Samantha Beardon's Blog, page 32

Anthology Askew Communications

Tomorrow sees the launch of the fourth anthology published by Rheteroric Askew. Its full of short stories, flash fiction and poetry. I have some pieces of flssh fiction in the book. 

It is available on kindle or amazon print. 

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New Anthology

https://www.facebook.com/groups/551246565025153/permalink/868569919959481/

Butterfly Love

Floating high floating free

Floating high floating free

Abundant beauty for  eyes to see

Abundant beauty for  eyes to see

To see  beauty, for eyes  – free  floating

Floating  high – abundant  

Gracious butterfly fill me with wonder

Gracious butterfly fill me with wonder

Remind me of the beauty love

Remind me of the beauty love

Gracious love remind me of the  butterfly

Fill me with beauty

Love transcends human frailties

Love transcends human frailties

Sacrifice is made for love 

Sacrifice is made for love 

Frailties made for love transcends

Human love is sacrifice 

 

Butterfly to  see –  beauty is love

Gracious floating free,  the eyes 

Transends  human beauty 

Sacrifice  is for frailties floating high

For abundant love fill me 

With love made for me.

I’m going to issue a challenge to y’all, but there’s no specific time limit on it as this could get rough. In exploring different poetic forms, I found a modern form that cracked me up and I had to try called the Paradelle. Here are the rules for writing one:

1. The paradelle is a 4-stanza poem.

2. Each stanza consists of 6 lines.

3. For the first 3 stanzas, the 1st and 2nd lines should be the same; the 3rd and 4th lines should also be the same; and the 5th and 6th lines should be composed of all the words from the 1st and 3rd lines and only the words from the 1st and 3rd lines.

4. The final stanza should be composed of all the words in the 5th and 6th lines of the first three stanzas and only the words from the 5th and 6th lines of the first three stanzas.

Memories

A Haibun – Japenese form that includes a prose poem and a Haiku.

Time stood still as

You walked into the water spangled mist

Memories washed over me

The sound of your voice

Your smile that special look

Drowned by the sound of roaring water

Pain intensified

Overhead swooping bird 

Steals happiness drops sadness

Memories reborn 

Seasons

As we walk life’s tortuous paths 

we encounter  seasons 

as life rolls past

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter

pass with certitude

 a familiar refrain

weather patterns change to

unexpected patterns

less no snow more rain

making the season harder

to explain

As we walk life’s tortuous paths 

our lives are like  seasons 

Winter may seem to set in, to blight 

spring,summer or autumn when dreams are dashed

and life seems cold and bleak

when setbacks lash

a chill cold wind  blows, hunches shoulders

when desolation becomes the norm

and the path is strewn with boulders

then winter chill seems set to last

a whole eternity

but seasons turn

springs hope of new life

the abundance of summer

the colours of autumn

and winter too has a beauty

As we walk life’s tortuous paths 

we encounter  seasons 

each has its own beauty 

Wide awake

Five thirty in the morning laying wide awake

mouth  parched like the desert, bladder like a lake

close  my eyes and try to doze, need to be comatose

curled down on my side, breathing deep

willing myself back to sleep

mind  has other ideas, goes over issues, raise needless fears

bladder grumbling hitting high, feels as if it’s to my ears

 I  rise, to my body I acquiesce

Looking out the window,I  see the emerging sun

A new day has started, no need to be glum

Sleep time over start the day

I was wide awake anyway.

Padlocked Love.

Padlocked Love

So many padlocks

Locked with so much love

Each locked compartment

Bursting at the seams

Once upon a time

 the symbol of fidelity

Lovers clipped them to a rail

Threw away the key

Thousands of padlocks 

Sitting in a row

A sign of relationships

Waiting time to grow

Years pass by and the

world begins to tarnish

Locked to the rail

With no hint of varnish

Could we view those couples

Starting off brand new 

Ten years on how many

Are still true

Are they welded close

Like the padlock on the rail

Or split assunder the lock

All atrail? 

© Samantha Beardon

My home

Inside my bag are packed the things

that fill my heart with joy

the faded, threadbare shawl

that whispers 

a tinplate soldier toy.

Inside my bag wrapped well in cloth 

a tiny mirror fragment

immortalised inside that glass

the ghosts of those I love

Some memories are intransigent

Inside my bag stowed very safe

two  engraved silver napkin rings

a wooden bowl of cedar wood

an ebony black queen a

reminder of past sins

Inside my bag I have my home

memories, from days gone by

I lost the rest, I am alone

I will be till I die.

The hostel for the homeless 

Is where I rest my head

My bag stops my neurosis

My home sits under my bed. 

Whispering Truth to Power

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The Line

A SYMETRELLE

This is the line do not cross

Don’t refuse to talk that’s dumb unjust

Don’t Lash out – it will only breed mistrust

In relationships lose the moral high ground

Chose your reactions wisely, they need to be sound 

Your drivers your beliefs turn judgements round

Try to think, not just react choices abound

Air your problems calmly, don’t just fuss

Look out for fairness, listen don’t hush

This is the line do not cross