I’d like to thank Gina, of Singledust, and her glorious poem, ‘last pure light’, on “Go Dog Go Cafe”, for inspiring me to write my poem, ‘The Golden Beach’, please click >> Here, to read her wonderful words. Also referring to this weeks, Weekly Photo Prompt: Tradition, yes it’s an Australian tradition to spend Christmas at the beach
Staring over the ripples in my cuppa tea
Gazing at the future forecast by the tea leaf’s
I’m visualising waves upon the morning sea
And the sensation of the sand beneath my feet
Oh to walk on the golden beach again
Inhale the fragrance of the wind caressing my skin
And to swim in the rejuvenating ocean
Feel the surf’s spray on my body, like warm rain
The tentacles of fresh air draw you in securely
An aura of purity and peace abounds richly
There’s a crispness from the sun that warms your heart
And a cleansing depth within the surrounds that soothes your soul
Hello dear readers, I’ve been having trouble comprehending and concentrating on reading your articles/posts, of more than two stanza’s or one short paragraph in length. So my physiotherapist has given me some tasks to help improve my situation. Today I’m typing up one of favourite longer poem’s, by Leonard Cohen, called the “Ballad Of The Absent Mare”. I hope you enjoy his brilliant writing here.
Ballad Of The Absent Mare: By Leonard Cohen
Say a prayer for the cowboy, his mare’s run away
and he’ll walk till he finds her, his darling, his stray
But the river’s in flood and the roads are awash
and the bridges break up in the panic of loss
And there’s nothing to follow, there’s nowhere to go
She’s gone like the summer, she’s gone like the snow
And the crickets are breaking his heart with their song
as the day caves in and the night is all wrong
Did he dream, was it she who went galloping past
and bent down the fern and broke open the grass
and printed the mud with the iron and the gold
that he nailed to her feet when he was the lord
And though she goes grazing a minute away
he tracks her all night and he tracks her all day;
blind to her presence except to compare
his injury here with her punishment there
Then at home on his branch in the highest tree
a songbird sings out so suddenly
Oh the sun is warm and the soft winds ride
on the willow trees by the riverside
And the world is sweet and the world is wide
and she’s there where the light and the darkness divide
and steam’s coming off her, she’s huge and she’s shy
and she steps on the moon when she paws at the sky
And she comes to his hand but she’s not really tame
She longs to be lost and he longs for the same
And she’ll bolt and she’ll plunge through the first open pass
to roll and to feed in the sweet mountain grass
Or she’ll make a break for the high plateau
where there’s nothing above and there’s nothing below
And it’s time for their burden, it’s time for the whip
Will she walk through the flame, can he shoot from the hip
So he binds himself to the galloping mare
and she binds herself to the rider there
and there is no space but there’s left and right
and there is no time but there’s day and night
And he leans on her neck and he whispers low
Whither thou goest I will go
And they turn as one and they head for the plain
no need for the whip, no need for the rein
Now the clasp of this union, who fastens it tight
who snaps it asunder the very next night ?
Some say the rider, some say the mare
some say love’s like the smoke, beyond all repair
But my darling says, Leonard, just let it go by,
that old silhouette on the great Western sky
So I pick out a tune and they move right along
and they’re gone like the smoke, they’re gone like this song
Extracted from the book: Leonard Cohen, Poems And Songs, Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets
Hello dear readers, Happy Christmas and Merry New Year. I’ve just finished typing up a collection of my published poems, which I’ve done for Christmas gifts for my family and friends, there seems to have been 23 of them. It was a lot of poems to present here in one folder, but really not a great amount to have published, probably represents my laziness and aversion to print up my poems for submissions. Maybe after I recover from my illness and stroke, I will make more of an effort this new year, to submit poems for publication. Have a glorious festive season everyone, and please enjoy the music.
It’s that time of the year, a Christmas message from Ivor. And above a picture of my family’s get together, for Danny’s 70th birthday. Only us siblings these days, from the left, Tum(Lawrie’s wife), Ivor, Danny, Lawrie(Standing), Miffy, and Miffy’s John took the picture.
Time Travelers
Zap, a gigantic lightening bolt precedes a mystical power surge
Traversing the cobalt skies, like horizontally sleek outriggers
Vividly scoring chords, to hang our every word on
Like musical lines, writing out, our lost dreams and regrets
Sound-waves echoing, poles apart, going north, south, east and west
Conducting iridescent lights over our purple and orange sunset
Vibrating quasars, pulsating from deeply inside, outer-space
Focusing towards the huge magnetic Receiving Dish, signalling “An Arrival”
Recording a celestial traveler, singing with an angel’s voice
Resonating sweetly, like Handel’s, Messiah Hallelujah Chorus
Translated into our universal language of symphonic sound
Digitally televised for the world’s population to simultaneously view
The Super-Sonic Cosmic message to be heard loud and clear
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 