She’s my secondborn
Cherubic smile, big blue eyes
Churlish Elfin charm
Nymph divine hides within her
Magical mystic manner
© Alison Jean Hankinson
This is my contribution for imaginary. My elfin child who has always been able to mix the imaginary world with the real world.
This is her in a film made recently:
We were still waiting
Yellow ribbons fluttering
on a light sea-breeze.
You should have been home
Instead you were shards of war
In Basrah Palace
©Alison Jean Hankinson
Paul Scribbles asked us to write about “the end” for d’verse. I will write one too, but I also wanted to submit this one.
I wrote this last year. I was fortunate in that Dave returned safely on my birthday 2003. He was one of many Lancaster and Cumbria Volunteers (TA) that were sent into Iraq (Basrah Palace) with Queens Lancashire Regiment in 2003 on a compulsory call-out- the British public were generally unaware that this happened. I couldn’t see how he could survive, there were attacks, riots insurrection, IED’s, he was recovering vehicles from dangerous places. I used to pray he wouldn’t die alone. He survived but his colleague Captain Dai Jones wasn’t so lucky. The girls were four, and he missed their first day of school, but at least he came home even though at times he was definitely shards of war. We had an old fashioned lamp-post in our garden and we tied a yellow ribbon round it to demonstrate we wanted him to come home. We still have the ribbon somewhere.
Image of tree from wikimedia
by Ildar Sagdejev
Dec 11 The Grandma
Tinsel on the tree
Smells just like christmas cheer
love this time of year
Dec 12th The Store Manager
Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Come inside and spend your lolly
Make my profits soar.
A continuation with the voices…not sure I can sustain it to 25…I might have to resort to elves and Rudolph…
Bird takes spring steps- sings
Love songs from bare bough of tree
Winter is long gone
The stilted shrill calls her home
To nest in cherry blossom.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
Tanka for Carpe Diem #1091 Sonata in E, Op. 1/3 by Cecilia Maria Barthélemon
Image: Bird amidst the cherry blossom/https://www.flickr.com/photos/freedomiiphotography/8366458291/
https://www.flickr.com/people/53884652@N03
Spring
He saw her across the room and his heart stopped for a subtle second
She was forbidden fruit from the garden of Eden
A thing of beauty and innocence with an overtone of darkness and despair
He knew that his love could make her brightness soar and bring light into her soul.
Summer
Their love flourished under the summer sun,
He brought warmth into her life
There was colour in her speech and
He offered her a freedom and release
That before she had not known.
There were infinite possibilities
An eternity of love that would nourish
And heal from within and banish
The spectres of solitude and silence
He would be her sanctuary.
Autumn came and darkness cast it’s cloak across their days
His light across the room was dimmed by her shadows
Her innocence tarnished by forgotten promises and the broken bonds of love
He knew that his love had enslaved and condemned her to an eternity of pain.
Their love had died with the embers of the sun.
Winter won.
This is for d’verse
Make Music of Those Words–dVerse MTB
Influence of music through Sonata Form. As a trombonist I have always had music close to my heart and soul. I learned through classical genres and one of my favourite forms is sonata form. If you listen to something like Beethoven’s Pathetique it is very clearly written in sonata form. The first movement is the Exposition and contains the themes in their melodic infancy, they grow through major and minors in the second movement or development and in the Recapitulation, the final movement there is a conclusion with developed references relating to the the early themes. I find Sonata form is a good analogy for life, love and pretty much everything. I tried to capture its essence in the poem through the development and then loss of the relationship and use the season to represent the movement of time.
Be humble
Recognise that whilst we walk similar paths we all stumble
Be kind
Recognise that in moments of despair it is the hand that we hold
that makes us blind
To the pain.
Be giving
Recognise that it is our contribution to living
That ultimately counts.
Be brave
Have courage to stand tall and speak truths
and lift up the spirit and soul
of young and old
Leave silent footprints
That others may follow
In their own time and at their own pace
Be mindful
Recognise and respect each moment for what it is
It is your live to be lived
Make it meaningful and worthwhile.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
This is for d’verse Poetics recipes
Alison Jean Hankinson
My tiny treasures
Look at the scar that you created
I wear it for you with love and pride.
I wear it with stoicism
Disfigured permanently for motherhood
We call it an apron
It hangs loose and saggy like an old washed out jumper.
© Alison Jean Hankinson
This was written for the quadrille at d’Verse. Hope it is okay.
Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war
When God closes a window somewhere he opens a door.
I can kill two birds with one stone but if I am too bitter and too full of hate
I will cut off my nose to spite my face.
Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,
But if I take myself too seriously pride is bound to come before a fall
These pearls of wisdom, this sacred prose
Demonstrates and shows
How the old folk prepared the new
Passing their sacred knowledge on to me and you.
Alison Jean Hankinson
Daily Post Prompt
Sacred
Hues of Hankinson 