My first poem about a country stile!

I shut my eyes, and lingered a while,
Detached from bodily form
To dwell upon the words that formed
A poem about a country stile.

The grain was gnarled and knot protruding,
Weathered old and standing proud
Like a lonely aged war torn soldier
A history witnessed and life concluding.

The brush swept land of gold and green
The emerald grass and hill of grain.
Across the land and ghostly page
This virgin tale of where I’d been.

Each step toward this friend of mine
The view his gift to me
Was painted on a page in words
And with the page did intertwine.

With opened eyes, I stopped a while,
And wished to see my country stile.
I wish for the gift of sight for me,
But darkness is all I see.

This is my first fictitious poem about a fictitious scene turned into a first fictitious poem by a fictitious blind man! I joke, but my sentiment is heartfelt and I do believe it is very sad that someone who is blind cannot see the beautiful sights I have seen in the countryside around us today. Poem written as the result of a prompt about ‘first times’ by dverse pots pub.


My Life and Love

l awake to see the light upon your face
the light of love in warmth of start of day.
Hair so soft and skin adorned with lace
A twinkle and a smile that both spell “play”
But what of illness and of suffering
That pain that tears at both our hearts
And not one ounce of luck our God does bring,
But emptiness and eternity to spend apart.
l awake to see the light upon that space
the light of love now lost at start of day
Hair so soft and memories of flimsy lace
The light of love l wish would go away.
l cannot live, my only friend is pain,
So l shall die and see my love again.

My attempt at a Shakesperean style sonnet for dVerse poets Form for all

Arab Spring

I WILL stand,
fist clenched hand.
“Free our land,” is said as one.
Screaming triumphant,
Ecstatic about the chance of freedom.

“Tear the beast from his greedy kingdom.”

They taunt the child soldiers with
in     their    eyes.

“Come stand with us my child,
at least shed blood for the cause of your brothers and sisters.”

Drifting in the crowd,
never to feel her son’s love again..

The butt of HIS rifle ends her life.

The child soldier with
In      his      eyes.

Into the light,

“Don’t worry my child,
I understand.
I am happy that I have made a stand, had a voice, stood together, raised my hand.
WE as one will free our land.”…

(Only from darkness can come light)