d’verse – Page 3 – Hues of Hankinson

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).

The colour of a single moment….

For me, I find that I like to capture a moment. It is like taking a photograph, I want to make it three-dimensional and breathe life into it. It can be any moment, it can be a moment that exists has existed or a created imaginary moment. The moment can be characterised by a sound, an image, a feeling, and the poem grows from that moment.

I also like to play with words, I see it is a challenge. I guess it is like playing music, I enjoy it immensely, making the images and playing with the words and sounds. Tonight the sunset was bright orange. It was truly amazing, this was the moment- it was burnished orange. It became a Haiku because tonight was haibun Monday. I didn’t think I would get home in time to get a photo, but I just caught the last traces of it.

Bright orange sunset

Burnished embers summer sun

Harvest moon leaves fall.

This is for d’Verse Haibun Monday.

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.

Depression-never give up hope.

Destructive tendencies overshadow joy

Empty heart and emotionless void

Piercing silence and perpetual loneliness

Replaces peace and solitude.

Even in our darkest hours we seek the light.

Sustain our strength with firm resolve

Support each other with promises new

In higher spirits soar above the stigma and the shame

Overcome the numbness.

Never give up on tomorrow

©Alison Jean Hankinson

At d’Verse Frank challenged us to create an acrostic, and this is tonight’s offering, I might have another later, because he introduced me to some other styles and I might have a go at one of them.

I took the photos tonight down on the beach, it was a beautiful late summer dusk, I wanted to catch the seagull soaring to represent the spirit and hope at the end of the acrostic, they soar too fast and my hands are not steady enough…but I was happy with the two I managed to capture for here. This is what I do to uplift my spirit.

Love you to Timbuktu and back…

My mind has gone to Timbuktu

I’d like to meet it there

It may be buried amongst some books

In a scholarly “libraire”.

I used to know the names of towns

And fun places by the sea

But now I can’t remember where

Or what I have eaten for my tea.

I think it is still a novelty

To see you sitting here with me

Your face is strangely familiar

Your love and kindness plain to see.

You take my hand with tenderness and press it firm against your face

Somewhere my memory stirs anew and I remember your embrace.

©Alison Jean Hankinson

According to the WHO globally there are about 47 million people who have dementia, with about 9.9 million new cases each year.

This is going to be my contribution to open link night for d’Verse. With love.

Dreams lie lost amid the sands…

Lazy Sunday.

Somewhere between the sea and the sky,

my dreams fly free.

They rise and fall

on the gentle breeze

beyond the heat haze on the horizon.

My spirit with the seagull

soaring and then stalls suddenly,

shattered upon the rocks of reason.

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is my quadrille for d’Verse based on “dream”. The images were from our lazy Sunday afternoon walk yesterday. The sky was endless, the birds were amazing. In the distance you can see the sea windmills, they looked like they were dancing just above the horizon.

Lamentable Dementia.

Morgan Stanley, Epping Forest

Fisher Dogger Bight.

Cream Teas, cottage cheese

What has happened to my sight?

I had a boat the Mary Ellen

She sailed the seven seas

We braved the ocean regularly

We relished every breeze.

I sometimes think I had a wife

Whose name was Rosa May.

I’m not bitter-I enjoyed my life

But my memory has gone away.

Who are you? Why are you here?

Losing my mind is what I fear.

This is for d’Verse open link night, and is dedicated to the people who reside at Rimu Park, Radius residential care home in Whangarei, where I used to take the students to read to the older folk.

Dementia is a cruel disease in so many ways. You have to try to build up the picture of a persons life from fragments of story. I think this is what dad would be like if he ever ended up with dementia. He sailed his boat for as long as he could after he lost his bosun and has now moved on to caravans, but the shipping forecast with its wonderful array of places was always waited for and listened to.