Category: Rhyme, Verse & Poetry
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I walked into the valley
A poem from long, long ago … I walked into the valley I reached up to the skies I bubbled over laughing despairingly I cried you saw where I was broken you touched and made me whole for nothing more than everything I offered up my soul © ceenoa
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For Hugh – A Poem about a Cow and a Wedding
I wrote this poem for Hugh, over at Hughs Views and News, after he made a comment on this post. I milked the cow in the morning, on the day that I was wed, a daily chore I deemed worth doing, which made me rise, extra early from my bed. The comforting sound of chewing,…
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I’ve always been a Snapper
I’ve always been a snapper, the point and then the click, but today I have decided to learn what makes my camera tick. I’m a little trepidatious about all the buttons and dials, but life should be for learning, so bring on the “manual” trials. So if there are no pictures to post here on…
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I’m not sure why I did it
I’m not sure why I did it, it was impulsive, this I know, and now I’m in a panic, and I’m sure that’s going to grow. I’m now thinking of the wisdom, about the thing I did, perhaps I should have kept it, rather than the getting rid. The list is getting longer, of things…
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No Holiday Miracle
I was hoping they’d last for much longer, than I really knew that they would, but time has marched onward determined, to be counted the way that it should. So I’m starting to quietly panic, because no miracle has occurred, the days have not ceased to diminish, and work can now not be ignored. And…
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A Dream and a Wish
I had a dream of you last night I heard your voice, I saw your face and it woke again the yearning from it’s quietly slumbering place that desperate sense of needing which years have mercifully worn away the savage grief dispersed through life’s anaesthetising day and even though they carry sorrow I long to…
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Christmas in Tasmania
This poem was prompted by the poem Hugh wrote that I read this morning, got me thinking what signals Christmas to me. Raspberries and Strawberries, picked fresh from the bush, the smell of fresh cut hay, on a summers evening hush. A thunderstorm with lightning, flashing in the dark, the mouth-watering aroma , wafting from…
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Diasappearing Days
I’m supposed to be on holidays to have a little rest, but the weather is atrocious and all I feel is stressed. There’s so much I should be doing to fix this place of mine, but no matter my intentions I just can’t seem to find the time. The grass is growing rapidly, there’s gravel…
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Question 33: How do they do it?
I’m asking how they do it, and where it is it goes? What happens to their body when they become unseen? I’d really like the answer, it would help an awful lot, on days when I can’t remember how to fit into my jeans!
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Question 32: How to speak dishes
I do not understand it, not one little bit, I clean them every evening, and on the sink they sit, yet next time when I notice the sink is piled high with dirty cups and mugs and such, stacked up to the sky. I’m not sure who is using all my cutlery each day or…
Ceenoa 
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