Mourning Dove

Poetry, Day 10: Pleasure, Sonnet, Apostrophe


To know you, to hold you; is a blessing;
Forgo you I shall not, be mine to keep.
And although there are times I am stressing,
you hold me close should I grow tired and weep.

You bring with you the scent of morning dew,
Your dewy droplets rain upon my face.
Washing away my weariness and blues;
Showering me with your love and your grace.

Bequeathed to me your boundless wells of love;
A gift I cannot keep for only me,
But how to awaken this mourning dove,
When her wings remain folded at her feet?

Lift these shrouds so she might fly
you are her wind, her stars and sky.

My Father’s Face

Poetry Day 6: Faces, Found Poetry, Chiasmus

I took a photo of the books on my fire-place and used them to create my ‘found poem’. Needless to say – I struggled to put Gangsta Granny in there 😉 I have emboldened the words I managed to use both in the list of books at the end, and within the poem itself.


A story of lost childhood, shattered sweet shop dreams
Of playground attraction’s unlike what they seem.
With her guardian, and immediate protection long flown
Her soul became a prisoner in a heart carved from stone.
Half empty and pained she cried: ‘Hallow thy-
Jesus name!’ And begged He restore order to her life again.

Be patient, dear child, you mustn’t run before you can walk,
Nor walk before you can run; not all is deathly and undone.
In the hours of the night, feel the fire in your blood,
And when daylight breaks
Should your tender heart ache
Deep within its very chambers; remember the face of your father.

Feel there the very warmth of your stolen Prince, healing you
with timeless tales of truth. With me before you,
Guiding you home, there are no secrets unknown. His love
for you shall always be shown. And so, as a philosophers phoenix
rising like the bright Northern star; Your father’s love will shine upon you,
And all that you are.

Books I used (and didn’t): The Hours of the night, Me Before You, Gangsta Granny, The English Patient, Sweet Shop Dreams, The Story of Childhood, The Life of Jesus, Run Baby Run, Philosophers Stone, Chamber of Secrets, Prisoner of Azkaban, Goblet of Fire, Order of the Phoenix, Half Blood Prince, Deathly Hallow, Attraction (Perfume), Immediate protection (sun cream bottle)

Travelling Heart

Poetry Day 5: Map, Ode, Metaphor

In keeping with the Ode form, I attempted to inject the use of archaic language. Please excuse any errors (and point them out if there are any!) I wanted to add another verse to this before bed – but my housemate is having an extremely loud conversation which is penetrating my creativity levels (and one must eat) : /


Sustaining tender life of mine from deep within
my Mother’s womb; long ere all knowledge of my own existence.
Bearing gifts of renewal; O, a new life to begin.

More than a mere muscle beating; with quickened pace
Your unguarded wishes race to thy heavenly skies
Conveying to it every which place we traverse in time and space.

O, heart – O compass guiding – where to from here?
Must I travel with no sense of home each passing year?