In The Pink

Come live with me and be my love, a nd we will all the pleasures prove  That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, w oods or steepy mountain yields.  And we will sit upon the rocks, s eeing the shepherds feed their flocks,  By shallow rivers to whose falls, m elodious birds sing madrigals.  And I will make thee beds of roses a nd a thousand fragrant posies,  A cap of flowers, and a kirtle e mbroidered all with leaves of myrtle;  A gown made of the finest wool, w hich from our pretty lambs we pull;  Fair lined slippers for the...

I am a big fan of poetry, both writing and reading, and given my recent blue obscession thought I would seek out a blue poem. Poetry is very subjective and often when I go searching for a new verse it takes me ages to find something that strikes a chord, not so tonight. On my second search I came across this lovely little piece! (Although I have to disagree with him slightly, for me roses yellow are best.) Blue Roses - Rudyard Kipling Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love's delight. She would none of all my posies Bade me gather her blue roses. Half the world I wandered through, Seeking where such flowers grew. Half the world unto my quest Answered me with laugh and jest. Home I came at wintertide, But my silly love had died Seeking with her latest breath Roses from the arms of Death. It may be beyond the grave She shall find what she would have. Mine was but an idle quest  Roses white and red are best! ...

When I started this blog I was writing poems fairly regularly. After a prolonged period of what I suppose may be termed 'writers block' I stopped trying and have not written any verse for.....longer than I would like to admit. I find peace in writing and some of the things I compose I enjoy re-visiting. I have been reading through some today to try and inspire me to write again and have decided to re-publish this one. It's not my favourite, but I enjoy it and can still vividly remember the day it popped into my head. These words I place upon the page bear witness to the telling, of time and space I occupy, and moments that I dwell in. Of experiences interpreted with mortal imperfection, of sporadic impulses bereft of all direction. Of paths that I have ventured down seeking illumination, of venom that I have endured to recreate sensation. Of countless souls encountered, of faces memorised, of deeds born of pure intent, of some intent disguised. Of dreams that I have realise...

Violated by this thought in me Shouting, crying. Spirit let this matter be! You are too much for me, too strong to bear and too free.

Stillness in me no thought roaming free and this I am content to be Hushed is my breath lulled my sway Peaceful I am, and for now will stay For mine is to soar, reckless in time. Searching for aspects of being and mind But here in the bosom of winters’ concern. Still I am, and stillness I learn.

Following on from my last post I have been thinking more, about poetry and writing, and reading back through some of the verse I have written over the past couple of years. The poems I have written and like bring me joy to read because of the connection with the original inspiration. They are perfect 'diary' entries for my life whether good poems or not however, impossible to achieve on a daily basis or even at regular intervals, as is required of a comprehensive diary I feel. Today was a key date regarding our prospective house purchase or possible relocation. We met with our current landlords and discussed things, we now wait to hear the exact valuation of the house. I came across this poem today which I wrote when we became aware that we may have to move out of this house and I enjoyed reading it. So, I thought I'd post it again, it all still applies. Our House With dawns emergence morning penetrates Through every portal in your shell that shields and dominates The early...

This poem was co-written with Sunpat for a Christmas challenge made by his parents a few years ago. It is traditional to have a new game each year and they have varied from: draw a picture that denotes a Christmas carol, make a hat for the day that symbolises your profession, murder in the dark......which pretty much gets played every year, and write your own Christmas poem. There are generally lots of kids there, and plenty of adults who like being kids for the day! Sunpat and I wrote this one together, in the car on the way down actually, and I am proud of it. We wrote it from the point of view of our dogs, who were an integral part of every family get together, and we thought it should be posted at this festive time of year, in remembrance and tribute. I hope you enjoy it. 'Come Fill Our Bowls' Greetings from old County Durham we are so very glad to be here, seeing all of your friendly faces smiling and so full of cheer. It's been along time since we've seen you but ...

I’m caught in the headlights again The 5am roadsters make this their domain I turn off the byway, the world goes insane I’m caught in the headlights again I’m blind in the glare of their haste Aggressive, invading my allotted space They throw down the gauntlet, endorsing the chase I’m blind in the glare of their haste I’m tempted to retaliate To punish their rude and superior state To inform of peril, atonement create I’m tempted to retaliate I’m caught in the headlights again Caught in the slipstream; where madmen reign I turn off the highway, leave them to inflame I’m out of the headlights again

How the wind buffets and spirals this day While birds brave the updrafts to steal food away The trees in expression holdfast their leaves still And branch tips submit to the seasons strong will

Rain falls this day and washes the dust and the debris away, as I am soothed by its’ temperate patter, its’ trickling sway.

In the Pink is 1 year old today! It's been an excellent blogging year and I have greatly enjoyed developing this blog. I have found that having this as an outlet has encouraged me to pursue my existing hobbies and develop some new ones to. I have also made contact with people all over the world via their blogs and look forward to seeing their postings and sharing a small part of their lives. This has been a most worth while pursuit for me. In light of this I have decided to use this weeks 'weekly six' as an opportunity to re-post some of my favourite items from the last 12 months, and comment on some significant factors relating to this blog. Item 1: Verse Since In The Pink began I have written many poems, and posted most of them. I enjoy the exploration of language that writing brings. I have re-read the poems that have been posted so far and chosen this to re-post. (If you want to read more of my 'literary ramblings' click on the verse tag here or in 'In the P...

I have set the madman loose, he is free to move the pathways. I have cut the murderer from his noose, to re-offend as always. I have unleashed a beast and summoned demons motive. I am at my very least and yet my most creative. I push through the experience, in search of my egress. Through language I seek release, to purge and self confess. But this aspect all possessing is merely soul segmented. I am at my very least, but entire and just fragmented. I am being through succession, moulded and affected. By experience I’ve grown, both witnessed and imparted. So this moment in it’s darkness, is merely born of weakness. I am at my very least, but never the defeatist.

Oh illusive slumber how I long for your caress. To sooth me in this darkest hour, to lead me to my rest Where weightless in your bosom I am moved to meditate, the agonies and ecstasies unconscious thought creates My waking mind torments me, and time in malice slows. A captive of reality, deprived of my repose Oh illusive slumber, grant your blessing, hear my plea. Release me from this tortured state, and set my psyche free

I have found a Vogon Poetry Generator, have a go here ! This is my Vogon Poem. See, see the sweetness sky Marvel at its big scarlet depths. Tell me, bob do you Wonder why the human ignores you? Why its foobly stare makes you feel dissappointed. I can tell you, it is Worried by your mergelfuntbarblery facial growth That looks like A cheese. What's more, it knows Your bum potting shed Smells of frog. Everything under the big sweetness sky Asks why, why do you even bother? You only charm poos.

Only In Dreams. Come my love and comfort me, for my heart is weighted deprived of you I exist, with soul un-satiated Within each day a wonder of this world's revealed in splendour yet wonderment is lessened with no means to share the venture Though I believe in independent being, you have given the joy of companionship, altruistically driven And mine is now to walk alone, until when reunited we share again each moment blessed, and recall all we've sighted So this my plea, come comfort me, for the wait is laboured and if I reach your image in sleep, each aspect will be savoured.

Jackdaw Jackdaw lands in my garden at dawn He lands with trepidation An un-ease about his form Jackdaw nesting high in chimney Evolved to seek advantage Where he nurtures family Jackdaw territorial, protecting his supplies Magpie may be family But their needs are too high Jackdaw defending dominant in tree Seven in their number Seven I can see Jackdaw, eyes of blue, plumage deep and matt Jackdaw in my view Jackdaw sleek and black

Her smile ignites her eyes, her sway given of grace Naturally seducing, while instinctively chaste Alive with a passion, few could boast to share Tempestuous for instants, yet wise as she is fair Bathed in her favour, I stand adorned She is all woman, and of all women born.

An Orbital View From this my orbital view The earth revealed in portion With visionary skew Indulged in pious notion I conceive an earth restored Cleansed of all offending Our living globe, our gaian Unique in its creation Now volatile, now tranquil Achieving equilibrium Now exquisite now intricate Witness Orb in majesty A matriarch, merciless Yet infinite in nurture From this my orbital view I strain to shape our future

All a glow, through this I grow.