The sun rises early from the east, bringing forth a feeling of utter peace.
Pallets rich in colours reds, orange and tinges of blue.
Spread out on a canvas for all to view.
See how at once a beam of light, pierces the darkness with all it’s might.
Land and sea slowly appear bathed in a transcendent light.
Trawlers laden with their catch, slowly chug across the bay.
The gentle humming of their engines as they, make way.
Rays of the sun akin to pearls lay on their wake.
Heading for port before dawn breaks.
All at once the sun breaks through,
Yawning and stretching: in full view.
Seagulls rise to start their day, picking and pecking along their way.
Taking flight, squawking annoyingly. while competing for fish noisily.
A Blackbird sings his happy song, up in the trees where he belongs.
Waking all to another morning.
Heralding in the August Dawn.
Ole Mcfly was a silly old guy, what silly old guy was Ole Mcfly.
Rode about on a huge yellow digger, gun in his hand with finger on the trigger.
What was he doing? Nobody knew, didn’t have a clue, thought him a fool.
Caught him once taking a nap, there he sat, cat upon his lap, feather in his cap.
By his side lay a haversack, an old grey mack and rustic sack.
A yard of ale and milking pail.
Are you well? Pray tell, I enquired of him, having noticed the paleness of his skin.
He awoke as I spoke with a tear in his eye, I felt so sad for Ole Mcfly.
Quite well child, now go on your way.
You’ll have more dire things to do, on this blessed day.
I enjoyed my chat with Ole McFly
Ole Mcfly that troubled old guy.
The moment when millions of stars just don’t turn on,
You know it’s now because of the stupid episode when you should’ve said “no”,
The short “yes” entailed you feeling drowning, yet not completely gone.
One… two… three… strikes the clock,
The approaching morning surrounds cells with shock,
Will the day bring about another mock?
No news or surprise: once or twice this has been here,
Hopeless, breathless, sleepless and full of fear,
Alive? You are. Seem to be. But cannot shed a tear.
The blackest clothes you’ve been in for a while,
Those which don’t pull away sparing a tiniest smile,
Though it may sound absurd, you will find yourself the desired isle.
T’was love at first sight when I met thee, all of a dither silly old me.
Dedicated a poem just for thee, all about you being my, ‘Oak Tree’.
Wait for me.
Walking out how proud I be,
Knowing how much you care and are devoted to me.
Fell over once, banged my knee.
You picked me up and made me tea.
Wait for me.
Now in our twilight years, be you and me.
Still dedicating poems to thee.
Should I go afore I’ll wait for thee.
Promise My Lover, you’ll
Wait for me.
Charming both clothed in mist and clouds
And naked in the direct sun
Revealing the greyish buildings,
All ancient monuments of national pride
Remembering Scottish heroes
Greyish city with islands of green parks
Tasting a wee bit of Highlands hiking Arthur’s Seat
Watching the sunset from Calton Hill
Taking in the city, never having enough
Wandering along Princess Street or the Royal Mile
Soaking in the artistic atmosphere
While visiting museums and galleries
Or all the unique cafés always sitting in
Discovering a different culture just to
Find out it’s not that different after all
Yet the best of all is meeting new friends
“Haste ye back!”, told me one of them
And haste back, aye, I will – See you soon!
August is here and it means a new topic! 🙂 As we are in the middle of summer it would be nice to share our travel experience so the topic is: Taste of other places. We are looking forward to reading your poems.
Marie, Jarek, Adam 🙂