poems – Page 7 – Hues of Hankinson

Let’s be clear on why we’re here.

To love unconditionally

To pass the tests

Of time

To be humble

To walk in awe

Of nature

To be kind to others

To share our wealth

Whatever that may be-

Humour, love, strength, patience

Words of wisdom

To listen carefully.

To be brave

To walk forward into battle

With a steadfast heart

And rising mettle

Knowing that win or lose

We wagered.

To be wise

Keep calm and peaceful

In the storms that rage inside

And know that tomorrow the skies will clear

And beyond the misty gloom

The rainbows will reappear.

Kia Kaha- to be strong

To guard our children fiercely

And cry real tears of sorrow

For all the mothers who have lost their children

And know that every day is long

For someone.

Alison Jean Hankinson

For d’Verse poetics, again written this weekend- I was clearly in need of some chicken soup for the soul. I would hope that this is an optimistic poem and a reminder that we are humble and to be cognisant of the battles we are all fighting underneath the surface.

With love.

Storm clouds gather over Heysham Head.

Against the backdrop of the sea

My love for you rises with the tide

No plain nor perfect place I would rather be

With my time-worn soulmate at my side.

Sunset over Lakeland Hills

Windmills as far as the eye can see

Hand in hand we walk the sands

No plain nor perfect place I would rather be.

Storm clouds on the horizon

Wind blows strong across the land

Sudden wind chill makes us shiver

Hand in hand we walk the sands.

We head for home across the Head

In the Church ruins shelter and hide

Against the backdrop of the sea

My love for you rises with the tide.

Alison Jean Hankinson

Submitting this for open link night. At d’Verse.

Kindness

Fever 104

Death knocking at the door

And she gave the gift of kindness.

Caressed my burning brow

Spoke with soft and soothing tones

Let me know I was not alone.

Alison Jean Hankinson

January 2011 and I was extremely ill and with fever, there was this wonderful nurse who throughout the Saturday night as doctors came and went, cared for me, she put wet flannels on my head, and came every 10 minutes to let me know I was not alone, it was the middle of the night and all my family were gone and her kindness will always stay with me. It was at that point in my life that I think I really understood that the kindness of a friend or stranger is always one of the most bountiful and unexpected gifts.

The photo is from St Ann’s Square in Manchester today, I was struck again by this word. It will always have more power than hatred. A tribute to the nurse that cared for me and the people of Manchester.

The challenge tonight as d’Verse was to write about a gift.

Salford Pals

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I have spent a considerable amount of time this weekend rebuilding the lives of my paternal Great-grandfather John Henry Mcclenan( McLanaghan) and my Great grandmother- his wife Frances Taylor/Skinner. It is a fascinating story of friendship, war, battles and lives lost, and love rising like a phoenix from the ashes to build what was to become a large and strong family. John Henry and his best friend George Skinner were to fight in the Boer War, George was killed and John Henry injured in the hip and returned to Salford to convalesce. On recovering he went to see George’s wife of 4 months Frances Skinner and over time they fell in love and were married on 14 December 1901.

Frances was 27 by this time but they went on to have 8 children, one of whom was my Grandfather Frank born in 1911(the one on the horse), and although getting on in years John Henry served with the Salford Pals 15th regiment from 1914-18, surviving a number of key battles including the Somme in 1916 and the siege of Thiepval July 1st 1916 and was awarded a number of medals. Frances and John’s fourth child was a daughter Hilda and her Great Grandson Christopher Finney went on to earn the George Cross for bravery in the Iraq war 2003. I think great things came from the broken fragments of John Henry’s Boer war broken-ness. He passed away in 1926 from amongst other things TB in the injured hip. I might not have fully complied with nature- but maybe war counts as the impact of human nature…

Bleak Boer War battle

John Henry lost George Skinner

Frail Fall brought Frances.

Alison Jean Hankinson

For d”verse our challenge is to write about finding beauty in the broken pieces or imperfection and/or the process of mending the broken pieces.- kintsugi. A “broken” object, cityscape or landscape, or personal experience of mending and embracing imperfections. Kintsugi means “golden rejoining,” and refers to the Zen philosophy of acknowleding flaws, embracing change, and restoring an object with a newfound beauty.

Sunset Silhouette

The sun goes down across the sound

The sky across the water shimmers

I see your footsteps in the sand

Your fading silhouette gets dimmer

In this moment my dreams abound

For fear of loss recedes and withers

My love for you is strong as hewn

From landscapes framed in moon.

This was really hard, it was for d’Verse and we were challenged to write in a form called Ottava Rima. This was beautiful Morecambe Bay Sands .

Stunned silence

The deafening silence of tragedy

the sound of pain beyond human comprehension

Stunned into silence a soundless

pause perhaps if we remain completely silent

maybe we won’t be noticed and it won’t be real.

Shrill sounds reveal that it is scarily real after all.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse quadrille.

In 2005 I was in London with a group of school students when there was the second bombing, my students who were young and had never experienced anything like that before just wanted to get on their coach and go home immediately which just wasn’t possible, we left the following morning and the bus was eerily silent and remained so until we got beyond Birmingham. Silence is deafening in tragic circumstances. My heart and love to all to all who were touched by the Manchester bombing.

We cherish their footfalls

Geneology

we lived and died here

Names trickle by,

echoes of the past

Stories unfold

Startling revelations

In the stories we shared

Souls and mortal sins bared

We name our children in their honour

They will echo us forever

In their blood and bones.

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for Quadrille with d’Verse.

Quadrille

A student’s lament

Third row back

never back chat

yet nobody knows my name.

I am the classroom ghost

Faceless to most

Silent learner lurking in the shadows.

Alison Jean Hankinson

I am putting this in for the open link night. I wrote this last week and yes it is/was inspired by my day-job…. Foe d’Verse open link

d’Verse

The inspiration actually came from a very lovely student who gave the description “lurking in the shadows” when asked what skulking meant. I sent a postcard home.

The clock never stops

Antique Clock

The clock never stops

tick tock tick tock

He thought it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things

It was only a moment of anger and uttered words of hurt

But now they would always be the last words he said.

Why hadn’t he blurted out he loved her instead.

I wrote this a while back but I am using it for open link night at d’Verse as it has been a moment that continues to haunt me, the idea that we often don’t know what those last words will be or when the last moment will happen and that we have so little control over it all, the clock never stops…

I took the image from flickr Rachael Towne- Antique clock.

They sing for him.

It is the community singing that does it for my Dad every time,

Every rugby and football match those anthems for the common man.

They capture heart and soul, and bridge dreams and memories

And he sings with them, they become one voice,

one song, one breath-taking moment

of shared understanding and surrender,

of solidarity, stoicism and strength.

His heart was broken

In that shared moment he saw it and claimed it.

His grief, his passion, his anger, his will to live

all in the community singing.

They sing for him.

Alison Jean Hankinson

poetics d’Verse

This is for Poetics and the evening is being hosted by Paul Scribbles and the theme was community.

His heart was broken is a play on the words from The Proclaimers song Sunshine on Leith which is the anthem for Hibernian Football club. It has become one of my dad’s favourites even though he is a Turf Moor fan at heart.

Here is a link to a rendition of it:

Hibs 2016