The East Wind’s Breath - Tony Gardner

There's an icy tang to the East Wind's breath

It seems to carry the scent of Death

But I shrug it off for that's known to be

Just an old wives' tale from antiquity

So I trudge on through the cold, cold snow

Trying to keep my mind on which way to go

Just a month ago, such a lovely scene

But tonight all’s white instead of green.

And I hear a howl, from the snow-filled sky

Maybe just the wind, or a wild beast’s cry

But it may be neither, just in my mind

For my limbs are lead, my eyes half-blind

And I’ll have to stop, rest a little while

I’ve no more strength than a new born child

And sleep…..just a minute….or so……………..

Tony Gardner


Image : Pixabay - Printeboek

The Rain Zone - Kathy Figueroa

In the Rain Zone
It can fall for hours
Sometimes just as sprinkles
Often as heavy showers

Water from above
Splashes and splatters
Drums on the roof at night
And, at the window, patters

When you hope that surely
The clouds have been wrung dry
Suddenly a deluge pours
From the mischievous sky

In the Rain Zone
It never seems to stop
Just when you think it’s ended
Down comes another drop…

Kathy Figueroa

"The Rain Zone" was published on April 14, 2016, in The Bancroft Times newspaper.

Rambling - Tony Bradley

If I recall too much, my frenetic young years
all that misguided energy would have me in tears
I used to continue lost causes, support the lame duck,
I couldn't just leave it, and accept my bad luck.

Nowadays, I assess things, prior to any moving
any case for my action requires a good deal of proving
even my gardening time now, keeping it pretty and neat
is dwarfed by my basking, in my favourite seat.

Drove Betty topless, Sunday, to the cliffs, lovely view
I inhaled too much fresh air, as one can do
intoxicated, I got out and walked, no great wrench
but, tragically, the States chappies had moved my bench.

Having trekked, may I say it, with some gusto and style
in my new Bear Grylls boots, for over a mile
I had to sit down, where the seat used to be
get some cake out my rucksack, and a nice mug of tea.

The States not returning my seat seemed a bit lax
I was thinking of sending an angry fax
but I was pleased with several of my earlier decisions
to bring a book, and ample provisions.

The day didn't end well, though, as I trekked back
it started raining, I thought it looked black
when I reached topless Betty, she was absolutely drenched
and my thirst for the outdoor life was sufficiently quenched.

Tony Bradley

The Wind's Words - Tony Gardner

As the wind wraps itself round the house and it winds
and caresses, impresses its will on my mind
Then I fight for my freedom, my own way to choose
as it whispers "Come with me, only then can you lose
All the tightly bound ties, gain your bright strangled dreams
come with me, we'll soar in wild, fanciful streams,
Leave your world that is weary, the troubles and woes
come and be happy where anything goes
Where you never need worry what others may feel
for your own needs and pleasures are all that are real"
The wind's words are tempting, and they waken in me
a deep selfish longing for my soul to fly free
Yet it's warm and it's safe in this cosy old home
so.....I may go tomorrow........but I probably won't.

Tony Gardner

Summer 2012-07-15 - Pat

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in July 2012

Clouds scudding across blackened skies
Bursting to shed Rain, Rain, Rain
April passes May & June
Will sun ever appear again?

Empty beaches. cafes, kiosks
Fields sodden, crops go under
Forecasts tell us over & over
More rain, hail & thunder.

Birds & Plants, Nature confused
Is it Winter, Summer or Spring?
July comes outlook dismal
But we cannot alter a thing.

Maybe in August or September
The sun will shine to stop the rot
And being human, rain forgotten
We’ll all complain we’re much too hot!

Pat

Fog - Hazel Lee

The islands and the bay have gone
and fog is slowly rubbing out
foreshore sights.
Upturned boats and stones
become invisible unknowns
as, bit by bit,
I start to doubt
there ever was a world beyond.

Hazel Lee

The Storm Bear - Ted McMahon

Round doors and windows, like a bear
outside an igloo, storm wind prowls;
disturbs our rest with fearsome growls.
It is at home in icy air,
whereas we turn the heating up,
try to escape the strange unease
that settles on us by degrees
like skin in a cooling tea cup.
We bar our doors against this caller,
unwelcome but persistent; fear
his footfall, ominous and near,
as we tremble and grow smaller.

Ted McMahon

Storm - Ted Huge

Like mad puppets, bird-feeders jig.
The wind, a wild puppet-master,
whips them onward, faster, faster,
with rod and bar of branch and twig.

Flower-pots are tumbled; knocked for six.
The fence I built is standing, still;
and bird-table, by force of will
or two strategically placed bricks,

stays upright like a tall ship’s mast.
I pull my cap down, check around;
make all that matters safe and sound;
secure until the storm has passed.

Ted Huge