I have written of winter, the chill and the rain
and the ice and the snow and the shivers again
of the iron cold muster that lingers and bites
finding its way into warmth with a spite
But throughout all of this always I have half a mind
on the warmer days coming I know soon I'll find
For it's January now but soon I'll see May
and the sunshine that'll soon brighten my day
Where are the sunshine days
now winter's cold hand clasps?
Still there though faded now and weak
as summer never lasts
Yet there in the circle promise lies
and breath bated with a smile
knows with reassurance it
will come back in a while
[An ‘ubi sunt’ poem poses a rhetorical question derived from the Latin “uni sunt qui ante nos fuerunt” (Where are those that went before us?). Indicating nostalgia, an ‘ubi sunt’ poem is about the transient nature of things].
They've been tantalising me a while
growing slowly there
Teazles swaying in the breeze
willing me to share
But I've resisted purposely
as the time has to be right
when words paint this good picture
of the teazles there in sight
And now I feel that time has come
the teazles' teasing ends
allowing me to share the joy
they bring with all my friends
The cherry tree in Ham Field
is in full blossom and looks great
so I'm rather pleased we left things
and decided then to wait
til some warmer Springtime weather
before coming to this place
as now we see it in full glory
as it smiles in Summer's face
In the grass getting greener
there are dandelions hiding
getting bolder with yellow
but time still abiding
because here just in April
the warmth's still a tease
so they need something more
to be fully at ease
On the station the rain was a comfort today
in the blackness of night still around
on the edge of a morning still hidden from view
with a gentle soft rushing of sound
Mist-like it drifted and cooled like a breeze
that summer would oft call a friend
yet it is still March and winter remains
several weeks yet from its natural end
So this morning with whimsy I breathed it all in
finding comfort as thought took a hold
thinking of Spring and the summer beyond
days of warmth to replace these of cold
The beach was quite splendid but isn't it always
when with Wolfgang or there on our own
with the blue of the sky
and the huts by the by
it's a joy to have this close to home
It's great in the Summer and on bright days in Spring
and in Autumn with waves whipped by storm
with the pebbles and sand
the sea of course and
here on Winter days all dressed up warm
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
I stole some summer's magic
kept it back a while to hold
to rekindle momentarily at least
these days when fades the gold
All too soon I'll be forgotten
as lacklustre my waste is laid
and the sun will stay hidden
til come the winters' fade
I'm resigned of course, it happens
every year around this time
as to slumber once more I return
and with all that I am fine
As underneath there's promise
hidden now but all too soon
returning me to glory
as you will see next June
There's promise in the Western sky
this morning here I think
for as the sun begins to rise
he's tipped me here a wink
No letting go to cooler times
not yet and not today
as we cling on to summer
though the Fall's not far away
I say that as there's fragrance
yet subtle but still there
of woodsmoke and the turning
of the season in the air
...all about me and my life in words. I write most days, carrying an ideas book around in which I capture a word snapshot of life around me. So there's a lot here about Sussex and the sea and anything else I see that inspires.
The pictures are mine too. Some taken to match a poem; some poems written to match a pic; others chosen because they work well with words written.
Jemverse is life in words. Hope you enjoy the reading as much as I enjoy the writing...