Wednesday, July 31, 2013

592 : The Leap

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads invites us to write about fish.

The Leap…whatever.

“Swim little fish, swim if you can”,
The rhyme ran through his head.
So ‘round and ‘round the bowl he swam—
What a dreary life he lead!

That was until the fateful day
When a bowl came on the scene
That contained a fishy lady,
The first he’d ever seen.

To visit the fishy lady
Became is life-long goal
And so this forward fishy man
Jumped straight into her bowl.

“What do you think you are doing?”
She asked in mock distain,
But inside she was pleased he’d come
And hoped he would remain.

But goldfish are amnesiacs,
And thoughts quickly bid ‘adieu’.
The fishy-him turned to the fishy-her
And asked “Who the hell are you?”
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Sunday, July 28, 2013

591 : The Temple Ruins

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #119) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are:

one, wove, scarce, revisited, rain, rooted, 
crows, vegetation, last, cells, eroded, strength

The Temple Ruins.

The jungle has moved in.
Vegetation has reclaimed the temple.
Giant figs have rooted, grown,
And embraced the crumbling fa├žade
With the strength of a mother 
Welcoming a loved one back to the fold.
Over this, rain throws a dismal cloak.
The atmosphere is stifling,
The rats are in control.

Some people we know
Are like places we have long left
And should not be revisited.
Distance lends an enchantment 
That does not last upon returning.

The magic they once wove is faded,
Eroded by time, 
By experience, 
By life.

The jungle has moved in.
Vegetation has reclaimed the temple.

Superficially they are unchanged,
Same cells, same bones, same hair.
Encased in an unfamiliar robe,
The humourless robe of the mean. 
Goodwill is scarce.
Different rats.

They look at you with malevolent eyes,
Eyes a crow would envy.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

590 : Save Your Breath

Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were Apologise, Derelict and Medicate.

Save Your Breath

Don’t apologise for base rudeness—
Each day you matter less and less.
I’ll neither retreat from the plain
Nor medicate away my pain
Life is better, I must profess,
Protected from your bitchiness
By friends who helped me reassess—
As I don’t expect any change
Don’t apologise.

Any remorse will not impress
I’d be derelict to acquiesce
And put it all in place again.
As you deserve but scant disdain,
And I’m not about to reassess:
Don’t apologise.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

589 : The Consoling Muse

Red Dirt Girl commented on the apparent
Impact of my current muse in recent works.
It set me thinking.

The Consoling Muse

I have always been 
Vaguely jealous
Of painters and sculptors.
Their muses are all
Scantily clad, if at all.
So much more
So much more 
So much more
Hands on, 
As it were.

Poets are the poor cousins
When it comes to our muses;
Our muses can be miles away
Unsullied and,
Fully clothed.
Doesn’t seen fair.

But we have one advantage
Over the daubers and chippers:
We can have negative muses,
Muses that bring out the
Vocabulary of hurt,
The words of indignation
From the lexicon of grief.
So much easier in words
Than in oils or stone.

A scant but significant 
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Monday, July 22, 2013

588 : The Swooner

One Single Impression has the prompt 'Swoon'.

The Swooner

Narcissus was so overcome
With his own reflection
He swooned, 
Enchanted by the sight
Of such sweet perfection.

Poor Boy.
Self-love will only destroy,
Invite mockery from the crowd.
A lesson of value to some
But lost upon the proud.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

587 : Two Sides of the Jonquil

Photo via Red Dirt Girl, I think.

Two Sides of the Jonquil

The promise of spring,
The first bulb to appear in my garden,
The jonquil has a simple elegance,
An old world purity, about it
That is quite enchanting.

It is, therefore, ironic
That the gelatinous slime 
That exudes from its stem
When it is cut
Is both bitter 
And toxic.

But then,
How often is that the case
In our daily life?
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Sunday, July 21, 2013

586 : Tabula Rasa

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #118) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are:

repair, slate, time, driven, think, night, no
mesh, tear, room, longing, key, become

Tabula Rasa

No matter what you think,
Even though you may wish otherwise,
There comes a time to acknowledge
That things are beyond repair,
That what once meshed so well,
No longer does.

Tabula rasa, 
The blank slate,
Is the key to moving forward,
To making room, 
To making space,
Ready to welcome a new start; 
Moving out of the night of tearful longing
Into the bright day of hope and change.

It is not always a case of being driven
To become something new
But by being repulsed 
By remaining with the old.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

585 : A fellow would frequently play...

Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.
She provides the first line,
the rest is up to us.

A fellow would frequently play
The field, when his wife was away.
When found in a position
Of vigorous coition,
She buried him the very next day.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

584 : The Potato and the Fork

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads invites us to write a love letter
between two inanimate objects.  This is more a love story than a love letter,
but on a quiet Sunday morning, close enough.

The Potato and the Fork

In the darkness of the kitchen,
When all the work was through,
A piece of cutlery took the chance
To do what love must do:
He meekly asked a potato
“What sort of fruit are you?”

The spud, it was the starchy type,
Not one for idle talk,
It mixed with all the proper folk,
Like lamb and beef and pork,
And felt it had a place in life
Above a common fork.

But the fork, it still persisted
(Though you have to wonder why)
It summoned all its courage
And had another try—
“Potato dear, I must confess,
You're the apple of my eye!”

“Sod off, you little prong-y thing!”
(The reply was rather tart)
“My mother told me of your type
And I’m not about to start;
You get behind my defences 
Then pierce me through the heart!”

“Not true!” the fork cried, in dismay,
“Your mother has it wrong!
My uncle was a tuning fork
Here, let me sing a song!”
He then sang of his forky love,
Of passion hot and strong.

Oh, the potato, she was smitten,
Her heart was all aflutter,
In the face of the fork’s hot love
She melted just like butter,
“That’s not a good analogy”
Her Mother’s ghost would utter.

It’s said in war and also love
That everything is fair,

And so it came to pass one night,
Upon some dinnerware,
The fork fulfilled his destiny
And skewered his pomme de terre.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Saturday, July 20, 2013

583 : Simplicity

Sunday Scribblings has the prompt 'Wander'.


“I wander lonely as a cloud”
Wordsworth relayed one day.
A host of golden daffodils
Rewarding his foray.
He knew a very simple truth—
The essence of life’s quest:
Of all the pleasures we’re allowed,
The simple ones are best.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Friday, July 19, 2013

582 : Squeeze

Haiku Heights has the prompt 'Squeeze'.
Sadly, by the time I got around to it,
the prompt site had closed.
Moral: juice your fruit when it's fresh.

Life is a ripe fruit.
There is so much to squeeze out
If you care to look.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

581 : Respect

Three Word Wednesday requires participants
to use the three words of the week in a composition.
The words this week were Assign, Pretense and Traverse.


Without a doubt, it’s a fine pretense,
The face we show the world.
We all assign a pretty mask
While behind, the truth is curled.

That no-one is perfect.

Don’t ask
To cross the outer skin,
To traverse beyond their defences,
If only to reject what lies within.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Repost - Tending the Crops

"A Hind's Daughter" - Sir James Guthrie.

Tending the crops.

The farmer tills his fields,
Puts fences round his lot,
Knowing that his future yields
Will rise up from this plot.

He tends to his land,
Improves it where it needs;
For the crop that he has planned,
He lovingly picks his seeds.

For the farmer wisely knows
That what he plants he reaps,
No use planting aloes
If he wants to harvest neeps.

Now there’s a magic vigour
To a farmer’s crop bestowed:
The harvest's always bigger
Than the cup of seeds he sowed.

So it is with life, my friends,
And our plots are far from scant.
Deal with what the season sends
And be careful what you plant.

Plant love and more of it ensues,
As a crop, it tops the scale.
But if it's the seed of hate you choose,
Best hope your harvests fail.

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

580 : Expectations, Met and Unmet

Expectations, Met and Unmet.

Sitting in a country hotel,
On a business trip, of sorts.
The day’s tasks are done,
Dinner is finished,
The TV is off,
Winding down.
A time for coffee 
And quiet reflection.
Expectations have been met.
But they were never high.

In search
Of something basic, 
Something quite mundane 
I rummage through the pockets 
Of my travel case
And, unexpectedly, find a map, 
A map and directions
To another country hotel,
For a business trip, of sorts.
A strategic trip in the scheme of things.
That, too, ended with coffee
And a quiet reflection.
And unmet expectations.
But they too were never high.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

579 : The Tale of Samuel Morse.

This is the tale of Samuel Morse,
The plaintiff in a rough divorce.
Once he saw things were decayed,
He telegraphed, quite dismayed,
But alas he’d done his dash, of course.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

578 : Intersection


A chance meeting at a 
Departure lounge; 
A temporary intersection,
A temporal intersession.
A confluence of streams.

We talked, as one does,
And you shared a life.
A life of loves, 
Come and gone,
Of dreams, 
Now and then,
Of a life exiled,
Of a child,
Now gone,
But who lives on,
Loved on.

You talked with passion
With love, 
With a certain sadness,
With more to be said
I suspect,

And then you were gone—
Back into the passing stream
Of life.

I wonder.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Sunday, July 14, 2013

577 : Basic Instinct

The tabloids had a story a little while ago of a lady who,
on the surface was happily married, but regularly
killed off her lovers, both male and female.

Her husband performed as required to,
And he even had managed to sire two,
But free sex was permitted
And her chalet was littered
With the bones of those who aspired to.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

576 : The Lock

Poets United had the prompt "Lock"


We set locks to keep people out,
Barriers to the wicked,
But lose a little of ourselves
While hiding in the thicket.

It can serve no useful purpose,
Distrusting all we meet,
It’s really not what life's about—
Freedom is a two-way street.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

575 : Beauty

Haiku Heights had the prompt "Beauty"
Image from Facebook.

A phrase long held true—
Pretty is a shallow thing,
Beauty's from within.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

574 : Swings

Haiku Heights has the prompt "Swing".


Higher and higher,
The laughter of young children,
Gravity defied.

Be very careful
Or the pendulum of life
Swings back to hit you.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Friday, July 12, 2013

573 : Well Dressed

Photo from Lola's Loves

Vis-a-vis style, the French wrote the book,
Even more, they knew how to cook.  
And who could forget 
Marie Antoinette
With her ‘off at the shoulder’ look?
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

572 : The Lake

Poetic Bloomings has the prompt "Lakes, Oceans, Waterways".

The Lake

There’s a joy that few can know,
To move upon the lake,
To cast off your landlocked cares
And leave them in your wake.

The nights,
The sounds,
The smells,
The sights.

Now there’s a freedom that you’re wielding
And you can enjoy the calming glow
That the lake is yielding.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Thursday, July 11, 2013

571 : The Demons

One Single Impression has the prompt 'Demon".

The Demons

We all fight, in separate ways,
The demons in our minds;
Creatures of the dark recesses
That trade in the unkind.

Freud knew,
Our inner knows it too.

Build upon the angst within
And so put fractures on display,
To let the demons in.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

570 : A Measure of Trust

Haiku Heights has the prompt 'Measure'

"Never lie to someone who trusts you.
Never trust someone who lies to you."
― Deanna Wadsworth

As a basic rule,
To have a friend you can trust
Is beyond measure.

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

569 : Baptiste the Dragon

Baptiste the Dragon

Baptiste the Dragon was so kind,
As kind as kind could be.
He breathed no fire,
Played songs on a lyre
And had sticky buns for tea,
For tea,
And had sticky buns for tea.

Baptiste the Dragon was so kind,
As sweet as a baby lamb.
He would hold open a door,
And would never snore
And offered his seat on a tram
On a tram,
And offered his seat on a tram

Baptiste the Dragon was so kind,
All sugar, with no spice.
He was so bland in every sense
Even St George took no offence,
And children asked his advice,
His advice,
And children asked his advice.

Baptiste the Dragon was so kind,
He loved to smell the flowers
He’d bathe in the sea,
Drinking chamomile tea,
And read poetry aloud for hours,
For hours,
And read poetry aloud for hours.

Baptiste the Dragon was so kind,
But there’s a lessen for those of his ilk.
He was completely beguiled
By a sneaky little child
Who ate him with a glass of milk,
Of milk,
Who ate him with a glass of milk,

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

568 : Rhapsody, in Sky Blue

Imaginary Garden with Real Toads has the prompt 'Rhapsody'.

Rhapsody, in Sky Blue.

It is a lovely day!
The sky is clear and blue.
Past the solstice;
It is cold,
Frosty and, in its own way,
The essence of mid-winter.

The trees have lost or
Are belatedly,
Losing their chequered garb.
And the first bulbs bravely push 
Through the cold soil
Into the pallid sun.
The cherry trees 
Are in blossom.

It is lovely to be out,
To be walking without care,
To watch others, with dogs,
Or strollers or wired for sound
As they, as if unaware of the 
Beauty around them, walk 
Through the midst of,
Through the mist of,
The mid-winter day,

They are missing so much.
And yet, in their own way,
They are happy.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

567 : The Trawler

Mary, at Poetry Jam, put up 
the prompt ‘A Bird’s Eye View’.

The Trawler.

Old, ugly, lumbering.
The trawler drags its nets
Over already fished waters,
In search of yet smaller fish.
Above, the gulls circle, 
Watching, crying indignantly.

The catch is mixed:
Fish, certainly, of various sizes,
Old bottles that once held perfume
Or wines from the sunny hills
Or perhaps letters from the marooned.
Above, the gulls circle, 
Watching, crying indignantly.

Plastic, less endearing,
Old netting, bits of ships,
Lost and long forgotten.
Flotsam and jetsam.
Like all vessels of this type
It smells.
Above, the gulls circle, 
Watching, crying indignantly.

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

566 : Smoke & Mirrors

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #116) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are:  

voices, impossible, scare, climb, risk, listen,
where, smoke, happens, pressure, might, orders

Smoke & Mirrors

The voices in the night,
Hinting at what might 
Or might not, 

It is impossible
Not to listen,
Not to succumb to the pressure 
Of the ceaseless 

And then, 
Come the morning,
Come the dawning of the day,
The light does not scare them away.
They still linger, 
As you drive, 
As you climb the stairs or 
Almost anywhere.
They catch you unawares.
Ambush you.  
Scare you.
Order you to listen
As if they are the only ones 
That matter.

There is no smoke 
Without fire,
Or so they say, 
But in this fragmented
Kaleidoscope of the fanciful,
There is a risk that you 
Are just fighting
Smoke and mirrors.

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Monday, July 08, 2013

565 : The Sand Dragon

Haiku Heights has the prompt 'Sand'.

Fears are built on sand.
Even dragons wash away
With the swelling tide.

© J Cosmo Newbery 2013

Thursday, July 04, 2013

564 : Merlot, the Magician

A little ditty to clear the brain,
Even if the wine doesn't.
Written after a long day,
Also long after the witching hour.

Merlot, the Magician

When the brown stuff hits the fan
And is flung around the room,
When the storm clouds fill the sky
And the sense is one of gloom,

Never mind.

Even though you are inclined
To cry.

Something learnt over time:
Nothing so sets it right again
As a glass of good red wine.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2013