eddie Bluelights
13 April 2019


* * * * * * * * * * *


To see the Wednesday Muse and Toni's very informative Japanese words for rain (over 50 types against our one) press HERE


and of course looking forward to The Sunday Muse #51, hosted by Carrie, HERE

Sunday, 7 April 2019

THE OLD BARN GATE


The Sunday Muse #50

Many congratulations, Carrie, on a half century of Sunday Muses.
Here's to the next half century.

Carrie Van Horn posts another interesting picture prompt for our merry band of poets.

It reminds me a bit of our Union Jack Flag
(Maybe that's where our Brexit went!)


Photo by Lukasz Dziegel from Pexels



The Old Barn Gate


It's all but a distant memory to me now.
The hustle and bustle is conspicuous by it's absence.
I never knew such silence as this, in this special of all my special places. 
I can hear the eerie inactivity, ringing loudly in my ears, and it makes me sad.


I peep through the old heavy barn gates,
Locked and uninviting to one they once knew so well,
Hoping upon hope that something, somewhere remains intact.
My heart aches to see such unfriendly desolation ~ everywhere.



When I was a little girl this place was alive, vibrant, teeming.
Yet the ghosts of all those dear to me live on within my soul.
Everyone was happy, fulfilled and joyful in their work.
Farm hands laughed and bantered as they went about their trade.


The sound of cattle and horses and poultry permeated through the fragrant air,
On sleepy sunny afternoons, crying out, "It's good to be alive".
Sharp whistles from my father pricked a sheepdog's ear,
As he heeded to his much loved master's orders for his flock.


A combine harvester chattered as it reaped, winnowed and threshed it's prey,
A tractor laboured as it furrowed well manured land with it's heavy plough.
We followed with our seedlings, preparing for our next crop.
And Mom came with drinks and cookies, reminding us the cows need milking.


We worked from dawn 'til dusk but not one of us complained.
We loved the work and were at one with each other ~ one large, happy family.
Yet those days are gone, sadly a distant memory.
Mom got sick and died, then Daddy went soon after, with a broken heart.


Us four little ones had never seen a grown man cry.
Yet my Daddy sobbed and sobbed for over a week,
 and cuddled us for comfort, before his spirit left him too.
His faithful Shep whimpered constantly and would not leave his side.


Anyone can be a father but it takes someone special to be my Daddy,
And the same goes for my dearest Mom.
They are buried in the family plot within the grounds,
And our dear Shep sleeps every night on my Daddy's gravestone, such was his love for him.


In the twinkling of an eye our lives were catapulted from bliss to absolute despair.
There was no-one close by to look after us, or the farm and animals which we loved so much.
Cruelly, our treasured home was sold and life as we knew it was closed to us ~ for ever,
As if behind the descending black curtain of finality.


Our home was gone, along with Mom and Dad, so Auntie Em took us in, far, far way.
I have not visited this place until today, half a lifetime forward,
But past memories were never far from me, both good and bad.
They remain still beating in my heart, treasured for ever.


Nothing and no-one can take these precious jewels away from me, no matter how hard they try.
For they are mine and mine alone.



* * * * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights
7 April 2019


Ok. Several of you are very concerned about Old Shep, the sheepdog and wonder what happened to him.

Well here is the answer.



The new owners bought the farm as a going concern and kept all the farm hands for a while, but it was never the same again. They all left one by one.  The four children went to live with their Auntie Em in a far away State. I could have made Auntie Em into some sort of ogre, giving the children a hard time, but decided to put this story to bed by making her into a Wizard of Oz vafriety.  She was very kind to them, but they pined for their former life for a long while. Auntie Em kept in contact with the new owners so that she could give the children all the latest news about the farm.

Faithful old Shep stayed on with the new owner as a working sheepdog and they gave him a happy life, but he still slept on his former master's grave during the warmer summer months. When he died a few years later he was buried with his former master,  

A few years on the farm became insolvent and had to be wound up and today has no occupants.

When she heard that Shep had died the little girl, now not so little, said that she would like to think that her Daddy and Shep are shepherding a different kind of flock for Jesus, up in Heaven, and together with Mom they are very happy.


* * * * * * * * * * 



We are always looking for additional writers.

Interested?

Call in at Carrie's HERE

also

Toni is running


The  Wednesday Muse HERE


They compliment one another very well




Thursday, 4 April 2019

THE FLOWERS OF SPRING



The Wednesday Muse #2


Thank you Toni for the opportunity to write about  

The Flowers Of Spring 

and what they mean to me

Write a poem about the flowers of spring and how they make you feel, memories. Write about enjoying them, waiting in anticipation for them, the last blooming daffodil of the season. Make your images vivid, not necessarily pretty and poetic. But above all, enjoy yourselves. Throw yourselves into flowers of spring.





They sing in unison, swaying gently on a mild Spring breeze.
A mighty choir of hope and joy, bound in symphonic chorus.
They greet the new dawn to regenerate our flagging souls.
They line the hedgerows in their multitudes to cheer our wounded hearts.
Their omnipresent melody transforms our fallen spirit
Into a newborn miracle of rapture.


For we know this is yet a precursor to marvels which must follow.




Eddie Bluelights
4 April 2019



To reach Toni and her webpage for

The Wednesday Muse

please press HERE


* * * * * * * 

As an aside, today is Friday and in the UK we have a rather amusing acronym, which is quite apt for our happy lttle group


Poet's Day

Push Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday

lol

I believe in the States the equivalent is

TGIF

Thank God It's Friday

THE MAKEOVER


The Wednesday Muse #2

Still thinking but I just had to let you all know I am alive and kicking . . . lol

While I search for inspiration the least I can do is to provide you with some form of entertainment.

A while ago I came across this hilarious mini short movie:


The Funniest Makeover

Press HERE



https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=12&v=tiAZ01dkcdc


Hope you enjoy.



Hope to have my effort ready soon and I'll notify Mr Linky.


Saturday, 30 March 2019

THE ELUSIVE BUTTERFLY



Once again it is Sunday Muse time with Carrie Van Horn. Thank you for the prompt, Carrie. It is always a challenge to write to order, but far quicker than waiting for inspiration which may never come.

My word, don't the weeks go by quickly?




The Sunday Muse #49

Photo by Isabella Mariana from Pexels


The Painted Lady

Yes, I recognise you ~ you cannot hide from me!
You cannot fool me for another second.
Even though you strive to conceal your markings and change your colouring.
I know you so well. Come out into the open and into reality.
 Talk with me a while!!

Painted Lady Butterfly



Your lips are tightly sealed and muted,
Although those gorgeous eyes betray you, even now.
For I see love welling up behind those large green orbs
As counterpoint to that inner battle, raging deep within you.


Maybe I declared my love too soon,
To challenge and threaten the ownership of your heart.
It's keys are so precious to you and impossible to give away,
Unless you freely give them from deep within your soul.


Yet, I know you love me and wrestle with that loss of freedom.
Just like that elusive painted lady, etched into total adoration,
Your pleading heart commands surrender and full submission,
Eclipsing all objections from your protesting reason.


I will not force the issue further, for I respect your freedom.
I would not accept a love not freely given, and not absolute.

Yet my spirit speaks and shows me a route into your heart,
For it knows the butterfly will fly straight into my life,

Not for one day, but for eternity.


* * * * * * * * 

Let's hope she doesn't keep me in the friend zone for too long . . lol

* * * * * * * 

Eddie Bluelights
30 March 2019




We are always looking to expand our happy band of poets.
There is no entry fee ~ it's entirely free!!!

But it is not paid either.


Please press HERE to reach Carrie's website.

And please do not forget to participate in Toni's Wednesday Muse. I am sure she will have another treat for us. See HERE






Wednesday, 27 March 2019

LOST IN TIME



The Wednesday Muse #1


Thank you Toni for the first assignment for your midweek muse.

For my record I am outlining below your introduction, explaining the Japanese five line format, known as gogyoshi.

To give you a little background, my name is Toni Spencer and I specialize in Japan and Japanese prompts. But not always. Today I am going to introduce you to an easy peasy form known as the gogyoshi. The poem consists of exactly five lines. No syllable counting, no content requirements , No rhythm or rhyme requirements. Just...five lines. Isn't that easy?

The Japanese are into the seasons, change, and something called mono no aware (mo•no ah•wah•ray.  It means, sadness or wistfulness at the passing of things. If you want to use this or the spring as a theme for your poem, please do.


Subsequently learned that lines sould be brief 

Ok, here we go:
slap my wrists if I get it wrong please.

* * * * * * * * * * * 


LOST IN TIME



Eternity marches ever forward, suspended on a single thread of time and space ~ it's beam of light cannot look back, and cannot be reversed.

It abducts all that is dear to us, all our treasured moments and youth and mirth ~ now all lost and gone for ever in the twinkling of a weeping eye.

These remain just pleasant memories to us, yet all remain intact and singing still with joyful hearts, imprisoned within our souls, yet lost on a light beam, long gone.

To relive them is forbidden and beyond our reach by the ever cruel forward arrow of time, closing it's door firmly and deaf to our persistent pleas and knocking.


Yet in our dreams we long to recapture our prime, our youth and all those loved ones, absent from our dimension, except within our hearts.


* * * * * * * * * * * 


Eddie Bluelights
27 March 2019


* * * * * * * 

Linking with The Sunday Muse

and