Like most British people, my life is very much influenced by our seasons and the accompanying unpredictable great British weather, which invariably prompts me to wax lyrical. Whatever the season, it is the write time for me!
Leaf-fall:
vibrant, vivid,
flaming, falling, rustling, dying,
multi-coloured woven carpet:
Autumn.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives descriing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing”words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
This Friday we have had some snow,
it absolutely tipped it down,
it covered up the entire town
and there was nowhere we could go.
They had to bring out the snow plough
to clear the roads where it had blown,
it just kept driving up and down,
but still the roads were full of snow.
The kids all had a day off though.
At least my neighbours didn’t frown,
when hit by snowballs kids had thrown,
or slithered on the ice below
where they trampled their virgin snow!
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Rondel Poem
1. Poem consists of 13 lines in 3 stanzas
2. Rhyme scheme: ABba/abBA/abbaA (uppercase letters are refrains)
3. Usually 8 syllables per line
Okay, it’s New Year’s Day and it’s time for some resolutions,
but I’ve given up making them, I just need some solutions.
I have absolutely no more room in my house for more “stuff”,
and I’ve tried to downsize, but obviously not hard enough.
So this year, I’ll throw away something every single day,
never mind how much I had to pay, or how I’d like it to stay.
As I didn’t use it, play it, wear it or eat it last year,
if I threw it away tomorrow, I should not shed a tear.
A watery winter sun warmed the westward woods
but no birdsong burst from the bare branched birches.
Hawthorn hedges were hidden in the haze,
yet a feathered fiend had fixed his gaze.
Stiff, silent trees were standing stark;
wide eyes were watching, waiting.
Suddenly from his nest,
gracefully gliding
over frosty fields,
came the barn owl
seeking his
supper
feast.
Then
with a
sudden swoop,
and still no sound
he dived to the ground,
then soared high again,
caught in his claws his catch.
Heading back from whence he came,
silently sweeping through the sky,
flew with his famished family’s feast.
Yet still no whisper from the waiting woods,
the sun sank sadly ‘neath the skies in the west.
Silence, save for sounds of scrunching from the owl ‘s nest.
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Inspired by photographing my friend’s watercolour painting from a picture in the RSPB magazine
This year has been damp and a good year for fungus,
some are small and pretty and some are humongous,
some crowd in circles around the base of our trees
and some decorate their trunks right up to their knees.
Some look quite cute, almost with friendly faces,
some dark and threatening, crowd in other places,
some look like phallic symbols, some like fairies’ hats,
some look like they should live with Dracular and bats.
Toadstools grow in circles but I have looked to see,
and there’s no sign that I can find of a fairy.
Mushrooms should be good this year, but I’m scared to try
any that I find in woods as I’m passing by.
We’ve been invaded this year with all sorts of spores,
they’re multiplying over the ground in their scores.
Ash trees have been struck with a fungus invasion,
spores from foreign woods have ruined England’s equation.
I feel like I’m living on another planet:
everywhere I go the grass is soggy and wet,
fungi cover the ground in woods everywhere
and I have to step all around them with great care.
I don’t want my dogs to catch a fungus disease,
just like the one that’s killing our native ash trees.
Ash tree die back report from the Telegraph
Light show:
awesome, noisy,
flashing, sparkling, crackling, banging,
vibrant Autumn garden display:
Fireworks.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives describing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing” words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
The clocks have gone back
and we’ve lost an hour at night.
We come home in the dark now
instead of the light.
The weather is grim,
it’s damp and it’s so dreary,
Continue reading
Green leaves turn to gold,
from crimson to russet brown,
until they gently fall.
Fright night:
wary, scary,
tricking, treating, chilling, thrilling,
ghosties, goulies, witches abound:
Samhain.
(Cinquain poem)
5 Lines – not rhyming
1st line – a noun, 2 syllables
2nd line – 2 adjectives describing the noun, 2 syllables each
3rd line – 3 “……ing” words describing noun, 2 syllables each
4th line – a 4 word phrase about the noun, 2 syllables each
5th line – another word for the noun, 2 syllables
“He’s not very smart,” I’ve heard them say
cos I’m dressed in rags, in an odd way,
but I’ve stood in this field ev’ry day.
Waving my arms in the summer breeze
I’ve stood in rain, til it’s made me sneeze
and I’ve nearly fallen to my knees.
August hols are here, and we’re hoping for some sun,
families have fled to foreign fields for some fun,
leaving us alone in our lovely Great Britain,
with half empty highways, and dull days in the rain.
Soon as they swanned off, the sun came out to play,
and it happened to get hotter here ev’ry day.
We hardly have rainfall ‘cept in a sudden storm,
during our heat wave, which we now know as the norm.
Dazzling dusty days spent in hot and humid heat,
as we walk our way to work down the stifling street.
Bodies barely breathe in our horrid hot office,
a faltering filtering fan just can’t suffice.
(a Tyburn Poem)
Lifting,
sifting,
drifting,
shifting.
Caressed by Sea’s lifting, sifting hands,
sleep the beaches’ drifting, shifting sands.
A Tyburn Poem = 6 rhyming lines of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. First four lines rhyme, last two lines rhyme and contain the first four lines in 5th through 8th syllables.
With apologies to Rupert Brooke
Just now the lilacs aren’t in bloom
all before his little room,
and from his flower beds I think
have gone the carnation, and the pink,
and in his borders well I know
poppies and pansies no longer blow.
Grantchester, oh Grantchester!
There should be peace and quiet there.
Rupert Brooke would have a fit
if he went back to visit it.
Continue reading
A family of long-tailed tits have come to visit me,
they’ve been here all day in and out the Eucalyptus tree.
They’re eating all the old nuts and fat balls that I’ve put out
I’ve not seen them here before, so I guess without a doubt
they like what I’ve provided more than the usual seeds
that all the birds sort through and drop down to grow into weeds!
Too much Rain!
(Trois-par-huit poem)
Now at last
the fear of drought has passed.
They can now cancel the hosepipe ban.
We can put away our brand new watering can,
and forget any idea of a summer tan.
It’s never going to stop, it’s plain,
each day we get again
too much rain!
Duncan and Dulcie Dunnock are a good pair
they’ve bred here for years in our bush over there.
They fly round and round our garden all day long
feeding their chicks who are making quite a song.
Spring flowers have faded away,
yellow’s gone ’til another day,
leaves on the trees are in full sway.
It must be May! It must be May!
Spring flowers,
days with much longer hours,
buds are sprouting on the bare-branched trees.
Butterflies emerging from the long winter freeze,
flutter around our gardens on the gentle breeze.
Spawn in the pond, frogs have been mating.
Birds all now sit and sing:
“Welcome Spring!”
On with my coat and walking shoes,
the dogs are ready to go,
but the sky has turned a dark shade of grey
and it looks like it might snow.
Here comes the rain –
and here I’m staying!
Off with my coat and settled down again
to wait for the shower to stop.
It’s now raining cats and dogs, and even hail
has caught us all on the hop.
Down comes the rain –
no walk yet, it’s plain.
Now the Winter snow has gone away,
the temperature is higher,
the daffodils raise their heads
and bulbs start sprouting up
ready to burst out
into flower
in time for
pretty
Spring.
A nonet poem has nine descending lines of 9 syllables, then 8,7,6,5,4,3,2 and finally 1. It doesn’t need to rhyme.
