Over at Weekly Prompts, the Wednesday challenge is Supersize. Please visit their fabulous site by clicking on >> HERE … and I imagine the Blackbird’s domain, to be “supersized”
Hello dear readers and followers, I am a writer for “Coffee House Writers magazine” (USA), on a fortnightly basis, and my poem “The Intrusive Gale”, is in this week’s edition of Coffee House Writers Magazine. … To Read my poem, please click on the link below to visit the article, at Coffee House Writers Magazine. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/the-intrusive-gale/
We are both exhausted After Saturday’s strenuous market day And today we are calmly unwinding At the convivial Box Office Cafe I am drafting this poem And Frankie is quietly resting The Sunday sun is warmly shining But yesterday’s cold wind is still howling
We didn’t get to sleep Until after midnight And today, the relaxing ambience Of our favourite destination Is the place for some peaceful hibernation Away from our poetry workstation
The weather was not kind For our Makers Market Day The afternoon was wet with an icy wind Which naturally kept the crowd away
I did not sell any books But again, my poem lucky Dip pot It was an intriguing and delightful success As all the envelopes contained my web address And I had some happy customers Who said they followed my website Their kind words have made my night
I’m driving along Beach Parade Which overlooks the shimmering bay and flocks of seagulls are flying every-which-way
I’m on the way to my Market Day Where my poetry books will be on display Hopefully, I will sell a few more today
I had to leave Frankie at home for the day He’s a well-behaved doggie, and he should be okay With his water bowl and food tray
He has a book to gnaw on, by Hemingway that I gave to him for his birthday Also, he likes chasing the seagulls away But actually, he’ll sleep most of the day
Today’s Throwback Friday poem was originally written in August 2018. The story is about the occurrence of my first stroke on the 20th of September, 2000.
Who’s Left to Row the Boat
The storms are too many to count Emotional lows had weathered me out Her journey with MS was a struggle How much lower could our lives sink
After fourteen years of our battles, I suffered a Stroke An ambulance came, my brain was in a boat Floating out to sea, overboard and panic-stricken I wasn’t swimming, barely awake, and drifting I had fallen, nothing was working, and not talking She’s crying, I’m sobbing, my heart is dying And who’s left to row the boat, I’m thinking I was jabbed with a needle and silently sleeping
I awoke a day later, in hospital, feeling wasted My face was limp, mouth parched, was that death I tasted My mind was active, I thought, where is she I knew I was bad; the room was all blurry to me Strong anxieties had set in, I needed to know Nurses came to me, I pleaded, I wanted to go “Help me to see her, just give my bed a tow Please let me go, before I’m covered in snow”
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 