Spring. A Poem

Dandelions, like gold, cover the meadows.
Newborn lambs frolic in fields.
New leaves on the trees are casting their shadows
And winter’s cold grip quickly yields.

At the edges of woodland the primroses glow
And cowslips their scent fills the air.
Anemones dance when the breezes do blow
And birds sing with never a care.

Then bluebells and campions come into bloom
Their colour the blue of the sea.
The cuckoo, that herald of spring, will come soon
His call echoing over the lea.

The song of the blackbird is like molten gold.
His notes are so pure and so clear.
Hearing him seems to banish the cold
And brings joy to all those who hear.

Robin is nesting, and other birds too,
The hedgehog is active once more.
The young of the deer and the badger and shrew
Play their games as in old days of yore.

The sun climbs higher and higher each day
Giving more of his heat and his light.
It sparkles like stars fallen into the bay.
All smile at the beautiful sight.

Hope and excitement come with each spring morn.
What blessings will come with this day?
New starts can begin once again with each dawn
And send us all hopeful away.

 

I hope you like  this spring poem. Please tell me what you think in the comments.

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Bedwyr’s Song #writephoto

A beautiful poem.

via Bedwyr’s Song #writephoto

Blackbird, A Poem

 

 
The Blackbird

Blackbird, searching the lawn for worms,
Your brood for to feed.
You work so hard from dawn ’till dusk
To satisfy their need.

Your glossy feathers shine so black,
Your beak is made of gold.
The brightness of your eye so clear,
Is a wonder to behold.

But over all, what we all love,
Your song so pure and clear.
The notes that tumble from your throat
Bring joy to all who hear.

They rise above, towards the sky,
And angels when they hear
Know that they have met their match
In your notes so pure and clear.

Art thou a bird or spirit free
Whose throat such notes give out?
No living creature surely makes
Such wondrous sounds, I doubt.

So are you sent from heaven above
That we on Earth might know
Something of that wondrous place
Where we’re destined to go?

So, bird, keep singing out your song
At dawn, at noon and dusk
And make us feel that all that’s wrong
Will turn to all that’s just.

 

We Will Remember Them

I posted this poem once before, but have decided to post it again as on Sunday it’s 100 years since the Armistice . I hope you enjoy it.

 

WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

I’ll never truly understand
How World War I began.
The death of Archduke Ferdinand
Started the deaths of many more,
The young, the old, the rich, the poor.
All died with guns in hand.

My Grandad went with Uncle Jim
And Our Poor Willie, too.
They sent them off, singing a hymn.
Grandad went to Gallipoli,
Uncle Jim left his love, Polly.
Gas in trenches did kill him.

I cannot see, in my mind’s eye
Grandad with gun in hand.
A peaceful man, sent out to die.
He fought for us, for you and me
So we can live and so that we
Safely in our beds may lie.

Grandad came home, and Willie too,
But millions more did not.
Their duty they all had to do.
They died in fear, in noise, in blood.
Everything was caked in mud.
Yet in those fields the poppies grew.

The War to end all wars, they said,
So terrible were the deaths.
The youth of Europe all lay dead.
Yet 21 short years to come
Another war. Once more a gun
In young men’s hands brought death.

One hundred years have passed since then.
What have we learned? Not much!
Too many men are killing men.
Wars still abound around the world.
Bombs and missiles still are hurled
At those who disagree with them.

In The Haunted House. A poem for Hallowe’en

I wrote this poem for a Hallowe’en poetry contest. Wish me luck.

 

The wind it blows cold
Like ice down my back.
I try to be bold,
But courage I lack.
In the haunted house.

It seemed such a lark
When we set off tonight.
But now it’s gone dark
And we shiver with fright
In the haunted house.

Jane said. ‘We’ll have fun
On Hallowe’en night.’
But when solw footsteps come
She screams out in fright
In the haunted house.

‘Let’s take candles, said Pete.
More authentic for light.
And something to eat
If we’re staying all night
In the haunted house.’

Jack thinks it’s a game
Till the candles blow out.
Not one single flame.
He gave a loud shout
In the haunted house.

The temperature sinks.
‘That means ghosts are here,’
Said Pete, who still thinks
There’s nothing to fear
In the haunted house.

The door starts to creak.
It opens so slow.
Our knees feel so weak.
I wish we could go
From the haunted house.

But nothing is there
As we huddle in fear.
Not one of us dare
To get up and peer
In the haunted house.

All night there are groans.
We hear footsteps, we swear,
And the rattle of bones.
Something is there
In the haunted house.

We laugh at our fear
As we make our way home.
In daylight it’s clear
No spirits do roam
In the haunted house.

The noises we heard?
Just the sounds of a house
Cooling down, and a bird.
Not one single ghost
In the haunted house.

 

I hope you enjoyed this poem as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a comment in the comments section. I love to hear from you.

Elven Evening Hymn from The Wolf Pack

During their travels to find Sauvern’s Sword, the group calling themselves The Wolf Pack found themselves in the homeland of the Elves. Here they heard the beautiful sunset hymn the Elves sang each evening.

Here is that hymn, with a translation from the Elvish for those of you who are not proficient in that language.

 

 

‘Ah equillin ssishinisi
Qua vinillaquishio quibbrous
Ahoni na shar handollesno
As nas brollenores.

Ah equilin bellamana
Qua ssishinisi llanarones
As wma ronalliores
Shi nos Grillon prones.

Ah equilin dama Grillon
Pro llamella shilonores
As nos rellemorres
Drapo weyishores.
Yam shi Grillon yssilores
Grazlin everr nos pronores
Wama vinsho prolle-emo
Lli sha rallemorres.’
Translation

“Oh star of the evening
Shining brightly
You give us hope
In the deepening night.

Oh beauteous star
Who heralds the evening
You tell us all
That Grillon guards us

Oh Grillon’s star
As you sink westwards
Return again
To guard the dawn.

Ensure that Grillon
Through darkness keep us
Safe from all evil
Until the morn.”’

Please feel free to leave a comment. I love hearing from you.

Blog Tour by Yecheilyah Ysrayl, a poet.

I am Soul Virtual Blog Tour – Day Two

I would like to welcome Yecheilyah to my blog today. She is a poet, and is doing a virtual blog tour. Today is the second day of the tour. You can find out more about her by visiting the other blogs she is appearing on. The dates and addresses are at the end of this post.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018 @ 1:00p EST

Bio.

Yecheilyah (e-SEE-li-yah, affectionately nicknamed EC) is an Author, Blogger, and Poet and lives in Marietta, GA with her wonderful husband. She has been writing poetry since she was twelve years old and joined the UMOJA Poetry Society in High School where she learned to perfect her craft. In 2010, at 23 years-old, Yecheilyah published her first collection of poetry and in 2014, founded Literary Korner Publishing and The PBS blog where she enjoys helping other authors through her blog interviews and book reviews. The PBS Blog has been named among Reedsy’s Best Book Review blogs of 2017 and 2018 and has helped many authors in their writing journey. I am Soul is her fourth collection of poetry.

THOSE WHO LOVE

It’s their presence alone
that lifts the floor
commanding the clouds to unclench their fist.
Love wraps its garment around
their bodies
like insane prisoners to compassion,
confined and restricted
to the affection that binds them.
Stitched and knitted
like a fresh garment,
like fresh skin
to the beautiful body of genuine,
Call them
the mentally insane
‘cause they’ve got to be crazy
to be binding themselves
like this.

 

 

Fun Facts about Yecheilyah:
She loves to laugh, and her favorite comedy TV show is Blackish
She is originally from Chicago, IL
She’s been married to her husband 8 years, together for 11 years
She believes eggs makes everything better
She is a twin
She is addicted to reading and new notebooks
Her favorite desert is ice cream
I am Soul is now available on Amazon, iTunes, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, and Scribd.

Click Here to choose your retailer.

Greenbriar Mall
The Medu Bookstore
2841 Greenbriar Pkwy SW
Atlanta, GA 30331
Author Website: http://www.yecheilyahysrayl.com/
Blog: https://thepbsblog.com
Amazon Author Central: http://www.amazon.com/Yecheilyah-Ysrayl/e/B00ML6OHFA/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/literarykornerpublishing
Instagram: http://www.instagram.com/yecheilyah/
Twitter: twitter.com/ahouseofpoetry
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/channel/UCdquShfqCN6lIX8IDK9MnSg

 

A Roman Legion A Poem

Some time ago I posted a poem based on a challenge. Take the seventh book on your bookshelf, find the seventh page, count down to the seventh line and write a seven line poem. In writing that poem, I forgot that it was suuposed to be seven lines. I wrote several verses. Then, realising my mistake, I wrote another that is acthally seven lines long. I posted the longer one some time ago, but I think I should give the ‘correct’ one an airing.

Let me know what you think. The line was the first line of this poem.

A Roman Legion also had other skills:
Engineers, builders, tailors too.
They built the roads so straight and true.
They built a wall across the hills,
Built bridges over foaming rills.
They made their clothes and built a fort
And fought the foe without a thought.

It wasn’t an easy challenge. Perhaps you’d like to have a go. I’d be interested to see your results.

A Plea for Peace. A poem,

I have been very concerned by, and, yes, afraid, of the war of words between Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump. They both seem to be wanting a fight. This I can’t understand as it would be a war that cannot be won, and could be the end of humanity. Certainly it would be the end of society as we know it.

It would not end with the cessation of attacks. Such a war would leave a legacy of radiation and sickness for those left behind, and without the resources of medicine, millions more, who survived the blast, would die horribly. Think of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Those bombs are as children’s toys compared with what is available to the nuclear powers today’

Then there’s the ‘Nuclear Winter’ that would follow. Without the sun, plants would fail and there would be massive starvation. How can world leaders even consider such a dire possibility?

In the 1960s, people were afraid that a nuclear war was a very real possibility. After all, in 1960,it had only been 15 years, since the USA dropped a hydrogen bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was also the era of the ‘cold war’, and everyone was afraid of Russia, or rather the USSR as it was then, a vast empire ruled by Russia. It was in this climate I wrote the following poem.
It is the only poem that exists from that time. It is also the only poem of mine ever to have been published before as a poem and not as part of a novel. It was published in the student magazine of UMIST, in Manchester.

A Plea for Peace

Now we have created something
That threatens to destroy.
One error, one mistake
And what is left for us
But Death.

I see the ruins of a country
That once was powerful.
Now it is nothing but
Ruins, dust, decay
And Death.

I hear the cries of suffering people
Many people, old and young
They cry in agony to God
Please give us peace
Through Death.

But

The only true peace we can have on Earth
Is through remembrance of our Saviour’s birth.

 

If you liked this poem, and have an opinion on the views it expresses, please add a comment in the comments section.

Samhain. A Poem

Samhain is the pagan pre-curser to what we now call Hallowe’en. It was thought that on the nights of the equinox the veil separating the world of the dead from our own world thinned, and the dead could come through.

Not all the dead were consindered scary, though. The people thought that their recent dead visited them, and they put out food, or set an extra place at the table to accommodate them. These dead came to see their loved ones were going on alright.

Evil spirits, though, could come through, too, and so bonfires were lit to keep them at bay. The home fires were put out, too, to be relit the following day from the bonfires.

Pope Gregory decided that some of the pagan dates should be incorporated into the Christian calendar as psople were used to celebrating on those days. Samhain was one of these. The Pope designated it to be All Saint’s Day, hence the night before became All Hallow’s Eve. (Hallows being another word for ‘holy’ or ‘saint’.)

Pope Gregory also fixed the date of Christmas to co-incide with the pagan festival of Yule, and turned some of the pagan gods into saints. He also used pagan worshiping sites to build Christian churches, on the same principal. People were used to going there to worship.

Here is a poem I wrote for Samhain. I hope you like it.

SAMHAIN

Don’t go near the graveyard, darling,
Samain is tonight.
Don’t go near the graveyard, darling,
The dead will walk this night.

Keep your candle burning, darling,
Keep it glowing bright.
Keep your candle burning, darling,
Be sure it gives you light.

The bonfires have been lit, darling,
To fill the dark with light.
The bonfires have been lit, darling,
Their flames reach such a height.

Put your home fires out, darling.
Be sure to do it right.
Put your home fires out, darling.
From bonfires we’ll relight.

Put food by the door, darling.
Leave it in plain sight.
Put food by the door, darling.
For our own to have a bite.

Do not be afraid, darling,
They see that we’re alright.
Do not be afraid, darling,
No harm from them tonight.

But evil spirits come, darling.
We must put them to flight.
But evil spirits come, darling;
Them we must try to fight.

Go and watch the bonfires, darling.
Stand in their bright light.
Go and watch the bonfires, darling,
They keep us safe this night.

I hope you enjoyed my poem. Please leave a comment.