Today.
Today, dreams left behind I fall awake,
still dozed, oust myself
out of dark-doldrums, pummeling eyes
and promise the sun to
visit new heather just birthing its buds
on the heath's roof.
Today I will reach heights above windy
ridges of mist and fill
both my hands with pocketed crumbs
to feed ragged robins
who on colder days haunt the moorland
for warming food.
Today, courting sweet Cornish morning
I choose to go breakfastless
and match Tessa my dog in chasing her
make-believe meals
of tossed seaweed and bother beached
gulls with loud play.
Today I shall sand-hop cloud-shadows
of shifting light and
voiceless give praise for this boisterous
paradise where I
reside then carpe-ing diem I dress and
am quickly away.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: August 1st, 2017 02:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 84
- Users favorite of this poem: Michael Edwards
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Comments9
Fabulous! What a way to start the day! Beautifully written as always. I might catch up to you later, have to have my coffee first! 🙂
A real stunner Fay - I am so envious of your poetic talent.
Thanks FAY ~ Your lovely character and spiritual awareness ~ shapes the Person you are and makes you a daily a Blessing to this site. But the clotted cream on the scone is that yiou are blessed to live in Cornwall ! A pristine peninsular with much more than its fair share of natural and human beauty. Thanks for caring & sharing ~ Carpe Diem indeed ! Yours as ever ~ BRIAN
Your comments are always so supportive Brian and I truly agree that the Cornish peninsular is a wonderful inspiration to both writers and artists as its wild beauty forever changes. Glad you enjoyed the read my friend.
Lovely evocative morning writing. Im in Cornwall too today not far from Launceston, maybe seeing the same skies.
Good that you know how awesome the skies over Cornwall can be my friend - - hope your day went well in Launceston area - -some gorgeous beauty-spots not far from there.
We are blessed indeed to be living in our personal paradises ... you in Cornwall and I on the white-sand Gulf beaches of Alabama. It's a gifted life, but I like to think that we've somehow earned it ... you think? Fine poem this fine morning, Fay!
Your part of the globe sounds wonderful too Louis and how much inspiration we as poets can get from our surroundings provided they are still left untouched - yes - we truly earn what was meant for us humans if we treat the planet with care and concern - - a lovely thought. Thank you for sharing it.
Wonderful write Fay. May all tpyour days bring you peace and joy.
All that to start the day - and more during the day! I shall be worn out before I've hardly started! heehee.
What a joy to share such a morning with you! I love my rolling hills and mountains, but always crave the coast. Thank you for another beauty.
With you in sharing the flow of mornings dear Heather and whether tis mountains or coast we have so much to admire and allow to inspire us. Your comment are always so welcome and uplifting - thank you for reading my work.
Wracked With Ratiocination
When Writing
no shortage of familiar metier real
(material) aye attest
welling up within thy breast
merely a predicament
how to winnow
junk bonded barnacled
accretion encrusted
amidst gems buried
within treasure chest,
yet vigilant to sift,
viz figurative fine tooth comb
uprooting excrescence
laired plethora
incognito, sans faux
couture doggerel
habiliment dressed
necessitating painstaking
poetic rock climbing
ala scaling Mount Everest
imbedding, hooking, grappling
fingered duple crampons
aye confessed
to myself, the futility
to wrest Shakespearean nuggets,
which analogy
hyperbole you guessed
nor does modesty allow
me feeble effort
(trite) on par with August bard,
who would rank him,
the highest allotted value
upon assigned (absolute)
value of playing card,
hence tis the gold standard thee
verse a tile scribe based
at Stratford on Avon
this here wordsmith wields
his own literary might
always on guard
to stave reprehensible tar tarred plaque
like encrustation glued hard
akin to a geode methodical
mother lode extraction jarred
by the slightest distraction,
thus with boldness sigh hermetically
seal off every cerebral fold
vectors against
superfluous mind chatter
can upend fragile tenuous hold
when merest wisp of nearly
elusive mental thread escapes,
I feign scold
ding this paperback
bestseller wannabe with told
apt to captcha bliss so Harris, thus
keep dreaming envisioning
an green acred Edenic demesne
sprawling across
wide webbed wold.
adieu - Matthew Scott Harris
alias [email protected]
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