Born out of the moorland heart
you do not notice me. Trickling down your backward slopes, to start you do not notice me. Flowing beneath the path of adolescent feet you do not notice me. Bounding beyond your working week you do not notice me. Through shadowy depths and sparkling heights you do not notice me. Where people play and fly their kites you do not notice me. Around right angle bends, that trouble sends you do not notice me. Meandering past midlife, towards my journeys end you do not notice me. Slowing down now, no longer flete afoot you do not notice me. Bye swan and drake and even boat you do not notice me. I’ve reached my voiced desire at last you do not notice me. On golden sand I retire my past you do not notice me. From source to mouth I am as one you do not notice me. Out to sea where my life doth come you do not notice me. Finally I am gone and you have none you notice me. Dry riverbed, no more fun you notice me. Enlightenment comes all too late you notice me. Resigning yourself to your chosen fate you notice me. Now you care and stop and stare you notice me. Busy life gone, resources scarce you notice me. No drink, no wash, no fish, no dove you notice me. No growth, no dosh, no life, no love you notice me. Oh to start again from the beginning to be with me. Never again shall you neglect our twinning to be with me. One drop of emotion is all that is needed to be with me. Back at the heart where our lifeblood is seeded to be with me. What to do for a second chance to be with me. No end of turns at river dance to be with me. Scratching your head for life’s true meaning to be with me. When all life looks spent, it starts raining you’re with me. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.
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There’s a strange shape at rest on the landscape.
With no clue as to friendship or foe. A huge bulk of a beast in its torso. We approach with great caution, wisely so. He’s snoring away in his slumber. His pot belly at the rise and then fall. We tip toe past this most fearsome of warthogs. Keeping quietly hidden and small. Beyond we look nervously over shoulder. To see if our progress wakes him from sleep. And so start running away to the boundary. When an abrupt snort comes from the deep. For now he’s rolled over more active. Alive at the prospect of lunch. Of a human or two on the menu. And what else could add to his brunch. He paws at the ground with his trotters. Gores down in the Earth with his tusk. Sweat pours from his brow and his midriff. A swine in his prime in full musk. He meanders his way to the fence line. A saunter becomes canter and then run. Before a stall in momentum against stake post. In his charge more sternness than fun. He sniffs hard at the air of his quarry. Stands rigid against territory wall. No hint to his thoughts or his actions. And whether flight is now needed or call. And yet there in his strength is an offer. To come closer and examine this kin. To stand tall along with his power. And share in his great presence and win. For he has not come for the fighting. Not least in the tradition of war. Instead he his here to inspire poet. To join forces with bard as wild boar. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. In the glint of the golden light.
She whispers in the wind. Stationary, still, bobtail twitching. She gives notice of the behind. Hidden along the boundary. Her russet flank of fleece doth flicker. Heralding the rusting of the day. And the onset of night more quicker. She's gentle, she's magic. All senses fully attentive. The hush of twilight falls upon her. As evening time starts to sieve. Mist upon the valley floor. Laps up against the hedges. Ridden steeds stand tall. Shapes become foggy at the edges. A tide of black and white rolls forth. A moo-vement towards the fence. A nurturing, maternal force. Grazing upon the day's pretence. Dew dropped grasses. Bitten, scrunched and crunched. Cud chewed over, thoughts mulled. Painful memories punched. There's a gallop upon the skyline. A whinnying of an equine master. Feathered white wings take flight. As dreams approach ever faster. Darkness seeps in now. Where sunshine once lay. Silence takes hold. Time to sleep, and pray. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2019 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. Take me to your bosom, oh bountiful Mother Earth.
Let me lick upon your nipples, upon hillsides you have birthed. Cradle me in your mountain tops, hold me in luscious ravines. Enthrall me with your peaks and troughs, allow me to sleep in meadows and dream. Embrace me in your valley's cleavage, wrap me in mists of silk. Permit me to drink of your waters, and suckle of your milk. Pull me close into your body, envelope me with your love. Grant me to listen to your heart beat, just a molecule from above. Cuddle me in forests, cover me in grassy plains. Drape me in savannah, keep me from going insane. Warm me in your deserts, caress me on your beach. Touch me ever so softly, with your flora and your beast. Clothe me in your estuaries, serenade me with morning song. Nurture me with field and hedgerow, feed me landscapes to which I long. Sit me upon your plateau, nuzzle me with marsh and steppe. Bounce me upon your tundra, speak to me words I'll never forget. Kiss me with your sunsets, painted vivid upon the sky. Tuck me in at night, all the stars bedecked within your eye. Whisper to me with your wind, sprinkle me with your sand. Be forever next to me, walking with me hand in hand. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2018 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
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