Tarmount Shepherds

Now where people park their cars
on tarmac for some shopping
once stood an open field where
you'd oft see sheep a-hopping
A shepherd's hut stood to the south
close to its southern border
fenced in with wooden latticework
to keep the sheep in order
On Tarmount Lane in Shoreham town
the shepherd's field you'd see
for many years with grazing
for the sheep that wandered free

©Jemverse

Photo – from a postcard in the author’s collection

[This picture, taken from the top of St Mary de Haura’s church tower, shows an early 20th century view of Shoreham looking east towards the chemical works on the beach and the harbour entrance. You can see the shepherd’s hut and field in the bottom left hand corner. It’s now a car-park.]

Surprise

So as I sit here writing poems
casting my life into words
capturing nuance as it transpires
from mundane to the absurd
for this it is my passion
a thing I've always done
never still my pen has been
since I was just begun
and long my it continue
for my essence in here lies
always finding things to say
to bring joy and yes, surprise

©Jemverse

Photo – Sally Croucher (edited)

For good intent

Little ditties written free
clearly for the day
crafted in the gift of rhyme
in my own Jemverse way
Gifted to the reader who
by whim or happenstance
takes them for a purpose
or otherwise by chance
And always by the poet's hand
no discontent to tally
each verse provided daily
here good sentiment to carry

Rhyme my raison d’être

Sun streams through my window
blank pages waiting there
inspiration with this warming light
words gather here to share
and as invigorated poet I
seize pen and write away
plucking words to hone my craft
in my own special way
Rhyme my raison d'être
tells its story here once more
in this daily visitation 
of what the poet's in me for

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Like a friend II

Many times in these hours
I have fine honed my craft
some say I am mad
and others I'm daft
but this edge before morning
this whispering time
is perfect for me
for writing a line
when the words like a river
flow from my pen
and the poet embraces
them each like a friend

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Free writing #1

I had no words this morning
at least none written down
my poems book page empty
the one I carry round
but then it's been so busy
and the house is not our own
sharing it with offspring
now older and full grown

So much preoccupation
excitement, laughter, joy
and little time left over
for a poet to employ
the tools his craft lays open
to capture what life brings
though always left is memory
amongst those precious things

That and the social media
around us everywhere
capturing the moments
that we always freely share
so when on days like this 
when free writing is my thing
I'm grateful for that gift
as some lines it's sure to bring

So though I had no words
at least none written down
there's always some uplifting
and rarely cause to frown
As a snapshot someone's taken
like this one is a gift
which crafted by the poet
will bring the words to lift

©Jemverse

Photo – Bezza Croucher

Caught unaware

Catch myself sometimes, sideways glance
when I'm in vacant mood
pensive with my many thoughts
on which I often brood
and when I do I'll try to find
the spark I know is there
ignite it and release the vibe
when I'm caught unaware

Because when that is ignited
the fire leaps to the page
and I am then encouraged
with my words to re-engage
life becomes more tangible
and sunshine lights the way
to guide the form and syntax
in my writing every day

So yes it's good to sometimes
whene'er you get the chance
to seize a captured moment
and use it there to prance
upon yourself at random
whilst you are standing there
for release from pensive lethargy
when you're caught unaware

©Jemverse

Photo – Emily Rose Croucher

Seasons songs

Golden my streets
but it won't be for long
for though sweet are my words
quite short is my song
They look lovely right now
when the sunshine is bright
but lacklustre in rain
and leaden at night

And as winter creeps in
my songs peter out
for I run out of lyrics
with gusto to shout
and my golden turns grey
as the music it dies
for instead of the carpet
hard frost often lies

But there's always a promise
of new music to come
and though golden my fade
when autumn is done
Winter's fine voice
waits there in the wings
and it won't be too long
'til her new song she sings

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Of mornings and writers

In this still hour of darkness
before morning's begun
when the night time remains
with mere vestige of sun
you'd be forgiven for thinking
it just wouldn't come
and that darkness forever
would be the deal done
But if you did you would always
miss out on the fun
for this time of day
is a long way from glum

It's a time when the writer
finds words which just flow
when inspiration has tangible
substance you know
and the lines just appear
with the syntax to flow
to craft into stories
for poets to show
So one day you should visit
at daylight's first glow
as in your heart I am sure
you know it's where to go

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

The found to the seeker

I looked and I found
the word that was lost
and despite everything
it was worth all the cost
for this word is the essence
the 'je ne sais quoi'
the one with a nod
you will say an 'aha'
and with kindred spirit
agree here with me
the word was worth finding
quite wholeheartedly

For it says everything
without substance or flair
about all that is good
and captured right there
It encapsulates all
seeking no recognition
no praise or aplomb
no prize or commission
It simply does all
it's intended to do
and needs no permission
from me or from you

For despite what we thought
it is ever there
the found to the seeker
with something to share

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics