A wide, wooden table is burgeoning with treats,
Stood looking through the window is a girl that never eats
Not through a disorder, or mysterious disease,
But pure and simple poverty, over sick and evil greed
With distended gut that's plain to see, all look; but walk on by,
As their stares become aversion, she begins to cry
Face resting on the window, bare-feet turning in to ice,
A sister stands forgotten, in the cruel class divide
She didn't ask, but doesn't moan - for this simply is her life,
But wish-oh-wish upon a star, she does night after night
Oily rags which drape her bones, are threadbare; non-distinct,
When one fine and kindred gentleman - in pity - takes her in
She feasts upon the delights; as munificent his hand,
Now saved from ethereal, she's a daughter of the land
But what of the forgotten; those suffering this plight?
Well, they too stare through those windows. And barely just survive.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
Saturday, 31 July 2010
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Sixty seconds
I'm on a roll tonight! I'm going to pretend that this one just 'happened' and not that I have sat plugging away for hours to get post 14 on here. Damn superstitions. Consequently, I fear this could be a work-in-progress.
Sixty seconds
If forever lasts only a minute,
How would you use your time?
Would you scream from your lungs of injustice,
Or point out the stars in the sky?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Then a heartbeat's a year too late,
Would you grab every chance - when presented,
Or leave your existence to fate?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Sixty seconds of golden-sand time,
Would you speak with the grace of an Angel,
Or stand by Lucifers side?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Are you sleeping or are you awake?
Do you sing to your child of atrocities,
Or hug them and make them feel safe?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Would you seek to exact an eye?
Are those tears of regret for your choices,
Or representing your saline delight?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Do you think that you'd still chase your dreams?
What if that meant an extension,
Or maybe a total reprieve?
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards (2010)
Sixty seconds
If forever lasts only a minute,
How would you use your time?
Would you scream from your lungs of injustice,
Or point out the stars in the sky?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Then a heartbeat's a year too late,
Would you grab every chance - when presented,
Or leave your existence to fate?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Sixty seconds of golden-sand time,
Would you speak with the grace of an Angel,
Or stand by Lucifers side?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Are you sleeping or are you awake?
Do you sing to your child of atrocities,
Or hug them and make them feel safe?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Would you seek to exact an eye?
Are those tears of regret for your choices,
Or representing your saline delight?
If forever lasts only a minute,
Do you think that you'd still chase your dreams?
What if that meant an extension,
Or maybe a total reprieve?
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards (2010)
Shiver me timbers!
The colour of money shows error-of-ways,
Though dazzling green it spits emerald rage,
A filthy obsession which leads to the grave,
X marks the spot….
Buried is treasure; off Sullivan’s Cove,
Surrounded by pirates and old, rusty bones,
There’s a fight for the map; upon which it shows,
X marks the spot.
Old Long-John himself – stands in felt tricorne hat,
And squints with the eye that’s not hidden by patch,
With a swashing of cutlass he signals attack,
X marks the spot.
Flagon’s sent flying, high into the air,
Monkeys and parrots are screaming despair,
Canons are firing; Sea dogs beware,
X marks the spot.
Letters of Marque lead to walking the plank,
Doubloons, gems and gold in a new pirate hand,
‘Avast ye me hearties’ – old John sails clear of land,
X marked the spot.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
Though dazzling green it spits emerald rage,
A filthy obsession which leads to the grave,
X marks the spot….
Buried is treasure; off Sullivan’s Cove,
Surrounded by pirates and old, rusty bones,
There’s a fight for the map; upon which it shows,
X marks the spot.
Old Long-John himself – stands in felt tricorne hat,
And squints with the eye that’s not hidden by patch,
With a swashing of cutlass he signals attack,
X marks the spot.
Flagon’s sent flying, high into the air,
Monkeys and parrots are screaming despair,
Canons are firing; Sea dogs beware,
X marks the spot.
Letters of Marque lead to walking the plank,
Doubloons, gems and gold in a new pirate hand,
‘Avast ye me hearties’ – old John sails clear of land,
X marked the spot.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
Monday, 26 July 2010
Culture Capital
Now, if you know me, you'll know this is top of my 'inspiring places I must visit' list.
Culture Capital
Dust motes disturbed on the wave of the heat,
Competing with lemon scent ever-so-sweet,
As the glare of the sun cracks the ground which it meets,
In the eye of the Artisan's son
Soft-staccato crickets strike up a beat,
Near the seats in the shade of the parasolled streets,
A relaxing haven; idyllic retreat,
It's the heart of Renaissance's love
Abundance of flora so close within reach,
Vibrates with the bell-chime; in history steeped,
Atmosphere loaded of romance so deep,
Around statues the Angels call home
From the sprinkling stars which tumble in flight,
Against deep-vivid purple in the dead heat of night,
Landing on pillars lit oh-so-bright,
Stands the famed Colosseum of Rome.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
Culture Capital
Dust motes disturbed on the wave of the heat,
Competing with lemon scent ever-so-sweet,
As the glare of the sun cracks the ground which it meets,
In the eye of the Artisan's son
Soft-staccato crickets strike up a beat,
Near the seats in the shade of the parasolled streets,
A relaxing haven; idyllic retreat,
It's the heart of Renaissance's love
Abundance of flora so close within reach,
Vibrates with the bell-chime; in history steeped,
Atmosphere loaded of romance so deep,
Around statues the Angels call home
From the sprinkling stars which tumble in flight,
Against deep-vivid purple in the dead heat of night,
Landing on pillars lit oh-so-bright,
Stands the famed Colosseum of Rome.
(c) Copyright Jane Edwards 2010
Saturday, 10 July 2010
The breeze
Inspiration thanks for this one goes to Denise. Muchos gracios :)
The breeze
Foaming saltwater wavelets deliver to the shore,
A warm and rolling sweet-wind, magically born
She whips against the rock face, spurred on by the spray;
Crescendo's up on to the land to greet the break of day
Though gentle is her warm touch and gathering a pace,
I wave goodbye with sunkissed hand as she coolly twists away
She stokes up dusty shrub land and causes trees to sway;
Acquaints herself with metal birds and flowers just the same
Passengers permitted: Sound, Scent or Taste,
And powder puff seeds from dandelion clocks compete in natures race
When halted at the crossroad, a decision she should make;
To tunnel on in to a gale, or find a resting place.
(c) copyright Jane Edwards 2010
The breeze
Foaming saltwater wavelets deliver to the shore,
A warm and rolling sweet-wind, magically born
She whips against the rock face, spurred on by the spray;
Crescendo's up on to the land to greet the break of day
Though gentle is her warm touch and gathering a pace,
I wave goodbye with sunkissed hand as she coolly twists away
She stokes up dusty shrub land and causes trees to sway;
Acquaints herself with metal birds and flowers just the same
Passengers permitted: Sound, Scent or Taste,
And powder puff seeds from dandelion clocks compete in natures race
When halted at the crossroad, a decision she should make;
To tunnel on in to a gale, or find a resting place.
(c) copyright Jane Edwards 2010
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