Losing You (Englyn)

 

Fragile is the egg that comes too soon, for

Sure the life-stemming bloom

Will flood that fruitless moon –

Silent now the lullaby’s tune…

feather

So, today I tried to write in a Welsh poetry form called an Englyn, this is very complicated and I cannot stick to all the rules as I think I would have to learn the Welsh language to have a proper go at the cynghanydd elements (basically where repeated patterns of consonants form another pattern and rhythm with each line…) instead mine is very basic but I did enjoy having a go.

Thanks to Libby Leaper for introducing me to this form on her blog: By The Wobbly Dum Dum Tree,  https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/191782

 

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Ode to a Toad

I saw you there
And stopped to exchange
Just a word or two.
You didn’t reply
But then I didn’t
Really expect you to,
So I passed on
And left you to your
Silent reverie.

Today you were
Still there – surrounded
By potentially
Tasty morsels but
You took no notice…
And you looked thinner…
I picked you up,
Moved you to somewhere
Where you could
Rest in peace.
croaked frog

‘Til the end of time (Ghazal)

The essence of waiting is to quietly be
Patient, not distract, just quietly be.

Be still as the dawn and open to change,
To have courage to act on what will be.

And what if that time should still its face?
Future, no longer fact, can cease to be.

The sands will run out and the tide will turn
To make no pact – all will simply not be.

I am Helen, yet not, and one day hence
A final redact, then all I will be…

Six words for Sunday – Limbo

Ever feel you are just waiting…?

Enchantment

My feet sink into the freshly-mown springy softness of the grass that skirts the meadow and leads to the wood. I am transported to a magical world; where dragonflies appear as threads hovering above your toes and v-backed lizards lie dozing in dark spaces. Here tiny caterpillars take refuge under the miniscule white flowers of cow parsley umbrellas, while the smallest acorns imaginable start to grow before your eyes on the knobbly oak twigs that hang over the track. Hopefully, we pick a few galls, intending to make my own ink; only to discover that a rich brown hue only comes from the later growths. I leave them in my pocket – if only to take a piece of the enchantment home with me.
In this wondrous place we are transported to another realm where cuckoos do not spit, yet frog-hoppers do, and baby grasshoppers note our passage. Deep crevasses lie underfoot and we take care, joking that if one slips we will have to use Rapunzel’s hair to rescue the other.
As I leave, the damsel in question sits combing through her endless tresses with her fingers. I almost offer to show her where the teasels grow but am loath to disturb such reverie, she seems to be so wistfully drinking in the scene – sketchpad at the ready to record the confined perspective of her gaze.

Family planning

Sometimes you think that the future is all mapped out. How quickly this can change.
The start of a new life (often something taken for granted – or even thought of as an inconvenience to be delayed until the appropriate time) is suddenly in question. The next generation now has a transparency to it. The image has become less clear, as if the sun of today dazzles and distorts the eye; providing a shimmering, illusory quality. Like a mirage.
Tomorrow an ultrasound may make the picture a little clearer…and that in itself may paint the future in a different hue.

Tick tock

She has taken her last exam and finished her last day at school, her prom is tomorrow and she has a nice weekend job that will hopefully extend a bit for the weeks of the holidays. She wants to go to college and then university, she has plans…she thinks her life is mapped out.
How quick these days, these years go.
I want to slow them down I want to make them last because I am scared that soon there will be too few left…then none…and the opportunities for talking, for being, with loved ones will have gone.

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