Penelope’s Poems

May 8, 2009

Pipe Dream

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 2:22 pm

Pipe dream




Warm glow suffusing old bones

Rapture at images

As I float above my dreams

Wisps of smoke curling

Mingling with euphoria

All worries fade

All cares disappear

As I breathe deeply and sigh

A familiar high

Engulfs me

As I dream of my lottery win.


April 15, 2009

Child of the fifties

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 11:55 am

Child of the fifties

Hopscotch on the paving
Crumpets by the fire
Hoopla hoops and chicken coops
And singing in the choir
Climbing trees
And barking knees
And playing jacks ‘till late
Treasure chests and robin’s nests
And swinging on the gate
Snowman in the garden
Snow fights on the lawn
Ringlet locks and grubby socks
And waking up at dawn
Tadpoles in a jam jar
Cress on flannelette
Fireworks and baking perks
And wonderful chemistry set
Donkeys at the seaside
Brass band in the park
Sunday roast and buttered toast
Childhood was a lark

April 8, 2009


Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 10:25 am




The sea stretches the

Horizon to infinity

Booming and crashing

Against the cliffs

A seagull’s coarse

Laughter cleaving

The moment

Signalling the


Footsteps in the sand

Lead away

As if set in stone

The wind torments

And tangles

And tastes of a

Different salt

Lachrymose figure


April 7, 2009

The Mirror

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 10:26 am

The Mirror


Silvered glass

Mirroring humanity

You smile I smile

You raise a fist

Mine rises

Never knowing

True emotion

Merely reflecting

What I see

If you hit me

I break

Shatter into pieces

Before you

Admire me

And I reward

With flattering


No goal no aim

Just before you


Who you are

April 6, 2009

Ode to a Rugby Player

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:30 am

Ode to a rugby player


Oh man, if you could only see

The charge of electricity

That courses with my pounding blood

And causes such an obscene flood

Of fantasies to rock my mind;

I wonder, does it make you blind.

You grumble when you here my sighs.

They happen when I see those thighs.

It really does not seem quite just

When only men can show their lust.

A Spare Place

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:27 am
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A Spare Place

I sit in a chair and gaze
At the faces opposite me;
Our hands trembling in unison
My keepers will never see
The shame I feel as I sit in
Soiled underwear, pervading
My soul, turning hope to dust
And I shall never leave this place
Of death and despair; ‘till a bag
Is zipped; they’ll cover my face
For fear I may cause offence.

Somebody said we have fish
For lunch; like a Mexican wave
Our frail excitement undulates
And we smile.  No one is brave
Enough to ask” Is the fish fresh?”
Thus risking censorial frowns;
It pays to not rock the boat.
Mrs. Baker died yesterday.
Not one person lamented this,
No feelings in disarray;
A spare place at the table.

The Snowflake

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:24 am

The Snowflake


The little snowflake felt unique

In every, single way

And did not really want to drop

Into the light filled day.


She hovered, waiting in the clouds,

For just that perfect time,

When everything combined to make

Her destiny sublime;


Then in a flurry of her friends,

She drifted down to Earth.

And turned to slush beneath our feet;

An inauspicious birth




Christmas Eve

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:21 am

Christmas Eve




The fire is roaring.

The dog, he is snoring

And dreaming of when he was fed.

Outside it is snowing.

The candles are glowing.

The children are tucked up in bed.

The mistletoe beckons

And my husband reckons

It is time to cuddle instead.

Soft music is playing

And now we are swaying.

There is nothing left to be said.




Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:19 am




Fragile, tremulous, so it grew,


Its slender stalk so proud


It loved the shade of the tall tree;


The safety it allowed.


Its qualities were simply pure.


It blossomed in the night.


It drew its strength from its neighbour


And hid itself from light



A woman passed and looking down


She saw this fragile thing.


She plucked it from its hiding place


And made its small heart sing


She did not really mean it harm.


Its beauty smoothed her brow


And as it withered, so she cried,


Not knowing why or how.

Going Down

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:18 am

Going Down

Can you hear my scream silent and no less real than a Munch Painting?
Joints grinding like mill stones around my neck
Muscle atrophy and disease building to the Grande Finale
Can you see the fear in my eyes furtively searching for judgement?
Condemnation a regular expectation
Eyes cast down like unwanted presents
Can you taste the gall of bitterness my memories bring?
Trying to cling to some long forgotten delight
Like a frightened child to his comforter
Can you feel the unwanted tremble as I venture beyond these walls?
This prison that I call my home prison and sanctuary
Hiding from my own appetites and desires
I shall die unknown hidden inside this flesh
Corrupt and blown

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