Gold

What the rich are bored with
Every beggar craves,
Gold is much adored with
Countless greedy slaves.

Ships transporting Spanish
Armed conquistadors
Helped to make gold vanish
From the Aztec shores.

Popes who shame the sinner
Store it and worldwide
Each Olympic winner
Wears it with deep pride.

Alchemists succeeded
Moulding that which brings
Coins and trinkets needed
And love’s wedding rings.

Long the Dark Lord’s metal
Ruined Gollum’s peace,
Jason couldn’t settle
Till he found the fleece.

Sought from Thebes to Calais,
Wishes Midas made,
Sung by Spandau Ballet,
Master of all trade.

As for my own thinking,
This much can be told:
I’m a fan of sinking
Sunsets forged in gold.


©

Thanks Musty & for the earlier comment, was v. pleased you liked it, sorry I don't always acknowledge or comment myself when I pop in. Your view expressed well on Dali I share in a good tribute let me say right now. Cheers.

Nice one Frank

A Mother’s Zero Hour

At midnight in the nowhere land
Where life is in the zero hand
Time’s frozen drops for you to see
Lost halcyon days when time was free

In the quiet of the clatter
Stretch your mind and fuel the matter
Within the darkness of the light
Keep all your visions in plain sight

Reject the bottom when you fall
Make sure they listen when you call
Don’t let the ups become a down
Hold tight the smile beneath your frown

Don’t fix your heart upon your sleeve
Shed single tears but never grieve
Invest in memories, locked away
To dry you on that rainy day

Lock all your secrets with a key
Show only what they need to see
Don’t hold your words inside your head
Most words are usually best when said

Hear the music, feel the dancing
Test yourself on sweet romancing
Secure your lover in your heart
Release him when its time to part

Attend your buds and watch them thrive
Consume their love and swell with pride
Reveal to them the best of you
And set them on a path so true

Catch every smile and hold it near
Preserve it for a hundred years
Never show your face to sorrow
Or leave trails for it to follow

Turn away when life is dreary
Rest awhile when you are weary
Hide from the chilling winds at night
Wait for the sun to bring you light

Unravel life with skilled fingers
Breathe a sigh but never linger
Mark out a path through fields of gold
And follow it when you grow old

Don’t let the zero hour strike on
Until the tapestry is done
When no more threads are left to weave
Please wrap up warm before you leave

What a brilliant poem Seren! So many great verses and I really like the sense of urgency here as all the advice spills out. The lines I've quoted brought tears to my eyes, as they touched on aspects of my own Mum's life. I shall definitely read this one again later

madrigal

Come meet me on the island,
Although its joy has gone,
The autumn fires
And golden spires
Shall always linger on.

Refreshed in marble halls there
We’ll learn as music plays
Each different key
Speaks of the sea
And love’s forgotten ways.

At evening we'll watch sunset
Turn sky and shoreline red,
When final beams
Descend like dreams
Into God's crimson bed.


©

Good morning poets. Good to see you all.

Hi Biz

Hidden

Hidden here, locked away
Unbeknown to you and me
Lies the thing eyes cannot see,
Safe as houses, dark as night,
Undercover, out of sight.

Not a treasure chest or grave,
Not an echo in a well,
How do I explain or tell?
Answers keep their silent shield,
Lost for good, completely sealed.

Nothing ever passes by,
Car or footstep, owl or stoat,
None disturb what reigns remote,
Nor shall any human peer
At the secret hidden here.


©

I'm happy that you enjoyed it


Good morn...afternoon to you

Lost in Translation

Ever elusive and lost in translation
Conflict and war amid dark conversation
Angry dreams and images trapped in the head
Hold on to the words which can never be said

Shape shifting sounds filled with torturous meaning
Misunderstood voice with hate intervening
Universally vanished, the language you speak
Revolving the world for solutions to seek

Tongue twisting sounds which are cracked and distorted
Spun round and round while shed blood is contorted
Shattered apart with the echo of a gun
A father is silenced as words leave his son

Fragmented pleading and sobs which lay scattered
Impulsive cries that lay bloodstained and splattered
Corpses who spoke in the tongue of a nation
Slaughtered by words which were lost in translation

I found this gripping and dark but couldn't place the poem in the present or history. Maybe it wasn't written in that way though. Regardless, I thought the connection between language and conflict in the piece was fascinating

Colin's conker

Young Colin couldn’t conquer maths
But soared when playing conkers,
On target and devoid of gaffs,
You could say conkers bonkers.

One day beneath a chestnut tree
Stood Colin's hopeful figure,
He threw a stick dislodging three
Then noticed one was bigger.

His prized possession landed near,
Less conker, more a rocket,
He picked up that amazing sphere
And placed it in his pocket.

At home he felt excitement swell,
The nut was hard as copper,
In vinegar he soaked it well,
Enchanted by his whopper.

He drilled a hole, inserting string
Into the ball alright,
Then practised on his whack and swing
For nearly half the night.

Soon Colin triumphed in each game
And friends seemed to quadruple;
His weapon’s strength meant he became
A much-respected pupil.

The school knockout was coming up
For hot-shots and defenders,
What joy to win the conker cup
By thrashing all contenders.

Kids massed to heckle or support,
The prize, a cardboard trophy,
Our hero's heart raced when he thought
He’d caught the eye of Sophie.

His missile won in each tough round,
Opponents’ cracked and shattered,
Loud cheering filled the old playground
When chestnut debris scattered.

But with the final due to start
And Colin still unbeaten,
A teacher came with box and chart
Whose name was Mr Heaton.

The box contained odd things that day,
He said (and my mind boggles)
‘Boys, conkers you can only play
In hard tin hats and goggles.

A splinter can endanger us
When it goes flying high
And random bits are dangerous
If they go in the eye.'

Both finalists postponed the game
Yet Colin still would lose;
Sweet Sophie left and he felt shame
As cheers turned into boos.

Aware of threats but never fun
Are health and safety plonkers;
Though Colin owned the greatest one
The lad retired from conkers.


©

Syria? To mention only one.


Poor Colin.

This is one of my many poems which are a bit 'unfinished' but I posted it to get some feedback, which I appreciate and agree with you Musty.

I don't know whether this happens to other people but sometimes I know in my head which direction I'm trying to go but just can't seem to get there. Sometimes It can take me ages and I have to keep going back to the poem and other times I just give up.

Biz, you are right, it isn't about any particular war/conflict but a generalisation that some conflicts are caused by failure to communicate - lost in translation, hence the 'language' connection.

I will come back to it at some point and if I do get there, I will post the finished result but it is good to get other people's thoughts while it's still a 'work in progress' because that in itself can help give direction.

Thanks guys

Seren words don't have to be in a different language to get lost in translation.

Very true

Despite the serious health & safety point, the poem was meant to be funny overall Biz


That's happened to me as well Seren. Some poems I can write very quickly but others do hang around for ages. Hidden took two hours in my local Sainsbury's restaurant the other day - I find it very relaxing there. It's the first poem I've ever started and completed 'outdoors' It feels great to be writing new material again

I found me gold, Musty!!

Nice one Twass

The Doors

LA woman
Meet me on
Those psychedelic shores
And bring along the Lizard King,
Lead singer with The Doors.

Every note from
Laid-back keyboards
Sparked and lit our fires;
The lazy beat of desert heat,
Ray Manzarek inspires.

Through the unrest
Of a tripping
Modern zeitgeist change,
The one rock band to understand
The truth, people are strange.

We waited for
The sun then watched
Jim Morrison soar high,
A single form who rode the storm
And blazed across the sky.


©

Marvelous stuff Musty.




Love The Doors; Jim Morrison was such a charismatic front man and a wonderful lyricist.

I Know

I know the emptiness you feel
Now they have left your world
I know you can’t recall a time
Without her and your girls

I know you can’t remember how
To simply just be one
And you could never see a time
When they would all be gone

I know the pain it feels to breathe
When all within is hollow
With every thought inside your head
Impossible to follow

I know how hard it is to place
One foot before the other
And if I try to bear your weight
I know you’ll run for cover

I know the dark void in your eyes
The trembling of your skin
The anguished sobs still yet to come
Solace finds no way in

I know no words can ease the pain
Or chase away your fears
For ‘Daddy’ is the single word
Your ears will need to hear

I know you need to touch their hair
And hold them in embrace
To hear their laughter one more time
And see it on their face

I know you need to see their joy
And lay them on your chest
I know you need to smooth their frowns
And lay them down to rest

I know the chill each day evokes
The tears that dawn will bring
As soon as your eyes touch the light
How quickly they will sting

I know you want to strike it down
Prevent it all from turning
I know you’ll seek to find a way
To banish all the hurting

I know you won’t believe my words
Although they will be true
But when you gaze into my eyes
You’ll know I’ve been you too

I am an internet troll,
Not really, for the purpose of
Poetry I assume a role.

I am as many presume
A complete arsehole
But! not as useful to
Society as a real one
After all you can sit on a ...
Oh never mind, the rest
Is elementary or alimentary,
you'll see where this is going.

I shit at my computer,
Have colossal cheek,
Let all my bile vituperation leak
In vile strong words in public;
Though I'm a nothing, weak
And personally meek,
Of course a geek
Friendless, soulless, useless,
Less than the dirt and stink of which I reek.
But I am stupid too to publish my crappy
Remarks as I have so unwisely done,
The copper's said you're nicked my son.

Well done indeed.

I love the use of repetition in this heartfelt poem.