The promenade bathed in winter sunshine,
Seagulls, chips and gravy, Blackpool rock
Then the Winter Gardens in all her splendour
bringing memories and echoes of a bygone era.
Reminiscing on a lifetime of cherished holidays
Whispers of childhood wishes and ghosts of summers past.
Alison Jean Hankinson
The challenge for tonight’s quadrille was Ghost. Today we revisited many ghosts as we took a road trip to Blackpool a place that will always hold a special place in my heart.
(If it was the Whales- we’d save them)
When Shep died and we were still young
We cried for our loss- not Shep’s
Now we have grown up and walked forward
But to our shame our souls have slipped backwards.
Rape, pillage and plunder, massacre and torture
Genocide, legalised murder and organised crime.
We can turn a blind eye if it’s not on our doorstep
There’s always a scapegoat, someone to blame.
If it’s not in our country then it’s not our problem
We can share in their loss without suffering the shame
Of committing the crime.
Voyeurism isn’t a crime.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone
Are any of us without sin
When we are the ones allowing it to happen?
Alison Jean Hankinson.
This poem is for d’Verse open link night. #189 Open link #189
The image is from Flickr and is of Syrian refugees. This is the link:
Burnished brambles soft
underfoot on winter hike
brisk I catch my breath.
Returning to England after eleven years in New Zealand and finding the immediate transition from summer soaring heat to winter chill more than a little breathtaking the temptation to hibernate has been more than very real, so it was with some trepidation and a whole lot of zealous determination that made me venture forth on Sunday to conquer Heversham Head post Sunday roast in Sunday best with hiking boots. I managed to avoid face-plant in mud..and was rewarded with landscapes beyond imagination.
Alison Jean Hankinson.
This is for Haibun Monday with d’Verse in response to the challenge and guidance provided by Bjorn. The image (my own) was taken following a brisk walk up Heversham Head on Sunday afternoon and is from the descent at Fluster Gap. It was rather chilly and bracing.
And so we came home to Eden
But Eden wasn’t home anymore
And we had grown out of it.
Seedlings nurtured by parental love
Branching out reaching out towards a world
Where Eden wasn’t familiar
And we had no place to call home.
Just an intimation an emotion
A security which represents home.
And then we asked the question
From the sudden realisation
Is home synonymous with kindred love
Is kindred love home?
Alison Jean Hankinson
This post/poem was added in response to d’Verse Poetics which took a closer look at the work of Ally Saunders.
The image that I responded to was this one, which is entitled Many Paths. I believe that I have travelled along many paths and have stumbled many times and however hard it is to journey down -my latest path is leading towards my kindred home.
#d'Verse-Poetics: Ally Saunders – A Closer Look
Comradeship a sculpture
in memory of Michael Dwyer
on the road to Wollengong
A tribute to an extraordinary man
with compassion and a care of others
With whispers of lives past
Hopes and voices of futures yet to be dreamed
amidst a sunny seascape
Alison Jean Hankinson
For d’Verse Quadrille #24
Sculpture Comradeship by Didier Balez
This tells you a little about the life of the man the sculpture commemorates:
Colossal mountain
And you know it is hard to climb
Sitting in the starlight,
Carboniferous days
And love turned to stone
When you left the valleys behind
And all that you can do
Is smile at the moon
And start the climb
Alison Jean Hankinson
This is for d’Verse open link night.
So today on Friday 13th of January our furniture is scheduled to leave Whangarei exactly 11 years to the day we arrived. We drove over the Brynderwyns on Friday 13 Jan 2006 and saw the vista of Whangarei and Mount Manaia for the very first time. I actually began to write this poem many years ago when it became clear to me that when leaving to pursue our dreams we inevitably leave behind places and people that we have grown to love and cherish.
Arohanui. Great love to all. XXXXXX
It was our second home
Inside we built lives and futures
We shared hopes and dreams
Aspired to greatness
Grew kindess and compassion
Sometimes said goodbye to lost souls and kindred spirits.
We tried to mend the ills of the world
And send forth young men and women
Capable of strength and resilience
Who could dance and sing to any tune
Knowing that they were capable of great things.
E block was more than a Nelson block of classrooms
It had a vibrant beating heart
And a soul of its very own.
It was our Taonga.
Here I stand cap in hand
A lifetime before me
And a lifetime behind me
And in the lamplight the path isn’t clear.
Here I lean upon my wooden bridge
Subdued memories ripple downstream in the wake of yesterday
And if I cross- hail what tomorrow brings
Shadows or sunsets in the evening?
Alison Jean Hankinson
For poetics d’Verse
Image– my mum and my daughter Ellen at St Annes, Lancashire. Mum was called Anne…
The lifetime behind me is my mum, whom I left behind and lost when I came to NZ, the lifetime before me is Ellen my eldest daughter whom I leave behind when I leave NZ to return to England.
Childhood memory haibun for d’Verse- Haibun monday #28
Joanne and Alyson Abel had a goat. It lived on a messy piece of land adjoining their house which was probably actually their garden. Our garden was similar- a messy piece of land over a footbridge and formed part of a field. It never got mowed it wasn’t that kind of grass. I caught endless fish in a bucket using old stockings and coathangers and always put them back.
I lived and played outdoors in the summer and I don’t remember the rain, I borrowed other people’s distant sheds and turned them into “ganghuts” or dens in Doubledeckers style. I would track the rivers back to streams and back to source and wash stones in the summer sun. I ate gooseberries from the bushes near the Goyt (not it’s real name) which was a dammed swimming hole behind the school which all the children were forbidden to use- but we all did and no-one died, floating in inner tubes late into the day until we heard the din of the mothers cooking dinner and shouting for their off-spring.
Summer glow in heart
Friendships echo through the blue
Childhood re-kindled.
Images
Water School from the fields
Isle of Man Mill. Courtesy of Wikimedia- Photo by Robert Wade 2011. (My mum worked there as a seamstress)
What if we had chosen the other road instead
Would our lives have been any less complex
any less full of stress, fear or dread?
Would it have been an easier journey with more laughter and mirth
Would our achievements have been of any greater worth
If in our infinite wisdom we had taken the other road instead.
Alison Jean Hankinson
Produced for the Daily Post:
Infinite
I did look up the meaning of infinite wisdom and it does state that it can be sarcastic/sardonic.
We have asked ourselves this many times in the last 11 years and we will never know the answer, however infinite our wisdom is or isn’t.
Image from Flickr
Sage Advice – Randy Heinitz
March 21, 2013 – Words of Wisdom on the Open Road… and playing around with Photoshop
Hues of Hankinson 
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