Laugher rides a yellow bicycle through,
Rain-drenched pavements reflecting blue,
Catching each raindrop like a benediction,
And swinging on sunbeams in delightful contradiction
A little poem I brushed up a bit, from my stash of hidden poems 😉 I enjoy personifying qualities, what do you think laughter would look like?
I found this in a box of scraps of paper that I keep, it was printed out, I believe I wrote it in primary, I’m not sure. Also not sure if it was just a random thought stream or a concrete idea, but I thought it’s pretty cool. Somewhat ridiculous. It’s all the same. 😉
If I had a world of my own, there would be no unicorns. The sun would be smaller than a wonderful star and everyone would fly on the backs of swallows. The caretakers name would be Gary and he would walk slowly through the dark blue Street singing Scottish songs, and the whole world would be Irish. The corner store would sell lollipops in a rainbow whirl and the children would stare longingly as their nurses shepherd them along on the other side of the street. the nurses would b dressed in bright pink, the children would be dressed in marbled grey and purple with grey ties and socks, and green shoes. Gary would be dressed in overalls and cary ad broom and a bucket of sops.
Everyday new flowers will bloom, and no flower will ever die until the caretaker pulls them out. Gary is fond of the flowers and only pulls out the rude ones when he has to, so the flowers are everywhere, over banisters and awnings and sidewalls and roofs and some just cascade out of thin air. if you stand still for long enough, flowers grow in your hair, and twine themselves lovingly around your neck.
In the sweet sunrise, amethysts fall from the sky, so we would wear cotton wool on their heads to catch the precious jewels. Then at night we heat them up with red fire and cook the fish that we have caught on them and then, as we lay around the fire, we devour the soft, tender, juicy fish. The next morning the amethysts will be a pale chalky pink and we pick them up and lay them under the nest of the green dawn bird. She feeds on them and when she lays her eggs they are made of transparent pink purple crystal.
During the day the men wander down through the streets to the fresh sparkling sea with their nets dragging behind them. They go to catch the fish for the night time meal. when they have caught three fat ones each, they drag the nets back o the shoe and loll on the warm rocks till the whale of the sunset rises in the deep.
The women also flock down to the sea, with their garments of purple ad red and green and blue to cleanse them in the sand. The children have all escaped from their nursemaids, and have thrown off their ties. They are a raggletaggle bunch, flowers in their hair and lollipops in their hands, but none of them have ever looked happier. Gary is keeping watch, and keeping the glassy sand clear.
Then all, except Gary, will swim in the sea, till the last fish is caught, singing the exultant hunting song triumphant with bold red flags.
Yes, it’s not perfect, I feel the need to completely rework it, but I’ve left it mostly how it was when I first wrote it. The tense does switch dramatically , but who cares? Do you? I don’t! Not today anyway, mostly because it’s raining! 😂😁
So here’s something! I also write a blog in conjunction with the Age of Fishes Museum called What A Fish Thinks. I’m writing as a fish called Augustus who is pompous, opionated, and very outspoken, but secretly lovely under all that 😉 He can even get a little poetical sometimes, like me 😂 It’s lots of fun to write and I’m sure you’d enjoy reading it 😁 So go check it out!
I have lived in The River for my whole life. I have swum against current and with it. I have sheltered beneath tree roots as water from the sky has pelted the surface water of the river churning i…
Source: What a River is.
Excuse me? Yes hello. One ticket to Mars please?
Where the air is black and the clouds do not tease,
Beckoning lightening into the trees.
First or second class? Well I’ll take The Shooting Star,
And, first class, why not? I’ve never travelled this far,
Beyond the black purple planet, oh how bizarre!
Yes I know sir, that people do this every day,
But they’re not me, I’ve never been, so how can you say,
That is is an everyday experience, pray?
Of course I’ve been around the moon, but could it be the same?
As different as white and red! Uhhuh, I see, just a different name.
Well I must say, that’s a shame.
Still, I have to tell you, I’m dizzy as a kid with new space-boots,
I shan’t repress a squeal as The Star takes off and toots!
What? No toots? Well then, as off it shoots!
Glinting gold and being swallowed in the flat black screen of sky,
Into a dark future where it feels like a star could never die,
And I don’t care what you say! I will look out the window and sigh.
I’m off to the skies, goodbye! What? Oh yes sir, I’m sure I will,
You too! Oh, you won’t? You’ll always be here still?
But do you never want to star trek? Do you never yearn for a thrill?
You mean to say you’ve never flown?! Not even around the sun?
I mean to say, well really. Are you sure you don’t want to come?
You could take the short trip, a quick and easy run.
You would have your breath snatched by the sights,
You be dizzy and long for more flights,
You’d tumble and crumble and soar to the hights!
Are you sure? You really don’t want to? I guess I’ll see you when I get back.
Second door to the right? And yes, I’ve got my pack.
Nice to meet you, what’s your name? Well, goodbye Jack.
Over the last few days I’ve been having fun with narrative poems, they are fast paced and fun, but I do find them a bit exhausting. However they are fulfilling as well in a strange way! 😊 (Also, the date today has a lot of sixes in it which is pretty cool! 😄)