Saturday, October 28, 2017

1157 - Did I hear the corn jar shake?

Feeding the chickens.
One of life's small mysteries:
How do they smell corn?
© J Cosmo Newbery 2017

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

1156 - Harvest

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #321) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are:

possible, pretense, individual, light, challenge, teeming,
route, drug, shock, jump, bulk, dearth


There's no dearth of kindness
In this world of ours;
Only in our blindness
We gather thorns for flowers.
- Gerald Massey

Some individuals prickle,
Spikey and aggressive.
They seem to enjoy it—
As if it is a drug of sorts—
Enjoy the challenge
To get under our skin,
To shock,
To hurt,
Too often.

But on reflection,
Offence is taken,
Not given.
In a day teeming with words
The bulk of them fly past.
Why is it possible 
For some to make us jump
While others go almost unnoticed?
Perhaps the route to a happy life
Is to let them all go past.

But what if it is all pretense?
Paraphrasing Gibran—
If thorns are all they have to give
Then is giving them
On their part?
© J Cosmo Newbery 2017

Sunday, October 08, 2017

1155 - The Starless Night

Sunday Whirl (Wordle #320) presents a list of words
that we must incorporate in a writing piece.  

The words this week are:

road, lift, charge, star, swirl, mystery, 
struggle, fringe, list, sigh, storm, power

The Starless Night

“It is hard for a free fish to understand
what is happening to a hooked one.”
― Karl A. Menninger

Not every road
Is smooth,
And awash 
With the warm tones
Of early morning sunlight.

Some struggle on paths
That are littered
With a fearsome list of obstacles,
Strewn with rocks and pits.

They walk on,
Battered by wild storms,
Some of their making,
Others, mysteriously, not so.
Storms that swirl
With oppressive power
Crackle with charged menace
And ominous rumblings.
They seem to attract them.

These are the night dwellers
The fringe dwellers,
Where life has no dawn.
Where living, 
Generously interpreted,
Has no stars.
Even Vincent had stars.
With nothing to lift the eyes,
Or the spirits,
They trudge on,
Stopping occasionally
To sigh.
© J Cosmo Newbery 2017