Some lanterns

A lantern is a light and airy Japanese poem that follows a syllabic pattern as follows:

Line 1: one syllable (noun)
Line 2: two syllables (describing noun)
Line 3: three syllables (describing noun)
Line 4: four syllables (describing noun)
Line 5: one syllable (another word for the noun in line one)

They may be written in the shape of a Japanese lantern.
(I don’t follow the form strictly in every case)

Electric

wire
inside
brightening
illuminated
bulb

~

Hope

tiny
bubbles
in breezes
repeat again
child

~

life
routine
happiness
contemplation
home

~

Blink

eyes
childlike
teenager
long term adult
I’s

~

Changes

dawn
it’s gone
dissapeared
to another
noon

~

Japanese taste

Room
opens
minimal
unfamiliar
tea

Some Beeches

A Beech – a form of poetry created by poet Beecher Smith.

It is a 5 line poem with the syllables of each line corresponding to the number of the
letter of the alphabet.

B= 2 so your first line must have 2 syllables
E= 5 therefore the next two lines have 5 syllables
E= (5 again)
C= 3 so three syllables
H= 8th letter, so the last line has 8 syllables.

The first and fifth lines must rhyme. The middle three lines must also rhyme.
The title of the poem can convey further meaning.

These are my attempts at this form –

In the hands of friendship

I saw
through sails of your boat
you kept us afloat,
and I note
how once more we stepped safe ashore.

~

Hiaa-aiahh!

Credit,
where credit is due.
I now honour you,
Kung Fu.
I ‘Glasshopper’, as you said it.

~

GLove

Our love,
soars a wild hawk,
a smiley in chalk,
kindred talk,
becomes a pair, the other glove.

~

Sonnoffa

A Beech,
not easy I know
to get the word flow,
goes to show
syllables are son of a beeitch.

~

Acknowledgement

Greetings,
a hand shaken treat,
waves across a street,
feel complete
in those chance encounters, meetings.

~

Poetry,
it has a twin pen
and knows it not when
writes open,
and peer behind paper to see.

I come in peace

Polar Bear, ‘I Come in Peace.’

Stuart Brown describes Norbert Rosing’s striking images of a
wild polar bear coming upon tethered sled dogs in the wilds of
Canada’s Hudson Bay.

The photographer was sure that he was going to see the end of his dogs
when the polar bear wandered in.

The Polar Bear returned every night that week to play with the dogs.

May you always have love to share,
health to spare, and friends that care.

–and maybe a really cool polar bear–

Merry Christmas everyone,

Matt

A present

..

The ninth reindeer

Amongst winter lines

In the dawn canvas

cold pressed back on boots,
they drifted
where no-one else did;
in one semi-silence of morning
each a perfect impression.

Shadows scripted
from certain lined “M”s
to “W”s and unknown alphabets,
the trees spelt woodland signatures,
clear in the long, blue light.

I’ve recognised them often,
but still don’t know
all their elder names.
There’s only the remembered trace
that I follow

to sign in my own
soon to be discovered,
less ancient snow impressions.

Silent fall

The grass is settling,
no need to mow and hoe
when dusk grows longer
than gatherings of leaves,
just to please
aesthetic ideals of winter.

The wind may litter
some dormant backyard,
blow spirals of twigs,
against my weathered door
in flake shadows of night,
populate farside walls,

but morning will come
as untouched snow.

Christmas is getting hot (acrostic)

Too soon Christmas comes,
Utterances of succulent breasts,
Resplendent meaty thighs and stuffing!
Knew if I said “Gobble gobble”
It’d be taken the wrong way.
Underneath the tree I’ll hide,
Yes, I’ll wear green, and pine.

~ A dyslexic, oversexed turkey.

A winter walk

Maybe I’m amazed

Here’s a beautiful fingerstyle arrangement of “Maybe I’m amazed”
played by Adrian Holovaty

by Paul McCartney

It was this big, honest

It was this big, honest

There’s star on top of a tree,
and rabbits look, there be three,
who hop on through the snow
ever towards a fir’s snowy glow.

On they go.

Hop hop, there’s the scene,
imagine prints if you are keen,
catch the drift in all its glory,
then skip back into the story.

Some say they are wise,
while others unfurly criticize
the said rabbits, kings if you please,
and their belief in carrots
the size of Christmas trees.

Breathe – Midge Ure

Beautiful song, sent to me via Bekki via a friend of hers.

I haven’t heard this for a long time, and it’s worth passing on.

On a limb

The thinner branches
can weigh down
this time of a year,
with overnight snow
and all the trappings
of the season.

Expectations
of what will be
collected on a limb,
grown from manageable cub
to Artic polar bear.

Shake the tree,
there’s only snowfall,
and a sense that whatever
you worried over,
was only meant
to give paws and crumble.

Alas, poor Bill

After the book was read,
the last page turned,
well defined voices quietened
in yellowed twilight.
The lamp’s shade turned solid,
“Pull me”, said the off cord
unnoticed earlier.

The last minor characterization
tiptoed downstairs
and got himself a safe drink,
he was parched,
emotionally run-through.

I noticed the day tease
aside my curtain,
hands sweaty,
mind numb with word anaesthetic.

The weekend chapter
resigned,
slipped a foot out
of this unmade bed.

Glancing towards the book,
it was now some thirty pages back.
The main selfish character Hamlet
had turned to Act IV,
he made at last a decision,
he didn’t want to go.

Wish the author was here
to sort out his notable creations.

There’s more than one use for books

Some heavy reading here (by looks of the nearside wonky leg)

Leaning on one foot

Sea, untouchable,
heaves, sighs saline.
Fore finger presses lightly
with surface skin.

Knuckles clasp white
against the reminders
of our distance
at the base of a week.

It matters not,
that the light is fading,
day’s promise is ended,
and tidal nature continues,
time belies my concern
inside each seperate drift.

On my hand is a line,
watermark till we meet.
The sea waits for the moon
to observe its progress,
I wait for you.