Same

More than fifty years on
and the smell on the air
is the same to me now
as it was way back there
That of sea and the tar
and the pitch and the oil
and the sweat and the grime
from the long days of toil
Down there on the docks
though so much has changed
some things like the smells
are exactly the same

©Jemverse

Photo – Shoreham Harbour, West Sussex, March 2018 – Jempics

Advertisements

A poet through and through

And now at last it’s quiet
Just the ticking of the clock
and the humming of the fridge
Little here for me to knock
So before I climb the stairs
and get the rest my body needs
My pen must get to paper
as some inspiration pleads

A few more words to capture
how I’m feeling at this time
sitting here at ten o’clock
to write a little rhyme
It’s part of what I really am
a poet through and through
So when the need write is there
I dare not that eschew

©Jemverse

Photo – ‘A poet through and through’ in the making, January 23 2018 – Jempics

The small hours

Five a.m. It’s very quiet
not a sound here to be heard
Just the ticking of the mantle clock
and an early morning bird

By and by I’ll leave the house
and head to London’s towers
on the red-eye out of Shoreham
in the silence of small hours

©Jemverse

James Brindley

James Brindley was an engineer
born seventeen seventy-two
Who later, when he’d qualified
canals and water knew
He designed many aqueducts
and tunnels through the rocks
along with single traffic gates
in narrow water locks

Fitting then the Canal House
on Bridge Street, Birmingham
should bear his name upon the wall
with fitting epigram
For out there at the water’s edge
his gift to us remains
Where waterways and watercraft
pay homage to his name

©Jemverse

Photo – The Canal House pub (formerly ‘The James Brindley’) (and before that, a canal storehouse and boat works), Bridge Street, Birmingham – Jempics

Rhymer

A poem each day
which time after time
find words which together
fit well and then rhyme
It’s the art of the poet
a gift some would say
and something which I
publish here every day

©Jemverse

Photo – Jempics

Jemverse

And if I thought for a moment
that the words wouldn’t come
My pen laid to rest
and my writing days done
I would know then that life
had come to an end
and, bereft my abandon
like the loss of a friend

But thankfully there is
no sign of that day
As life keeps on showing
new things to relay
And my pen is as ever
as busy can be
For the words keep on flowing
and coming to me

For that is what Jemverse
my outlet’s about
Sometimes with a whisper
Sometimes with a shout
But always with gusto
and a joie de vivre
For that’s always something
we need I believe

©Jemverse

Tangible

I was only away for just over a week
But that’s enough to get used to the heat
And enough now I’m home to feel at a loss
And that somehow things aren’t quite complete
It was tangible there, like something you touched
and present by day and at night
But back home in England, there’s a chill in the air
even though the sunshine’s still bright

Part of me thinks I could live with a summer
that in essence is with me all year
But I know I’d miss Sussex, the place I call home
as I really do love living here
Yes, tangible heat all year round would be great
But of course there’s always a price
For there’s nothing to better the green I have here
In Sussex, my home, which is nice

©Jemverse

Photo – the expanse of Sussex green – Jempics

Previous Older Entries

%d bloggers like this: