Head Cold Haikus

       watercolor_17_by_SadMonkeyDesign_res

It has been a very long time since I attempted to write a Haiku, but here are three that came to me in that wakeful time before sleep and dreams care to descend whilst struggling to shake off my summer cold.

Go easy on their rough nature:

i.

The sunshine spirals

roly polys and chammo

tea to drink, for me.

 

ii.

A watercoloured

harbour and rainbow shaped clouds

settle on my crown. 

 

iii.

Thump thump thump thump thump

Glug water, swallow the pills

Soothe iced tiger on. 

 

© LE Purse

21st July 2014


Silence, please

This is a poem I penned a while back and feels appropriate to share now amidst the radio silence on Gaza.

A bottle of words
corked up,
stopper firmly in place
fighting against
each letter, each syllable
from escaping
for fear of their actions.

The sun
shines
through the green
scattering
across
the
table
in a spiral
reaching all corners of the room.

© LE Purse

2014


Childhood Make Believe

ImageI sometimes miss the power of belief that comes only so naturally to children. Not only the belief in the magical world, but also the belief in the world we live in and in ourselves. I lacked a serious amount of self belief today in a situation that may well have cost me a position that could change my life.

This lack of self belief made me yearn for those days when nothing was impossible and reflect upon how the world of magic and belief is often reserved, in the adult world, for artists alone; how fortunate then that I count myself as being one. 

Hope you enjoy this alternative bit tid bit:

Make Believe

Fairy wings stick to my cheek and the sandman’s shiny gold dust

is smeared across my head for all to see

whilst a tiny rotting baby tooth is still tucked under my pillow.

Rudolph’s carrot is sliced and diced whilst Santa’s minced pies star in their own ecosystem of days gone by. 

8 fingers crossed 

1 magpie saluted;

no butter nor crush for you with all those petals depleted. 

© LE Purse

18th June 2014

 

 

 


Yesterday, My Leaves Fell

Firey leaves in South Korea.

Firey leaves in South Korea.

This new offering was inspired by the prompt over at Poetry Jaam of Lost and Found. Remember to check out the others’ inspired prose:

Yesterday, My Leaves Fell

Yesterday, my leaves fell;

Around my boughs lay the leaves I nurtured from buds.

Their raw green scraped-under-nail shoots pained me in the Spring.

A thousand tiny pin pricks surfaced,

every day a new raw pain as each emerging embryo formed;

Scars left behind to determine age.

 

Yesterday, my leaves fell;

My branches stand naked among the icy winds.

Rain drops dance along the delicate stumps where flowers once flourished

and petals twisted out from the cocoons that concealed their delicate beauty.

 

Yesterday, my leaves fell;

one by one they weaned themselves from my breast.

Their stalks becoming loose as they prepared for their descent,

no sense of what their flight might entail.

 

Yesterday, my leaves fell;

Around my boughs lay a carpet of colour.

The flood carried each one away like the ark

each one washed away full of every word spoken, every hand held, and every smile shared.

 

Yesterday, my leaves fell.

 

© LE Purse

16th June 2014

 

 


Recorded Sweet Somethings

tape recorder

This was inspired by Magpie Tales post and photo (above).

Something short but hopefully sweet:

Recorded Sweet Somethings

Te-ac-a

Te-ac-a

Ker-cher

Ker-cher

Round and round we go.

 

The silky tape wraps it’s tendrils around the wheel,

Moving in unison their rhythms collide.

Soft translucent touches send shivers across the dials,

as the tape awaits the melodic notes

to be dripped onto her like honey from up high.

 

© LE Purse

10th June 2014


To be humbled

Image

I was given a gift yesterday for doing a job I had been paid for.

Here’s the low down:

I stood in awe as she passed me over the huge present bag.

Thank you. This is for you to say thank you for everything”.

“Really, there’s no need…I was just…”

“No. Thank you for you know…” as she motioned behind her towards her 16 year old son. 

I stumbled out of their house in utter shock. I knew why I had been given that gift, not because I had just been helping her son but because this woman was kind, thoughtful, and appreciated my efforts. She wanted me to know that she knew I had struggled at times, that even if her son didn’t pass, that she appreciated I’d tried to give him some kind of focus and a better opportunity to take responsibility for his future. 

I felt tearful walking down that hill away from their house. This woman is a single mother living in London and working countless hours during the week to support her son and she went out of her way to buy a completely unnecessary gift.

It wasn’t until I spoke to my mum that I realised why; I was humbled by the gesture of how much I had touched this lovely woman’s life. And now, I guess, how much they both touched mine and shaped the last 5 months of my life. 

Something a little different for tonight:

Reluctant Student

Your reluctant

ripping apart of the conflict poetry

of Wilfred Owen and E.E.Cummings

led me to power points and staged readings

of the epic language penned over centuries.

You would rather wander into the world according to you,

where basketball doesn’t give you cramp

and English isn’t needed to be passed in order for you to analyse newspaper clippings and scrutinize audience appeal. 

The door squeaks open

and with it brings a bustle of fabric, hardly heard feet, and the lingering smells of a weekend feast.

Arabic lined walls

and an air of determination

linger to encourage me to encourage you

to access that creative, day dream-ful mind of yours.

Tap into the precious amber sap

fill your pen with it’s ink and write write write. 

© LE Purse 

3rd June 2014


Wandering Love

Image

A pansy sat in a railing’s flower box. 

This weekend has been one of the lovliest I can remember. Yesterday was spent with both Matt’s family and my own and we enjoyed every moment and today was spent wandering around the City of London, Westminster, and Lambeth.

The City was empty because no one works there over the weekend (it is the business hub of our city) and it is the most wonderfully peaceful urban area of London I have been to – little alleyways full of historic buildings lined up next to the High Court, Old Bailey, and some of London’s most glistening modern architecture make for a wonderful afternoon of wanderings. 

Anyway, this poem is all about doing something you forgot you loved:

The Wonder of Wander

Look up! – my eyes screamed.

to see the bridges of London not presented to the tourists.

Look up!

to see the busts of Victoria looking down.

Look up!

to see the oval windows gazing across St James’ Square.

Look up!

to see the future economy sharing Sunday ale.

Look up!

to see the ghosts of priests in hiding. 

Look up!

to see the beauty painted by urban nature.

Look up!

to see the diversity of colours so unevenly spread. 

Look up!

to see that chatter so adored.

Look up!

to see the wonder of wander. 

 

© LE Purse

1st June 2014

 


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