Poem 94: More blazing than the sun

The song I heard you singing falls more blazing than the sun.
The woodlark in the coppice calls more blazing than the sun.

It’s little things that seem to joy our peace-filled days and yet
any sullen silence quick-galls more blazing than the sun.

Children frolic on back garden lawns with shrieks of laughter,
and then a bee stings one who bawls more blazing than the sun.

Wings of butterflies, rasps of crickets, hung webs of spiders,
the ordered world of ants, enthrall more blazing than the sun.

The distant haze of blue, line-dancing mountains row on row
makes late afternoons stop and stall more blazing than the sun.

The tiny flower, unnoticed, hidden, nameless, lost, unknown,
outshines the fields of peonies tall, more blazing than the sun.

And Bruce, his song so incomplete without your voice to sing,
entrusts you hear his words, though small, more blazing than the sun.

To hear the poem read click HERE!

Poem 53: Yet still the sun rises

(The poetic form selected for this week is the aubade/ghazal).

The new born baby cried, yet still the sun rises.
The old man slowly died, yet still the sun rises.

First day at school with pencil, paper, books, and lunch;
In tears and petrified, yet still the sun rises.

They called it puppy love; perhaps that’s what it was.
She dreamed of being a bride, yet still the sun rises.

The marriage didn’t work; they drifted far apart.
Divorce was justified, yet still the sun rises.

The pattern of the days, forever monotone,
In dreary waves of tide, yet still the sun rises.

The leaders of our world dropped bombs on each other.
Nothing left………………………… yet still the sun rises.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

1080. Apple tree

Oh what a splendid apple tree! Joan was so proud of it. Every year it produced hundreds of apples. They were the perfect apple, not too sweet and not too sour. Perfect for cooking and perfect for eating raw.

Every year Joan would preserve apple sauce, and make apple pies, and strudel, and everything that required apples. The cider she made in the shed behind her garage; she didn’t want thieves eager for alcohol loitering at her gate. Joan would share her apple produce with the neighbours. But one neighbour was the problem…

Joan’s apple tree grew on the boundary fence.

“How am I meant to get the clothes dry when your apple tree shades my clothes line from the sun?” asked the neighbour. “Chop that wretched tree down.”

Joan got in an arborist to cut some branches off to allow the sun to shine through, but the neighbour was still not happy. “Chop that wretched tree down or I’ll somehow get rid of it myself.”

Joan refused. And then, ever so slowly, the tree died.

1014. One sunny day

It’s very interesting listening to what other people have to say – if only you’d shut up for a minute, Giles… It’s very interesting listening to what other people have to say and if… shut up Giles… if I had a penny for every time someone told me about… Giles if you don’t have anything sensible to say then just shut up. You go on and on and on and nothing makes sense. You rabbit on about sweet nothing and no one’s listening so just shut up. Now, where was I?

That’s right… I was going to tell you about the time… Oh for goodness sake. Not again. Look at that. That’s the third time today that’s happened. Don’t just stand there, Giles, looking like a decoration. Do something about it. It’s the third time today. Some people have no idea about the proper way things should be done. If I had a penny for every time… Giles do something! Do something about it! Oh for goodness sake. I’ve had a gutsful.

I was trying to tell you about… oh my goodness it’s going to rain. It always rains when I’m about to start. It’s like pressing a button, step outside to do the… there! They’re doing it again, shut up Giles, I forgot my umbrella. Be a darling Giles and dash inside and get my umbrella oh for goodness sake, for goodness sake what a mess you’re not listening

624. Driving in translation

© Bruce Goodman 26 June 2015

The sun blazed through Hank’s windscreen (windshield) as he drove his car (auto, automobile, vehicle, motor car, limo, bomb, sedan, etc.) down the motorway (freeway, highway, expressway, main road) to get some petrol (petroleum, gas, gasoline, benzine) from the bowser (petrol pump, gas pump) at the local filling station (fuelling station, garage, gasbar, gas station, petrol pump, petrol bunk, petrol station, service station, servo). The sunbeams were splattered in all directions by the dust particles and blinded his vision. He couldn’t see a thing. He’d meant to clean the car windows that morning, but missed doing so.

He couldn’t squirt water automatically on the window and use the window wipers (blades). He’d meant to refill the water fluid container under the bonnet (hood) that morning, but missed doing so.

There was a cleaning rag in the boot (trunk). There wasn’t a rag in the glovebox (glove compartment, jockey box, cubby-hole). He’d meant to get a cloth that morning but missed doing so.

But there was one thing he didn’t miss: the car coming straight at him.