poems – Page 5 – Hues of Hankinson

Serenade to a misspent youth…..

Pink organza dress

A sea of roses in her hair

Undercurrent of sensual sorceress.

Scents of love promised

Followed by adrenalin rush.

Temptress divine

A moment of indiscretion

That claimed you as mine.

Followed by a tsunami of regret

And a lifetime of commitment.

Image:

Raimundo-de-Madrazo-y-Garreta

Aline with Flowers, Free to use for non commercial use.

I have decided to submit this poem for d’Verse open link night. I wrote it at the weekend. It took me a while to find an image that I liked, and I actually discovered a lot of images by Garreta that I liked, so that was a bonus.

Summer sleeps…

Hibernating hedgehogs

Slumbering squirrels

Luscious leaves crunch beneath my feet

As autumn prevails

Ochre turns to burgundy

Mist upon the hills

Children wrapped up snuggly

To keep them safe from seasonal chills.

This is for d’Verse meeting at the bar… is the season where many creatures are going to sleep for the winter- the trees were amazing today-but I only had my cellphone to get photos with…. I wanted to feel justified in my choice of burgundy….

Shades of Dad.

Winter

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

Christmas Carols ringing in my ears.

The fug of the snug

Stench of sweat and old men.

Scent of Old Spice wafts across the bar

And the unmistakable

Aroma of clan pipe tobacco

Lingers in the air.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse quadrille.

The photo is actually of my Dad’s dad, (My Grandad).

Anxiety

Still, as a mouse

If I breathe silently no-one will hear

No –one will be aware

That I live in fear

In this moment.

Tick tock tick tock

Pitter patter pitter patter

Boom boom boom boom

Pitter patter pitter patter

Tick tock tick tock

In this moment

I hear, taste and smell fear

Of my anguish no-one is aware

I breathe silently so no-one will hear

I stay still as a mouse

Frozen in anxiety.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Our love- a car crash.

Fear’s icy tendrils caress the nape of my neck

I see the mangled wreckage up ahead

Acrid smoke spewing from the burnt-out shell

That was your car.

Carnage.

Plastic bags strewn across the carriageway carelessly.

Empty nest, neglected summer,

Loneliness brandished in the scorched tyre treads.

Relief washes over me

I am waterfall to babbling brook

Phoenix from the ashes-you live on

We have a second chance to ignite and burn brightly.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse where metaphor is the challenge.

P1050740

Changing Seasons…

Winsome wind

Lifting leaves

From autumn trees.

Gusty squalls

Across the reach

Hearty waves crash on a windswept beach.

Stormy days unease

September’s short reprise

Before relentless chill of winter.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

As summer gives way to Autumn and we near the Fall equinox this seems to be the right poem for d’Verse open link night. Soon be out in those wellies crunching the fallen leaves…

A little bit of Frank…..

She gave me a gracious smile

It lingered on her lips awhile

And gave a subtle taste

Of the magical embrace

That would later take my breath away.

It’s that old black magic has me in its spell

It was a meeting of fleeting love

Of tenderness and stargazing above

We held hands beneath the moonlight

Our hearts burned like stars shining brightly.

In heat of desire our lips tangoed a fiery kiss.

That old black magic that you weave so well.

I loved her passionately for she had stolen my heart.

With those mystical eyes that had twinkled from the start.

I loved her for all that her kisses had promised to be to me

I loved her beyond the mellow moon we could see distantly

But by sunrise, our love tryst was over too soon.

The mate that fate had me created for.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

For a morsel of Magic over at dVerse tonight. Frank always had the magic….

The image was in the public domain- wikimedia, and is

Frank Sinatra and Jill St. John. From Tony Rome.

The moon tonight- I had to wait…there was cloud cover…it is a harvest moon.

Towards Troubled Waters.

When I was loved by you I knew who I was

When I was loved by you the sun shone daily

And I could feel the warmth on my face

And there was a seductive security in your firm embrace.

When I was loved by you I could rest a while

When I was loved by you I could close my eyes

And hear your gentle breath through my restless slumber

In my turbid life you were my shelter and human anchor.

Now I am lost at sea, tossed and torn on turbulent tides

And you have left me for the love of another

Eyes wide open and sleep eludes me now.

Whose pillow will support my weary head

As I sail away from the safe shelter of your love

I stow the anchor slowly as the windlass grinds to a halt.

This was written for d’Verse where Bjorn challenged us to write an Italian sonnet. I have no idea if this lives up to what I understood of the form but I did give it a go. The image was from Wikimedia and labeled for reuse.

carl_bille_-_et_skib_pc3a5_et_stormfuldt_hav

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.