With an ounce of their love potion

Our father was a quiet man
Simple words well spoken
Made it seem so easy
In a loving caring way.

A pipe as his companion
Satisfied, contented
Practiced peaceful mindfulness
Before it was invented.

His principles imprinted
As are those of our mother
A legacy of love remains
In the eyes of one another.

We’re lucky to have met them
Reared with such devotion
I hope we have inherited
An ounce of their love potion.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

Candlelight

We all sat down by candlelight
it was a cold December’s eve
embers burning brightly
into a starlit night.

Holly plucked from hedgerows
Adorning rafters high
a settle bed with an overcoat
where expectant children lie.

Shadows stretching eerily
On a chalk stone wall flicker
Stories by a seanachaí
Recounting fairy tales.

A stranger plays a fiddle
An old familiar tune
Porter, poitín, whiskey
Father played the spoons.

Thus it was in bygone days
A stable door half open
passers by were welcome
To rest their weary bones.

Now locks are all aplenty
Blinds tightly closed
A neighbourhood in hiding
For fear of being exposed.

[ seanachaí – an Irish storyteller ]

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

Mindfulness at no expense

Trees trembling, autumn breeze
Calmly puts my mind at ease
Simplicity softens, complexity melts
Swiftly carried somewhere else.

To a land of vibrant shades
Winding waters, words invade
Pen to paper promptly placed
imagination firmly laced.

Such is nature’s excellence
Mindfulness at no expense
Create a magic hideaway
Worries of the world allay.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

Methinks it’s not for me

My body waxed then it waned
I wish it was the latter
But lockdown has enlarged my girth
Now I’m just a little fatter.

There was a time when I was slim
It was not that long ago
But life it took a different turn
I have no place to go.

My mind became a prisoner
Of a virus on parade
That visit to the Algarve
Cancelled all the plans I made.

To inject a little happiness
Into my tiresome days
I bought myself a jigsaw
My spirit to upraise.

Merry it did not make me
In fact I got frustrated
Why had I purchased something
That was so complicated.

stretch my legs off of the couch
That creaking aching feeling
I make it to a mirror
A vision unappealing.

Get up, get out, get moving
Before I vegetate
Or maybe do some yoga
To straighten up my gait.

In my mind I tried it
Veggie shakes and herbal tea
I’ll wait until tomorrow
Methinks it’s not for me.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )◦

Raindrops glisten

Drenched by an overnight storm
Spring buds bent into clay
Await the warmth of morning sun
Begin a brand new day.

Look closely-see raindrops glisten
Hear croaking-birdsong-listen
A glimpse of light through sylvan trees
Leaves ripple on a waking breeze.

Golden stripes of daylight beam
Upon nature’s glory gleam
A fog has lifted inhale the air
Approach the day without a care.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

It’s never too late

It’s never too late for a birthday
It’s only when that church bell tolls
Your friends all turn out, candle’s blown out
It’s then you’ll start mixing with souls.
When those pearly gates open
And after the Big man has spoken
You’ll find that life can be so fickle
When your present’s a harp or a sickle.
You don’t have to face that dilemma
If you’re neighbourly, loving and true
There’s no one can give you the answer
In the end it will be all up to you.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

In the landmine of life.

I knew him by his crouching frame
Those broad shoulders once erect
Now bowed in reverence
To life’s laboured game.

His lungs now black as anthracite
Wheezing coughing with all his might
Knuckles gnarled – arthritic pain
Years of darkness – show no gain.

From a minor he did dwell
In that corridor of hell
Now it’s clear for all to see
The embers of life’s tragedy.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 )
( @wordverse.me )

Linger

Propping up dry stone walls
Waiting ‘till the church bell calls
Pinstripe pressed – shiny shoes
Ladies in mantillas muse.

Sunday palms – Somber psalms
Wicker basket – collecting alms
long sermon – heaved sighs
Tired hungry – baby cries.

In a churchyard – congregate
Discussing problems of the state
Linger for a little while
Speak of all things mercantile.

Creamy pints lined up waiting
Singing, smiling, articulating
Time for just another one
Before the spuds are done.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

Before the ecosystem twisted

I watched it as it trundled past
Through a silent station
My mind settled – it’s rocking motion
Taking me to another world
Where people populated streets
Shoppers shopped for shiny shoes
Christmas queues made the news
Commuters crammed in traffic jams
Securing their turkey hams
Children gazed – windows grande
Choirs sang of a holy land
Parcels, presents smiling faces
Kissing cheeks-warm embraces
By a beach on balmy days
An audience in theatres – plays
Normality as it once existed
Before the ecosystem twisted.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @wordverse.me )

Sonnet 1 For Mother’s Day

Always a smile
Eyes open embrace;
Elegance, style,
Patience, humour, grace;
So welcoming, warm,
Kindness abloom;
A port in a storm,
Lights love in a room;
A door always open,
To one and all;
Advice sometimes unspoken,
A space in a squall;
We remember her well,
Not goodbye but farewell.

Jpoet7 ( #doolan317 ) ( @worddverse.me )