Saturday, 31 July 2010

21st Century Living

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

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)

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

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

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