Aug 2017 – Page 2 – Hues of Hankinson

Dreams lie lost amid the sands…

Lazy Sunday.

Somewhere between the sea and the sky,

my dreams fly free.

They rise and fall

on the gentle breeze

beyond the heat haze on the horizon.

My spirit with the seagull

soaring and then stalls suddenly,

shattered upon the rocks of reason.

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is my quadrille for d’Verse based on “dream”. The images were from our lazy Sunday afternoon walk yesterday. The sky was endless, the birds were amazing. In the distance you can see the sea windmills, they looked like they were dancing just above the horizon.

Wondering about the ripple effect…

Please forgive me for I do not normally enter the murky waters of the global political arena but this week has made me shudder to the core and I wonder if we can ever truly know the impact of these ripples across our world and I think that the words of Marcus Aurelius are important, sometimes these ripples can go beyond these moments of existence in which we find ourselves and impact forever on those future generations that have not yet even been born. I wonder when and how power is somehow more important than commons sense and responsibility.

The word rhetoric is bandied about across the airwaves by high stakes/high impact global media but the word rhetoric means something akin to- the art of effective or persuasive speaking or writing, and implies use of persuasive speaking and writing techniques. I hardly think that verbal spats via twitter can be classed as rhetoric when the persuasion comes from the immediacy and availability rather than the subtle and persuasive use of the actual spoken word. The words I have heard seem to be verging on aggression and antagonism and have been blunt and course. Perhaps this is a new form of rhetoric.

What happened to accountability and responsibility here? Are our global futures to be suspended in the wake of the ripples of power hungry egotistical leaders with no care for the long term global impact of the fall-out from this folly?

©Alison Jean Hankinson

The image is my own. It is Te Matau a Pohe bridge in Whangarei. Perhaps we are at a bridge. Fancy a game of Pooh sticks…see who wins?

Dolores desires…

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Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dachshund to be precise. It would wibble-wobble down the street, and always be at her side.

Dolores dreamed of owning a dog, a dutiful and loyal pedigree. It would sleep contentedly on her bed at night, in return, she would love it unconditionally.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

I wrote this for Ellen.

The image is from wikimedia and is for re-use in the public domain.

Hospital Birth

Darkest hours

Patiently pacing

Dim-lit dawn

Life-embracing.

Bald cry echoes

Through the walls

First born child’s

Entrance call.

Birth Newborn Sleeping Baby Girl Infant Hospital

This is for Jillys challenge

Where we complete the beginning of a poem and see if someone else can complete it. So this is my beginning bit.

The image was for reuse in the public domain from max pixel.

Alison Jean Hankinson

Lady, Green and Red.

Lady loved the plants’ light green
With flowers brightly red.
Her face angelically serene
Had leaves to shade her head.
She sat upon the mantelpiece
Amidst the Christmas cheer
Overshadowed by the nativity
And the radiant poinsettia.

This was to add to Frank’s (Frank Hubeny) poem, he wrote the first stanza and the second I wrote. Linked to Jilly’s Casting Bricks August Challenge as the second part of a cooperative poem.

Lamentable Dementia.

Morgan Stanley, Epping Forest

Fisher Dogger Bight.

Cream Teas, cottage cheese

What has happened to my sight?

I had a boat the Mary Ellen

She sailed the seven seas

We braved the ocean regularly

We relished every breeze.

I sometimes think I had a wife

Whose name was Rosa May.

I’m not bitter-I enjoyed my life

But my memory has gone away.

Who are you? Why are you here?

Losing my mind is what I fear.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse open link night, and is dedicated to the people who reside at Rimu Park, Radius residential care home in Whangarei, where I used to take the students to read to the older folk.

Dementia is a cruel disease in so many ways. You have to try to build up the picture of a persons life from fragments of story. I think this is what dad would be like if he ever ended up with dementia. He sailed his boat for as long as he could after he lost his bosun and has now moved on to caravans, but the shipping forecast with its wonderful array of places was always waited for and listened to.

The beauty of imperfection.

In d’Verse we were asked to focus on imperfection for our haibun Monday Wabi-Sabi. My haiku isn’t a proper one as it is human.

Today I started my new job and met some new work colleagues. One beautiful lady was in the office with her baby, she was on maternity leave but had come in to share the joy of this young man. He looked beautiful and his arms were so open and he looked so uncurled and yet it took me back to the arrival of my girls. Ellen emerged in a state of perfect relaxation, but Emily’s arrival was more stark and primaeval, the screams were of real anger and short-lived. She was whisked off to the SCBU within the hour when I told the nurses it sounded like she was barking. Unbeknown to us the damage was already done.

Emily was diagnosed with cerebral palsy in the November on my birthday, was classed as having spasticity in all four quadrants and we were told she might never walk. Ellen and Emily worked together on this and she walked at 16 months old. We just carried on as best we could and she has achieved so much in her 18 years so far, and her imperfections are actually just a part of her surreal beauty and magical character. What she has achieved so far in her young life is way and above what many people without such obvious imperfections achieve. I told some of my story and was horrified at the irony-all is not what it seems and this little fellow had a similar story, but my little girl with her imperfections is nothing short of inspiration for others who are treading these uncertain imperfect waters.

Winter frost beckons
Stiff frozen imperfections
Sibling love melts ice.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Beyond the shadows.

Maternal misgivings

Miscarriage numbs

Shades of silence separate us

Sorrow prevails

Suspended in shadows

Marriage meltdown

In grief defeated.

Barren and bewildered

Love lies

Dormant in the dust.

Test-tube babies

Twin harbingers of joy

Anchored in re-kindled love

Sunshine streams through

The clouds

This is for d’Verse where we were asked to use the word “shade”.

Love beyond the grave.

She gave away her heart

Beneath the beating sun

He held her hand so close

She was his only one.

In time, they knew, love grew

More each day and more

The years went by, youth flew

Old age caught up for sure.

In death she held his heart

And wept for days of old

Her tears ran down his face

Against her skin his hand felt cold.

Love lingers on beyond

Though tears she sheds no more

She takes his love to Heaven

His soul to meet once more.

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A second attempt for d’Verse…at trimeter…wonder if I got it this time?

The image is my Great Grandfather John Henry Mcclanaghan and his wife Frances with their eldest daughter Frances. Taken about 1904. theirs was an unusual love story. Some of it is in the link below.

Salford Pals

Any Old Iron

Roaring “Rag and Bone”

Bellowing “Rag and Bone”

Poorhouse strays, poverty weighs

Pawnshop dray, debtors pay

Loanshark says,

change your ways

Or else….we’ll end your days.

The challenge that Frank set at d’Verse was to create a poem in trimeter. I had to think and try really hard and I am not sure if it is or isn’t so hopefully it is. Frank said “For this challenge, write a poem that uses trimeter lines. All of the lines in the poem do not have to be in trimeter, but enough should be so that one can tell this meter was used on purpose. The poems do not have to rhyme nor must they have any other sound qualities about them.

The rag and bone man used to come along our road in the 1970’s shouting “Any old iron” in fact we used them a bit like a swap shop, we put things on the cart and sometimes we took something in return. I was a child.

The image was labelled for reuse from Flickr and was actually from Newcastle libraries. this went with the photo:

Tor623, Rag and Bone Man, Newcastle upon Tyne
Description: Laszlo Torday arrived in Tynemouth in January 1940 from Hungary and took most of his photographs of Tyneside during the 1960’s and 1970’s. They reflect his interest in the streets and people of Newcastle especially of central Newcastle and the suburbs of Heaton and Jesmond. : The physical collection held by Newcastle Libraries comprises 100 photograph albums of black and white prints plus 16 boxes of colour transparencies. We are keen to find out more about them.