Today.

Fay Slimm.

 

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 Offline)
  • Published: August 1st, 2017 02:22
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 84
  • Users favorite of this poem: Michael Edwards
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Comments +

Comments9

  • FredPeyer

    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! 🙂

  • Michael Edwards

    A real stunner Fay - I am so envious of your poetic talent.

  • BRIAN & ANGELA

    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

    • Fay Slimm.

      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.

    • burning-embers

      Lovely evocative morning writing. Im in Cornwall too today not far from Launceston, maybe seeing the same skies.

      • Fay Slimm.

        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.

      • Louis Gibbs

        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!

        • Fay Slimm.

          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.

        • Goldfinch60

          Wonderful write Fay. May all tpyour days bring you peace and joy.

        • orchidee

          All that to start the day - and more during the day! I shall be worn out before I've hardly started! heehee.

        • Heather T

          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.

          • Fay Slimm.

            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.

          • rew4er2nail

            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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