A Trio of Summer Poems.

Don’t cry Caterpillar by Grace Nichols

Don’t cry Caterpillar

Caterpillar, don’t cry

You’ll be a butterfly - bye and bye

Caterpiller, don’t cry

Don’t worry bout a thing

‘But ‘ said the Caterpillar,

‘Will I still know myself  - in wings?

-----------------------------------------------------

Moonlight, Summer Moonlight by Emily Bronte.

‘Twas moonlight, summer moonlight.

All soft and still and fair;

The silent time of midnight

Shine sweetly everywhere.

But most where trees are sending

Their breezy boughs on high,

Or stooping low and lending

A shelter from the sky.

------------------------------------------------------

The Rain by May Justus.

The rain has silver sandals

For dancing in the spring

And shoes with tassels

For summer frolicking.

Her boots have hobnails

Of ice from heel to toe

Which now and then she changes

For moccasins of snow.

-----------------------------------------------------

Found this on the internet - un-named piece.

The Road Uphill

When things go wrong as they sometimes will,

When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,

When the funds are low and the debts are high,

And you want to smile, but you have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit

Rest if you must, but don’t you quit

Life is strange with its twists and turns

As everyone one of us sometimes learns.

And many a failure turns about

When you might have won had you stuck it out

Don’t give up though the pace seems slow

You may succeed with another blow!

Success is failure turned inside out

The silver tint on the clouds of doubt,

And you never can tell just how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far

So stick it out when you’re hardest hit

It’s when things seem worst, that you must not quit

The Magpie by marge.

THE MAGPIE.

Oh! What an elegant bird

So good to look at,

Wearing his formal clothes

But then,  they make that awful sound

That is so bad to hear.

Oh! What an imposing bird

Did you know, that when

He takes a wife,

it is for life BUT

he is so noisy to hear.

Oh! What an iridescent bird

Known as the Devil’s bird who

Sat on the cross of Christ

And unlike the Dove, shed not a tear.

His shrieks are shrill to hear.

Oh! What a superstitious bird

They collect in trees.

In Nursery Rhyme books we

Count them to see if we are to

Lucky or unlucky!

It is just his sound, so awful to hear,

Magpies, One for sorrow

              Two for joy

              Three for a girl

               Four for a boy

               Five for silver

               Six for gold

               Seven for a secret never to be told

               Eight for a wish

               Nine for a kiss

               Ten for a surprise you should be careful not to miss

               Eleven for health

               Twelve for wealth

               Thirteen beware, it’s the Devil himself.

(We saw 14 in a nearby tree - from our bedroom window.)

Up, Up and Away!! by marge.

My balloon is blue and romantic,

Drifting like a fairy. Bright and airy.

Decorated with Forget Me Nots.

My balloon has light strings,

its basket is blue.

No people in its basket,

but full of pretty, dainty

pale pink and blue

Forget Me Nots

Going for a ride.

To keep this precious cargo

Safe and making sure it does not

Fly too far away. It’s strong

Blue Anchor.

Holds it in place.

NOTE: Inspiration for this poem a

is a vintage Postcard (1908 approx.)

By Misch & Co. “Floraltown”.

Designed in England.

Printed in Germany.

Transient Joys by marge.

Transient Joys by marge.

The relief and pride on a mothers

Face when she holds her baby

For the first time.

The happy gurgle from that baby

When they discover they have toes

For the first time.

Those first few hesitant steps

Wobbling across the carpet

To daddy for the first time.

The first day at nursery or school

You know no one and nothing

Maybe leaving mummy

For the first time.

School days pass in a whirr

Lessons, homework, friends

New things, new places

Then its work or University

For the first time.

Life gets more exciting,

Boyfriends, girlfriends

Loosening the bonds of home

Gap years, holidays, travel

For the first time.

Meeting that special person,

Love blossoming, moving in together

Marriage, that wonderful exciting

First day, sharing for the first time.

So, the circle of life progresses,

Pregnancy, thoughts of parenthood

All those thoughts, hopes and plans

Shared for the first time.

Thought for Today - for a Poet.

Thought for today - for a Poet.

LIVE like a poet

SPEAK like a poet

LOVE like a poet

THINK like a poet

DREAM like a poet

ACT like a poet.

Will it make you into a poet? You can only try it and see!

You do need to actually DO SOMETHING as well…….

WRITE A POEM!!

Ancient Trees by Thomas R. Ruffin.

Ancient Tree

sit there beneath winter heartbreak

and be burdened by the contravention of man

tree of immeasurable wisdom

limbs be weighted and deadened

decay will set from outward in

as time is not kind

all things end

old trees becomes then fallen

upon forest floors they rot

into the earth

without decent notice

and then, in some time, they are forgotten

ancient trees

much like men

yet from men escape souls

and in spiracle waft they go

… the souls of men

but trees

absent such souls

have earthly bindings

so upon cold forest ground

they rot

ancient trees.

The Bluebell, by Emily Bronte.

The Bluebell - Emily Brontë

The Bluebell is the sweetest flower

That waves in summer air:

Its blossoms have the mightiest power

To soothe my spirit's care.

There is a spell in purple heath

Too wildly, sadly dear;

The violet has a fragrant breath,

But fragrance will not cheer,

The trees are bare, the sun is cold,

And seldom, seldom seen;

The heavens have lost their zone of gold,

And earth her robe of green.

And ice upon the glancing stream

Has cast its sombre shade;

And distant hills and valleys seem

In frozen mist arrayed.

The Bluebell cannot charm me now,

The heath has lost its bloom;

The violets in the glen below,

They yield no sweet perfume.

But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,

'Tis better far away;

I know how fast my tears would swell

To see it smile to-day.

For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall

Adown that dreary sky,

And gild yon dank and darkened wall

With transient brilliancy;

How do I weep, how do I pine

For the time of flowers to come,

And turn me from that fading shine,

To mourn the fields of home!