Nature’s private time

Poetry day Ireland : theme. There will be time.

There will be time enough to visit

beaches, forests, mountains climb

perhaps notice all the benefits

of nature’s private time.

soul searching in your solitude

exercising that grey matter

speaking on the internet

some virtual pitter patter.

Pristinely painted premises

polished glasses, empty wine

weight watchers on the sideline

many months of quarantine.

In a world of many changes

remembering lessons learned

be faithful to your conscience

showing others more concern.

JPOET7 ( )


A blackbird with her golden beak

into the earth a worm did seek

flying back onto her nest

a morsel to her young digest.

A brood of hungry chicks to feed

fighting for their prey

little beaks wide open

to live another day.

For all the joys of nature

It’s simple, sweetest sound blackbirds in the morning

birdsong all around.

JPOET7 ( )

Our lives together interweave:

Living in extraordinary times

shopping has become a crime

holding hands is frowned upon

kissing well now that’s just not on.

Children playing with their parents

enjoying time from school

recently they would have thought

that this was not so cool.

Busy working now from home

no more just a factory gnome

appreciating time well spent

relationships to reinvent.

In this era of cocooning

Instead of cursing or bemoaning

be content, do not grieve

our lives together interweave.

JPOET7 ( )

Someone is listening

Create a dance unto the world

feel that energy unfurled

release those pent up fears

spinning pirouettes, shedding tears.

Stage a drama of your life

love songs, adventures, strife

a musical extravaganza

for an audience of one.

Maybe someone else is listening

echoes beating on the walls

to catch you when you’re falling

bringing silence to those calls.

JPOET7 ( )

The Funeral

A bell tolled

Winter wind whipped icy cold

muffled voices whispered

people shuffled past.

Masked mourners mingled

Priests prayed petition prayers

pinstripe suits precisely pressed

Hymns hung hopelessly in the air.

Warm words whispered consolation

Lost in mental consternation

memories momentarily shared

cold comfort in a country churchyard.

JPOET7 ( )