Love – Page 5 – Hues of Hankinson

Simple things

It was a simple gesture

…………………. As the sun rose the seedling grew

Nosed its way nonchalantly through the weeds.

……………. Caressed by early summer sun,

Nourished by November rains.

With all its might it pushed through the merriment

Of opportunistic pumpkins and weary watermelons

And reached high for the sky,

………. One leaf at a time,

stretching sighing saluting the sun.

It was a simple gesture

…………. It spoke of unfaltering love.

………………………… The sunflower smiled

………… And reminded me that life is enriched

By the simple things.

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is for d’Verse meeting at the bar, where we were asked to consider silence. This sunflower was in my garden in NZ, planted as a seed by my husband to cheer me up in Spring/summer 2014 when I was unable to tend the garden following major surgery. I could see it from the bedroom window.

In the arms of an angel.

Her graceful gesture

Now complete

He held her hand close-by.

She gave with love

Her life complete

His lifeless slumber nigh.

The slightest smile

That settled faintly on his face

The truth of love descried.

She caressed his hand

And kissed his lips

Before his final sigh.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics where we are contemplating grace.

December 8th- Happy birthday mum.

Snow-capped mountains
Memories frozen in time
Sun melts through the pain.

I wrote the Haiku on Friday- mum’s birthday and what surprised me most is that this is the first year that I haven’t spent the day in tears, in fact I didn’t cry at all. I am not sure if this is some miraculous part of healing or because we are now at least home. All the other years I had to cope with both the feelings of loss and the separation by distance.

The snowy theme continued throughout the weekend and we set off on Saturday to visit Hays Garden Centre and in search of snow for Emily. We killed a few ghosts in Hays, it was a place I visited with mum one summer. We then drove up through Ambleside and snaked off to go up Kirkstone Pass to the third highest Pub in England, the highest inhabited building in Cumbria. As we drove past the chocolate box houses, with the gentle snowflakes falling, Mull of Kintyre was playing on the radio, and I was transported instantly back to Christmas past, as a youngster at Christmas celebrations with mum and dad and their friends and drunken antics and singing and I could hear mum’s laughter echoing through my head. The memory was so strong and this was when the tears were shed. The sense of both happiness and loss was overwhelming.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Mum passed away 9 years ago in 2008, today was her birthday. XXX

This is my offering for d’Verse haibun.

The Visit

He hung his cloak upon the hook

And snook into her room

He gave a welcome smile and then

His love lit up the room.

The visitor sat beside her as she slept

He smoothed her pain away

He gently mopped her fevered brow

And for her soul did pray.

The sunset glowing in the west

The day drew to a close

He took her tortured soul in hand

And exchanged it for a rose.

As morning sun lit up the room

Her family finally gathered

Her soul had passed across by now

Shared memories were all that mattered.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse poetics.

Feel that walking bass…

On the one level

it was a tango fandango.

A pink flamingo

a daring dance of dating

in the early throes of spring.

Shrill trumpet rising

sounds of Chuck Mangione

staccato toccata- reminiscent of Children of Sanchez

Conspiring to court Consuelo’s love

With a pink flamingo face.

One legged lover

with snazzy syncopated rhythm

with a strut to the left olé

and a strut to the right olé

strum that walking bass.

Things have been out of kilter this month and hence I am a little behind in things.

For d’Verse….

This is Tuesday’s poetics prompt that I didn’t finish….merging with meeting at the bar- and all that jazz….incidentally I think pink flamingoes merge well with jazz…

Links to Chuck..

Children of Sanchez

The image is from Wikipedia and has creative commons licence:

File: James’s Flamingo mating ritual.jpg

http://www.flickr.com/people/pedrosz/

by Pedros Szekely,

Wish you were near.

If I could turn back the clock and revisit the years

The worry and fears would feature less in our lives

I would hold your hand tightly and cherish the tears

I would be kinder, argue less, smile more and realise

That the memories and moments and having you near

Are worth more than ever as ever-swiftly time flies.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is my contribution to the birthday open link night at d’Verse. I am a November birthday. This is about my children, especially my firstborn twin, who is a long way from home and is bravely making her way in the world with no family at her side. When I look back at all the moments I wish there had been more time not less.

Shades of 50.

It is done, my fiftieth birthday year finally gone

Kicked the ass out of that, had a bit of fun

Moved house and home,

And now it is done.

Heartaches and happiness all in one.

What a year, glad to move on to 51.

this is a bit cheesy but all I could muster for this week’s Quadrille at d’Verse. I celebrated my fiftieth birthday in hospital and it has been a roller-coaster of a year and I think some of the biggest dips were in the last week, so I was a bit quiet….So tomorrow I start a new day, and a new year… and I will be 51.

I miss my Ellen though and would love to have her home with me. XXXX

Dear daughters

It’s never too late to change direction

If the path you are on is not going to lead to the life that you wanted then be brave, take a deep breath and take the fork in the road and change direction.

Don’t settle for less than you deserve. If you earned it then value it and value yourself. Don’t let anyone rubbish your achievements however great or small they may be. Every step forward is brave and courageous when you are journeying into the unknown.

Hold love carefully in your hands and hearts, it can be fragile and can break in the gentlest breeze or be strong and cross any void or vacuum. Take it for what it is and keep it safe in your memory whether it lasted a moment, a lifetime or an eternity.

Be kind to yourself. You are all you have. Don’t wrap yourself in cotton wool, but remember you only have one life.

Be kind to others. Be compassionate. They too will have a story, it might not be the same as yours but it will have laughter and tears, love, loss and heartache.

Ask for help when you need it. Sometimes a trouble shared is a trouble halved and there are souls out there who would gladly share their last supper with another who was in need.

Remember to look upwards, see the sunrise and the sunset. Look at the stars and the skies. There is a whole universe out there waiting.

Breathe. Slowly. Breathe. Take time to be in the moment. See it for what it is and then let it go.

Love always-

Mumma. XXX

Visiting time.

It is a moment shared

Amid the peace and quiet

Of a drizzly afternoon.

No need to talk anymore

Our words and thoughts are feathers

Floating on the breeze

A smile, a nod to show we care

A hand held here

Love’s conversation needs.

The image is my great grandfather John Henry Mcclenan- he was in the military hospital.

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Autumn mists

We had to take Emily to a very early morning television shoot, she was being an extra. It gave us the chance to make the most of Tatton Park and the autumn leaves before the trees are rendered naked by Ophelia. She became unexpectedly very ill and we rushed home and she was admitted to hospital. I had to come home and leave her there.

She phoned all awry and crying this morning and as I rushed to get to her I looked back towards the sea and saw the most amazing misty haze, and it was the calm before the storm, going into town the River Lune was like a looking glass. They have kept her in again and the wind is billowing and blowing.

Calm before the storm

Sea mists rise and hazy hues

Leaves flutter and fall.

This is for d’Verse. Haibun Monday.