A sea breeze with fish n chips, what more could one ask for

my bed is calling me, good night, good morning and hope you have a good afternoon

Indeed Sandy and the unexpected scent of fish and chips on a sea breeze is always marvellous. John Betjeman wrote some brilliant seaside poems, many set in Cornwall. I'd love to post his Margate ode but the thread rules forbid me from doing so.

Goodnight Sandy, sweet dreams

Love

Come love, reveal your world, show me your dreams
Where the lost boy finds the gates
Of a Gothic castle lit by pale moonbeams
And a maiden, patient, waits.

Come, open your doors love, show me your wares;
Fine sapphires and other jewels
Like amethyst and diamonds to heal cares,
Allow me to know your halls.

I would walk them, absorbing treasure
Unimagined by kings;
Walls hung with paintings that speak
Of landscapes forgotten and unique,
Books telling of sirens chanting sea-spells,
Beaches graced with seashells.

Then love, lead me to the chamber where she lies bared
And has endured the lonely hours;
An oak-timbered room with satin sheets prepared
And the night ahead, ours.


©

Another oldie from The Designer with slight changes, what the hell

I've got a sherbert on the go again now, they're so tasty This post was sent at 4:47, not 3:47 as it says.

What a Herbert!, now don't be hasty,
to many sherberts can make you pasty.

xx

I've never considered myself as a Herbert with pencil in hand, but I thought your poem was hilarious Flower Thanks for sending it in

G'day poets. You're very quiet this weekend. Yes Musty those two lines are better.

Ta Biz There are several slight improvements in The Designer that are needed. Eventually there'll probably be another edition with those included. I'm gearing up for a marathon writing session tonight - afterwards the Avebury suite should be nearly finished bar a couple of poems

It has been quiet Yesterday I was in Eastbourne and away from the computer. It's always nice there and I communed with the sea for a while

Moonsong

This satellite of Earth, this orb we know
Brings reassurance with its high position,
Above and faraway, always aglow,
Conducting the eternal repetition
Of tides; with such a lunar wealth on show
To write of it becomes a poet’s mission.

The dead Sea of Tranquility reminds
Us nothing lives here and from the equator
Across an empty landscape different kinds
Of scars reveal the impact of each crater,
That long embattled past forever binds
The silent injured plains and makes them greater.

O venerated sister of sun,
Beyond our pious creeds and petty sinning,
When we are dust and all is said and done
You’ll stay as you were back in the beginning;
The luminous exotic silver one,
Amid infinity, a goddess spinning.


©

I've written so many poems that even recent ones I can forget about I was reminded of Moonsong by an FM in America who's just commented on it. Luckily the poem's had good feedback there

The early morning

The early morning birdsong
was singing a cheery tune
The early morning postman
was going to and fro
The early morning milkman
was clinking his silvertops
The early morning sun
was still fast asleep.

I got great images from this Sandy The sun being asleep made it one of those quiet grey dawns. I love that time of day and I always take a stroll to the local shop just after six to buy a paper. The peace is gorgeous, nothing but birdsong Sadly we have no milkman in the area now - your silvertops reference made me a bit nostalgic

There has been quite a bit of chattering birdsong recently and I thought I would write a little poem about it. Seeing a milkman nowadays is a very rare sight so I would like to think the poem is more in the past than in the present. The whistling milkman singing along with the birds in the trees.


Are you enjoying the sunshine today Musty?

I am lucky enough to still have my milk delivered Sandy, but it was the early morning postman who made me nostalgic - we only very rarely see one before noon, and usually much later.

A postman does a lot of sorting but how comes he doesn't always deliver to the right place.

Attitude?

Hasn't it been a blissful afternoon?

Oh yes, it's lovely and summery now Sandy I could never wear one of those stethoscope thingies many stick in their ears in these sad technical times. As much as I love music, when I'm out on a nice sunny day all I need for a soundtrack is birdsong


They even took the notice with delivery and collection times off of our nearest postbox Biz Then a car completely trashed it and the new one has a notice on it again

The postman puts someone elses letters in my letterbox and I have to repost it back in the postbox unless it's somewhere not far then I deliver it myself

yes, a lovely day. I've been sitting by my fan, cool air blowing

If I was to use those type of headphones, they tend to fall out I use proper headphones if I'm listening to music.

I have birdies singing at the moment.

Good! They got the message.


I once hung a notice from my letterbox "Postman please ring." He did, and I politely pointed out his mistake and gave him the errant envelope back. It's not my job it's his. I didn't ask him to do my work for me. Why should we keep on encouraging them to be slapdash. If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well..............so there.

By the way, it had happened before, but it hasn't happened since.

Birdies rock Sandy


Nice one Biz Apparently if it wasn't for all that junk mail we get, the post office would be out of business. The advertising revenue is what's keeping a failing service alive. Computers seem to destroy lots of good things.

I now have four new poems in the works. Normally they'd have been finished and posted, but the Avebury suite is taking up most of my writing time. I think it'll be worth the effort though

We don't doubt it. We'll all be Avebury experts by the time you've finished.

Somehow it remains an obscurity to most people - it's so vast and so much has been lost that few realise we owned potentially the eighth wonder of the world