Submissions by Kexby (john rickell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write free verse.
Memories of Robert Frost
The path bent its way through the wood
I'd had a choice some yards back,
The fork, (was it the same?)
Left and right
Just like the hay-fork I carried.
I'd found it further back.
The thick and solid handle
Of the early path, now two
One brown with mud
The other flat and green
Strolled before.
It was winter.
Who had thrown away the fork?
It had been there a long time
The handle black with mould.
Had it been discarded last fall?
(A strange tool to find
In two thousand five
With its...
I'd had a choice some yards back,
The fork, (was it the same?)
Left and right
Just like the hay-fork I carried.
I'd found it further back.
The thick and solid handle
Of the early path, now two
One brown with mud
The other flat and green
Strolled before.
It was winter.
Who had thrown away the fork?
It had been there a long time
The handle black with mould.
Had it been discarded last fall?
(A strange tool to find
In two thousand five
With its...
636 reads
0 Comments
The London Train
The train drew in the station
waited for the fares
shiny new and grey.
Four million quid at least,
half a dozen got on board
four minutes he was off
to Marylebone I'm told
and other stops between.
Adventure? On a holiday?
or simply going home?
Some will sit in seats
more comfort than at home
and doze or dream or both
and let the fields go by
before the setting sun.
I lean upon the red brick wall
pleased for them who take the ride ...
waited for the fares
shiny new and grey.
Four million quid at least,
half a dozen got on board
four minutes he was off
to Marylebone I'm told
and other stops between.
Adventure? On a holiday?
or simply going home?
Some will sit in seats
more comfort than at home
and doze or dream or both
and let the fields go by
before the setting sun.
I lean upon the red brick wall
pleased for them who take the ride ...
554 reads
0 Comments
The Sculptor
If I could sculpt my love,
search for finest porphyry,
I would spend my life and carve
fit for Rome or Athens to rival
all that they display, then
weave a coat of finest silk
dyed in purple, rich and royal,
clinging close as skin
to hide you for myself.
Not for you the gaping crowds,
a need to hide your nature
you would sit as oft you do,
thighs relaxed and honest
smiling eyes and mouth,
thoughts, desires as my own.
The Opal and the Rose unfurled,
petals soft a...
search for finest porphyry,
I would spend my life and carve
fit for Rome or Athens to rival
all that they display, then
weave a coat of finest silk
dyed in purple, rich and royal,
clinging close as skin
to hide you for myself.
Not for you the gaping crowds,
a need to hide your nature
you would sit as oft you do,
thighs relaxed and honest
smiling eyes and mouth,
thoughts, desires as my own.
The Opal and the Rose unfurled,
petals soft a...
676 reads
4 Comments
Kids in a war
We took the table leg
set it on a stand,a nail at either end
and another in the middle
found a wheel from a pedal car
a solid disc and red
put the wheel on the middle nail,
we had our Lewis gun.
Stood vigil after school
shot everything in sight
but never in the night,
or mornings of a Sunday.
The Derwent Light Railway
ran at the back,
ammunition sheep and cattle
wobbled on its way to Dunnington
on spaghetti rails and grass,
stood on the wash-post to watch it pass.
Chase butterflies off Dad's spring...
set it on a stand,a nail at either end
and another in the middle
found a wheel from a pedal car
a solid disc and red
put the wheel on the middle nail,
we had our Lewis gun.
Stood vigil after school
shot everything in sight
but never in the night,
or mornings of a Sunday.
The Derwent Light Railway
ran at the back,
ammunition sheep and cattle
wobbled on its way to Dunnington
on spaghetti rails and grass,
stood on the wash-post to watch it pass.
Chase butterflies off Dad's spring...
759 reads
4 Comments
After thoughts on Felix
His nails were proud, aqualine,
his hands leather brown
as though wearing gloves
frosty nights and July sun
to cure his skin to hide
searching in the cardboard case,
cotton reels and thimbles;
it was the buttons mother bought
stitched to a blue-white card,
pyjama jackets,shirts for school,
mangled every week until they bent....
or the soda in the water
which ever was the first!
Sometimes Mam would say
there was nothing she needed
offering a penny “No” he'd say ...
his hands leather brown
as though wearing gloves
frosty nights and July sun
to cure his skin to hide
searching in the cardboard case,
cotton reels and thimbles;
it was the buttons mother bought
stitched to a blue-white card,
pyjama jackets,shirts for school,
mangled every week until they bent....
or the soda in the water
which ever was the first!
Sometimes Mam would say
there was nothing she needed
offering a penny “No” he'd say ...
731 reads
2 Comments
Kaleidoscope
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your old men dream dreams,
your young men will see visions.'
(Joel Ch2 v 28)
I saw the future from the stile
as of many days before,
every day I lean and learn
clouds disperse,congregate
as yesterday and tomorrow.
The field so wet a month ago
now dry as dust,the corn green
newly grown six weeks late
shivering in April showers, ...
your old men dream dreams,
your young men will see visions.'
(Joel Ch2 v 28)
I saw the future from the stile
as of many days before,
every day I lean and learn
clouds disperse,congregate
as yesterday and tomorrow.
The field so wet a month ago
now dry as dust,the corn green
newly grown six weeks late
shivering in April showers, ...
640 reads
2 Comments
Waiting for the shot
Mournful in the stubble field,
shining black and golden beaks
cold late sun glistening barrels,
orange cartridges, silent on the ground
a panting dog waiting for the 'fetch'
drifting smoke and lead,
Country sport raw in tooth and claw.
A life-time now, alone and silent.
Shining black and golden beak.
Away she flew, dazed and careless
to the lonely wood,waiting for the shot
which did not come.
shining black and golden beaks
cold late sun glistening barrels,
orange cartridges, silent on the ground
a panting dog waiting for the 'fetch'
drifting smoke and lead,
Country sport raw in tooth and claw.
A life-time now, alone and silent.
Shining black and golden beak.
Away she flew, dazed and careless
to the lonely wood,waiting for the shot
which did not come.
517 reads
0 Comments
In praise of the Dandelion
Put down your hoe and knife
Take up the lute and sing
Taraxacum the Golden !
Penny-round, shining everywhere
Loyal despite our scorn.
I walk the lanes and city streets,
See golden flowers everywhere,
Long stems in country lanes,
No taller than the grass
Waving in the breeze.
Short in tarmac pavement
Changeless flower
None to spoil the golden head
No orange lips,as with the daffodil
No silly names like "Chorus Girl"
On plastic packets in the shop
...
Take up the lute and sing
Taraxacum the Golden !
Penny-round, shining everywhere
Loyal despite our scorn.
I walk the lanes and city streets,
See golden flowers everywhere,
Long stems in country lanes,
No taller than the grass
Waving in the breeze.
Short in tarmac pavement
Changeless flower
None to spoil the golden head
No orange lips,as with the daffodil
No silly names like "Chorus Girl"
On plastic packets in the shop
...
669 reads
2 Comments
Digitalis
Statuesque, handsome, flowering
in the shade wild with crab
tempting as of ages, passed
legends steeped in belief,
faith for those who chose.
Do I resist your charms
embrace and kiss those purple lips
seek the nectar as the bee
Digitalis is your name
my finger deep within your folds
enter the goblet,purple freckles
innocent in that pouting mouth
bathe in the dangerous air,
unheed maternal warnings
drink sweet intoxicants
to calm my racing heart,
indulge myself 'til death
succumb as thousand...
in the shade wild with crab
tempting as of ages, passed
legends steeped in belief,
faith for those who chose.
Do I resist your charms
embrace and kiss those purple lips
seek the nectar as the bee
Digitalis is your name
my finger deep within your folds
enter the goblet,purple freckles
innocent in that pouting mouth
bathe in the dangerous air,
unheed maternal warnings
drink sweet intoxicants
to calm my racing heart,
indulge myself 'til death
succumb as thousand...
580 reads
0 Comments
Children playing in the Wood
I saw them in the wood playing hide-and-seek
old fashioned clothes hoods and leggings
as photographs.in the family bible.
And what a game they played!
hid behind the trees hands about their faces
count to ten,’I'm coming’ but I could hear no voices,
the woodland colder now could not hear their mother
no bird song in the air …………………..
I went a little further, the path I knew so well
cracking twigs and cones Jack barking at the wind.
I wore no hat or gloves not so cold today I thought
but a mist enclosed me in a fog, or so it seemed ...
old fashioned clothes hoods and leggings
as photographs.in the family bible.
And what a game they played!
hid behind the trees hands about their faces
count to ten,’I'm coming’ but I could hear no voices,
the woodland colder now could not hear their mother
no bird song in the air …………………..
I went a little further, the path I knew so well
cracking twigs and cones Jack barking at the wind.
I wore no hat or gloves not so cold today I thought
but a mist enclosed me in a fog, or so it seemed ...
632 reads
4 Comments
The Lady and the Parasol
A drowsy day and sleeping streets
fragrant jacarandas and futile shade
another glass to quench a thirst
which would not subside;
the sun high beneath the pines
I sat and thought one thought
I think she knew,
I could not hide my praise;
sun glasses laid aside,
to hide behind a darkened lens
and wine red glass was not polite.
I wanted her to know.
She drew her robe about her breasts
innocent gesture not to conceal
she knew the...
fragrant jacarandas and futile shade
another glass to quench a thirst
which would not subside;
the sun high beneath the pines
I sat and thought one thought
I think she knew,
I could not hide my praise;
sun glasses laid aside,
to hide behind a darkened lens
and wine red glass was not polite.
I wanted her to know.
She drew her robe about her breasts
innocent gesture not to conceal
she knew the...
626 reads
0 Comments
The Lady and the Parasol (1)
She sat beneath the parasol
white wine to her mouth.
How I envied the goblet
could feel the warmth of woman's lips
memory fresh as the Chardonnay
she sipped in exquisite calm;
my drink was red as my desire.
We smiled, raised glasses
I doffed my hat, she uncrossed her legs
and so we sat full half an hour.
She glanced at times ,I too,
admired her light brown hair
to her shoulders above her breasts
heavy in her blouse, held secure
by one lone button ,pearl as was her skin.
The afternoon droned on in the...
white wine to her mouth.
How I envied the goblet
could feel the warmth of woman's lips
memory fresh as the Chardonnay
she sipped in exquisite calm;
my drink was red as my desire.
We smiled, raised glasses
I doffed my hat, she uncrossed her legs
and so we sat full half an hour.
She glanced at times ,I too,
admired her light brown hair
to her shoulders above her breasts
heavy in her blouse, held secure
by one lone button ,pearl as was her skin.
The afternoon droned on in the...
588 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Kexby (john rickell)