View From My Window

This is one of the poems I submitted for the poetry assignment. I did okay! Very okay. I am a little breathless with relief. 

Winter’s Flagging

The pampas flags are at half mast, broken banners on the battlefield,     

the colour of bleached bone. Stripped clean by carrion winds.

The apple tree wraps its skeletal frame in streamers of ivy, dusty, dusky,

a faded camp-follower, sitting watch in her mouldering finery.

The lemon-acid winter sun, bright, etches umber, ecru, russet and moss green

on tree-trunks, terracotta warriors, camouflaged in the hedgerows.

The fragrant musk of mating fox hangs low to show that he can come and go at will. 
Screaming vixens ambush the dawn. Paprika tail flags up another conquest.

The robin’s gleaming breastplate far out-glows the understated English livery

of a finch in flight , and pigeons in pink waistcoats take the victors’ rights,

anticipating Spring.

A Sonnet - not quite Shakespeare yet.

I'm in that difficult space between submitting an assignment and getting the result. Slightly breathless with anxiety. I'm trying to move forward, as the next assignments come a bit thick and fast and there is a lot of work to do. We are now doing Life Writing. I thought I was finished with poetry but it seems not. This activity wanted you to look at an aspect of development of character. I tried a sonnet as I haven't had much success with them.

This lumpy girl with little piggy eyes
Cries as she walks and hopes someone will see
The sadness, written large upon her face,
And maybe take the time to stop and speak.

All muffled in her duffle coat and scarf,
She knows she's second best and, worse, perhaps
A sullen, sulky child, too hard to love,
She looks to strangers to fill in the gaps.

Today she finds she walks the streets with pride,
Takes pleasure in the challenge of each day.
She's learned at last to disregard the lies -
If your dog loves you, you must be okay.

She loves herself the way she is and knows
That confidence, if nurtured, will just grow.

What Cows Think About in the Rain

This is the poem I decided not to submit for my third assignment. We will see if I regret that decision! Two weeks to wait before I get the marks back...

What the Cow Thought About in the Rain

The cow sat down to chew the cud
and have a ruminate.
She thought it fair, if chickens brood,
opticians speculate.

Narcissists take time to reflect,
actors soliloquize;
it's probable string players fret
and sadists agonize.

Some folk on Scottish islands mull
over if ducks ponder
and divers thinking deeply will
debate if ramblers wonder.

Compulsive people must obsess,
and deer will rack their brains,
which leave the poets time to muse
on what cows think in rain.

JDaly