The stillness of the heart
Calms the spirit
The love of life finds true innovation
In the beginning, I knew not
The end has just begun.
We bumped into each other festooned with
Haversack, kitbag and side-pack.
He, a big lad with a grin that nothing could dispel,
King Neptune was the boss.
No one could have a grin that wide in the
Atlantic Ocean, his domain.
For three whole days the grin was missing
and he was not alone
'Land Ho!' A shout, and if by magic
Dick's happy grin reappeared.
It grew even wider
at the generosity of South African folk,
of food of every description.
Another ship and Jim and I took
control of his money as he was
wont to visit the canteen too often between
Semolina and sausages of dubious origin
on the menu at every meal.
Dick was happy here.
He could swim, eat English type food
and doze in the midday heat
and not do as mad dogs and Englishmen are said to do.
Another ship, he and five of his friends
are volunteered for coal heaving.
His smile started to disappear until the words
'fore and aft galleys' were mentioned.
His intuition proved absolutely right.
Ginger cake and tea by the pint.
Miles and miles of Iraqi desert
and Dick's cheerful smile beneath his
Crashhat never faltered.
News and Gossip imparted with a happy smile,
He was the mail delivery man.
Italy suited him.
Spaghetti, wine, beautiful women,
fresh fruit growing on trees...
Just north of Bologna,
in an assault boat,
on a river over-looked by a German machine gun post,
Dick Watling died.
Footnote: This is about a Lad from Barking, one of my 'Band of Brothers', from when I first met him.
Newham Writers Workshop
Beginnings and Endings
You asked me out more than once, brought me chocolates and flowers when I agreed. Our first date was dinner and the movie "50 First Dates".
You made me laugh, kept things light and breezy
We had great wonderful times and never a cross word.
We traveled far and wide - had new one of a kind experiences. We shared out bodies but not our minds, we never spoke of love or exchanged endearments... at times you filled me up and then I was again alone, empty.
When you needed comfort, you pushed me away,When I showed I cared you closed the door.
You message on the phone said you needed a break, why and from what or whom I still wonder.
Sharon Ehlinger Porcari
'Till the End of Time'
There is a quote, 'till the end of time.'
Is this not a paradox in the understanding as to the meaning of the word 'time'?
'Time' surely means the continued process of existence. With past, present and future thought as a whole, can 'time' end?
Time is used or wasted. All entities in creation have an allotted portion of time to exist, maybe a few hours for a Mayfly; for a sun, hundreds of billions of years.
History is remembered in time.
Time is the rhythmic patterns of memory.
This year is passing through December
Once vibrant trees, limbs frail with tremor
Frozen lakes, fixed in an icy gaze
Not reacting to the distant suns rays
Skeletal fingers, to life still clinging
From this year to the next, it's winging
Old and wise
The hoary fields, shrouded in white
Time and space
Waiting for the eternal night
THE SNOW'S RETURN
How treacherous the winds that blow
to bury us once more in snow
the slippery slopes that speak of ice
are covered now to entice,
and I that spoke so carelessly
that winter comes but sparingly
will take the words and bury them
beneath the snow that spells mayhem.
For transport stuck upon the roads
and lorries stranded with full loads
schools that can no longer cope
leaving teen-agers with full scope,
commuters stranded by the mile
slowly wending through the pile
to them I must apologise
"No fuss" was just a compromise.
WINTER BEGINS -- 2010
This morning I looked
snow covered the ground
not the grey of London
white lay around,
a beautiful sight
that covered the trees
so still and so soft
not the sign of a breeze.
The first snow of winter
the beginning to me
takes my mind back
to childhood memory,
hands, red and frozen
eyes, shining with mirth
Snow! was adventure
explorers from earth.
I still love the feel
of snow in my hand
melting and thawing
the feeling is grand,
the beginning and ending
when snow turns to slush
winter has been and gone
without any fuss.
Beginnings & Endings
I have to hem a skirt,
which is too long.
Where is the beginning?
Where is the end?
They are two seams.
One will be the beginning,
is in the middle
and the ending
is at the beginning.
It's a circle.
FROM THE OUTSET
Remember how quickly loving turns to regret
And the things we found exiting we try to forget
Remember why that warmth turned so cold
Now we avoid the one we couldn't wait to hold
Remember that great passion is like a raging fire
It is only kept alight by that heat of desire
Remember great pleasures are never meant to last
So enjoy them all you can before they're quickly past
I n The Light Of
Barbed wire on the beaches
Shrapnel in the streets
Blackout curtains at the windows
Keeping in the light
Down the air raid shelter
Huddled under the stairs
Hiding like rats in a cellar
A candle for a light
A screaming sound then silence
The bomb exerts its force
Destroying an entire street
In one flash of light
The A.R.P. stands watching
Alert and on patrol
For a second they do nothing
Blinded by the light
With calloused hands they dug
To free the injured folk
As firemen aimed there hoses high
To douse the blazing light
Many didn't make it
And many tears were shed
Prayers were said to guide them
In God's eternal light
Upon the news of the surrender
Fireworks lit the sky
Bonfires burned and beacons blazed
In defiant light
No air raid warning sounded
Folk slept safe in bed
And new horizons beckoned
With the dawning of the light
A Scene from Tuscany
New Year in Tuscany
Moody and magnificent
Full of contradictions
Hints of spring
Yet awhile away
A taste of sunshine
Exuding gentle warmth.
A stark reminder
The cold air bites
‘Hey! Its winter
And I’m still here!’
Cloaked in mist
And low lying cloud
The hills rest
In their private space
For the summer ahead.
Rain falls, replenishing
Feeding the earth
Passive in its waiting
As the Poplar’s,
Stand tall, all seeing
Sentinels of the land
The drama unfold
Of a New Year
Flowing for All
Arising from grandiose mountains, the
Babbling brook begins its tremulous way
Cascading over smooth, rounded pebbles
Down the steep ravine in a clear ribbon
Encapsulating the picture book scene
Foraging its way, deep below ground
Gushing into the open with renewed joy
Hop, hopping over lichen covered rocks
Into a winding, widening, crystal stream
Juicily nurturing the burgeoning plants
Kicking its heels over tripping rapids
Landing safe to continue its journey
Meandering through spreading plains
No time to rest in its friend, the lake
Onward to join its lover, becoming one
Paddling feet teasing in dappled shallows
Quenching, deepening and broadening; the
River marches on, towards its ultimate goal
Swishing, swashing, lapping its guiding banks
Trout slithering from tickling, trailing fingers
Under bridges, around bends, a medley of
Vessels cut through the reflection of glass
Washing its way with true majesty; spreading
Xxx in the air as it bursts from the estuary, into
Yonder sea, brimming over with success, and
Zeal as it dances in harmony with the waves