After I had left the hem Without women I could not have survived my time I would not have braved the climb Ladies, you are my rhyme My mother’s of thyme
Helping me roll away the stone Maintaining these old bones Repairing the bridges, I have burnt Reciting the messages, I have learnt Cheering from the sidelines Supporting my broken designs Women of My Rhymes Mothers for a lifetime
Usually written in iambic pentameter. Comprised of three stanzas: a tercet, quatrain, and sestet. All three of the lines in the opening tercet are refrains. The poem follows this rhyme pattern:
Line 1: A Line 2: B1 Line 3: B2
Line 4: a Line 5: b Line 6: A Line 7: B1
Line 8: a Line 9: b Line 10: b Line 11: A Line 12: B1 Line 13: B2
Another Hot Summer’s Day (a Madrigal)
Another hot summer’s day of clear blue skies The sun says “I’m allowed to turn up the heat” And the moon is just looking for a cool seat
For his normal silvery midday disguise And feeling sorry for the world’s sunburnt feet Another hot summer’s day of clear blue skies The sun says “I’m allowed to turn up the heat”
Today is just another day for the flies Where they thrive on digesting everything sweet And infesting the uncovered sunbaked meat Another hot summer’s day of clear blue skies The sun says “I’m allowed to turn up the heat” And the moon is just looking for a cool seat
The local yachts are out sailing on the calm bay The coastal birds are flying above the cool seaspray
I sense it is nature’s way of reminding me about my dream To clip on my wings and fly far away Toward the northern hemisphere and visit my cousins on Vancouver Island
“Welcome,” said Nature with a grin The second day of Autumn Was wet with a cold westerly wind And the hard pouring rain Felt like icy needles and pins
However, without commands or demands Here I live, in this far away land Where a coward’s hammer and nails can not pierce my hand Or deter my protests from a flooded grandstand
I hear only helter skelter from the expellers As I think about the children Sheltering in their damp cellars Hiding from Putin’s hard rain A deluge of bombs and bullets Callously sent to kill and maim
Yesterday My world was a tomb Today I fled my room Away From the gloom
Out there The sky was grey
Do you know? Not all clouds have dull shadows Rainbows know how to play the banjo Sunflowers can grow in the snow And all birds enjoy putting on an airshow In the middle of Nature’s achromatic afterglow
there is a fine line between pleasure and pain there are bad moments between life and death there is black space between here and the sun there is night when there is no light and there is only dark on the other side of the moon
I am a hybrid of mixed origin An off-spring of my parents Dad was a red-head with freckles From Tasmania, a convict great-grandson Mum had dark hair and olive skin A German and Scottish background She was born in Penang Malaysia They were worlds apart The great war shaped their paths Time and peace brought them together I’m their hybrid, with freckles and dark hair
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 