Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “My Mind is Flying” is in this week’s edition. … To read my poem, please click on the link below to visit the article, at Coffee House Writers Magazine. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/my-mind-is-flying/
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
Deep into the Twilight Zone At that moment above the horizon When the sun is sliding down Underneath his eiderdown
Nature dons her noble crown And declares to everyone in town “There’s no need to be a sad clown or wear a worried frown. Take your time to have a look around, the world is not falling down”
Last week, Derrick posted an interesting article about “Recycling Rocks” which prompted the pebbles in my head to tumble around. Please Note: Derrick Knight took the photos, and he kindly allowed me to reproduce them on my poetry site. >> https://derrickjknight.com/2025/02/18/recycling-rocks
Rocks
Our buried rocks are not in the wrong Isn’t that where they belong?
Some rocks like to live below the ground Others lie exposed and love to be found
I have heard of people owning pet rocks Do they put them to bed, in pyjamas and socks?
Some humans have never had their minds unlocked They are an uninventive and uninteresting stock That wear ear-muffs made from yesterday’s iceblocks
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 