creative – Page 9 – Hues of Hankinson

One Small Moment.

One small second

separates my life from my death

The surgeon stitches

focused only on his task

to save the life that falters here.

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d’Verse Poetics It’s All in the timing.

It’s all in the timing!

For Ellen

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Grief rolls over me

In huge tumultuous waves

leaving you behind

This time of year it always feels like the end of something and the start of something new. Even though we are in summer it is the end of the school year. It is always a time of reflection and it has also been a time of leaving for our family. I left my parents behind in Jan 2006, my last living visual memory of my mother was seeing her crying in the rear view mirror as we drove away to our new life here in New Zealand. It was only supposed to be a see you later, but it was a goodnight.

This year I am returning to spend time with my family and I have to say goodbye to some colleagues and friends after a very complex 11 years and it is very very difficult, they have walked beside me when I needed them. However the most difficult thing I have to do is to leave my eldest daughter here, and I sincerely hope for both of us it is simply a see you later and not to all a goodnight. This might not have been how the prompt was intended to be interpreted but it is what it spoke to me.

Haibun Monday: And to all a goodnight

Haibun Monday: And to all a goodnight

Emily Elfin

fairy

Mystical

She’s my secondborn

Cherubic smile, big blue eyes

Churlish Elfin charm

Nymph divine hides within her

Magical mystic manner

This is my contribution for imaginary. My elfin child who has always been able to mix the imaginary world with the real world.

This is her in a film made recently:

Grace’s Award winning film

Christmas Voices again..

Dec 11 The Grandma

Tinsel on the tree

Smells just like christmas cheer

love this time of year

Dec 12th The Store Manager

Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Come inside and spend your lolly

Make my profits soar.

A continuation with the voices…not sure I can sustain it to 25…I might have to resort to elves and Rudolph…

Spring calls

800px-bird_amidst_cherry_blossoms Bird takes spring steps- sings

Love songs from bare bough of tree

Winter is long gone

The stilted shrill calls her home

To nest in cherry blossom.

© Alison Jean Hankinson

Tanka for Carpe Diem #1091 Sonata in E, Op. 1/3 by Cecilia Maria Barthélemon

Image: Bird amidst the cherry blossom/https://www.flickr.com/photos/freedomiiphotography/8366458291/

https://www.flickr.com/people/53884652@N03

A year ago…dark satanic mills

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A year ago we were on our way… we had driven to Auckland, boarded the plane and we were probably somewhere around Australia now…mischief is sat on her cushion and she is thinking…mmm a year ago we were at the cattery…

School had finished and it was CHRISTMAS…. we still have a week to go this year…no wonder we are all grumpy.

A whole year ago…it felt so good, we were so excited, it was the holiday of a lifetime, funny that a trip “home” could be classed as a holiday of a lifetime but it was. The girls were 16, old enough to appreciate it and we had been gone for 10 long years. We took them back and helped them to reconnect, we took them to visit people and places that were part of their history and heritage. We wanted them to know the buildings and the customs and the language and the meaning of what it is to be English.

We love all that they have had and experienced here in Whangarei. We love all that they have learned and the friends they have made but we also wanted them to know their roots, they stand on the shoulders of giants and they need to know that part of the story too.

We come from the mill and mining towns of Lancashire, our forefathers were immigrants who came to build canals and railways and they gave blood sweat and tears to make Britain great in the Industrial revolution. They were working folk, the wives and women were brought up to be strong and steadfast. They men eked out an existence in the Pit or the factory and they found their strength and support in the Church, the Union or the Alehouse in no particular order. They lived loved and died amongst the bricks and the dirt, the smog and the soot, the dark dismal days of winter and the bracing breezes of brief summer days.

I wanted them to see the bricks, and feel the warmth of the hearts and souls who walked before them-whose existence they owe their own story and fortunes to. A year ago still feels like yesterday.

Image: Ancoats, Manchester. McConnel & Company’s mills, about 1820. From an old water-colour drawing of the period. Scanned from A Century of fine Cotton Spinning, 1790-1913. McConnel & Co. Ltd. Frontispiece. Scanned by Mr Stephen.

Treasure

Response to the daily prompt. california_high_desert_sunrise

Image creative commons-Sunrise in Joshua Tree California 01/05/12 Jessie Eastland

Treasure of the sun.

From the east comes the sun,

Her mantle red and gold

Her smile and nurturing warmth

In summer days unfolds.

Recipe for a meaningful life

Be humble

Recognise that whilst we walk similar paths we all stumble

Be kind

Recognise that in moments of despair it is the hand that we hold

that makes us blind

To the pain.

Be giving

Recognise that it is our contribution to living

That ultimately counts.

Be brave

Have courage to stand tall and speak truths

and lift up the spirit and soul

of young and old

Leave silent footprints

That others may follow

In their own time and at their own pace

Be mindful

Recognise and respect each moment for what it is

It is your live to be lived

Make it meaningful and worthwhile.

This is for d’verse Poetics recipes

Poetics ~ Recipe Poems

Alison Jean Hankinson

Mother’s Love

13411939_10209544645598467_2234712537344072344_o My tiny treasures

Look at the scar that you created

I wear it for you with love and pride.

I wear it with stoicism

Disfigured permanently for motherhood

We call it an apron

It hangs loose and saggy like an old washed out jumper.

This was written for the quadrille at d’Verse. Hope it is okay.

Quadrille#22

Christmas Voices

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I think this is a bit of trial and error…I wanted to create some kind of advent calendar in “writings”…. so this I will add to, and I am going to say the inspiration was from Gemma, my visits to Rimu Park from d’verse openlinknight-185. It asked for a poem, but I hope that I can do 24 that will all become one if that makes sense.

Rimu Park is the retirement home and as I visit I often learn new things about both the residents and my own outlook on life. I love Christmas dearly and I think I want to demonstrate through the full piece that it means different things to different people at different points in their lives. Whilst it can be a time of family and of love and sharing it can also be a time of loneliness and grief not just for people loved and lost but also for Christmas’ past.

December 1st. The Optimist

Christmas lights twinkle

Full of festive hopefulness

Heartaches falter fast

December 2nd. The Sage

Shadows and sorrows

Embers echo-Christmas past

Silent separation

December 3rd. The Giver

Secret Santa gifts

Friendly fun festivities

Given from my heart