Penelope’s Poems

May 8, 2009

Pipe Dream

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 2:22 pm
Tags:

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
Tags:

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 7, 2009

The Mirror

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 10:26 am
Tags:

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

Gestures

No goal no aim

Just before you

Revealing

Who you are

April 6, 2009

Ode to a Rugby Player

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:30 am
Tags:

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
Tags: , ,

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.

Paranoia

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:16 am
Tags:

Paranoia

 

 

I see you through the veil

 Of compliment and concern

Your knife gleaming

As it aims for my back

I see you through

The mist of friendship offered

Arms wide as if to embrace

Keeping your venom

Hidden behind silken tongue

Face smiling welcoming and wise

Advice covert arrows darting

I see you

Memories

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 8:02 am
Tags:

MEMORIES

 

 

 

Crushed in the yellowing pages of his mind,

Memories, like dried flowers, try to find

A brilliance they once had; recalling days

Once filled with laughter.  Sunny summer haze

Dappling her eyes with fire and shadows Sun kissed

Hair Rainbow spirit now so sadly missed. 

Half forgotten, whispered promises return

To linger in the air  Echoes that burn

His very soul, tormenting him afresh, yet

After all this time, he feels no regret

At having known and loved her.  Sad little man,

Enjoy your memories while you can.      

Grey Days

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 7:55 am
Tags:

Grey Days

 

Grey days, brolly on the beach,

Seagulls slicing the air,

Soggy sand and sandwiches

And tousled, windswept hair,

 

Herald the start of winter,

A time to stroll alone

And be at one with nature,

In this, I call my home.

 

The memories of summer

Are fading with the light

And seem somehow too gaudy

To contemplate at night.

Good Morning

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 7:54 am
Tags:

GOOD MORNING

 

An ominous drumbeat of rain

Vibrates the window pane

It can’t be half past six again!

Slowly opening bleary eyes,

Trying not to visualise

The morning’s grey and windswept skies

A nice warm bath is what I need

And then there’s the boys to feed

“Has anyone seen the dog’s lead?”

A quick smoke and half a cuppa

Wash the plates left from supper.

Breathe in hard, do up the popper!

Cuddle the dog and kiss the boys.

“Mind you pick up all your toys

And try to not make too much noise.”

Check your hair, your make up and lips.

Close the door.  Don’t swing your hips!

I hope I make a lot of tips.

Up the hill and along the way

Looking forward to my pay

And so begins another day.

Drag of a fag

Filed under: poetry — penelopephoebe @ 7:50 am
Tags:

DRAG OF A FAG

 

Sometimes life is such a drag

It bores me half to death.

Then I light another fag,

Which takes away my breath.

I love the halitosis

That lingers in the air.

I know I would always miss

It if it were not there.

The gentle ashtray perfume,

That some have grown to hate,

Wafts around my smoke filled room

And fills my lungs-just great!

Next Page »

Blog at WordPress.com.