“On This Day” Repost – Baggage

Seems that 31 October 2014 was a good day for writing – 3 posts came up in my FB feed today.  Of the 3, I decided I liked this one best.  If you’re interested, the original post can be found here.

Baggage

People think of baggage,
as something that is bad,
to be discarded soon as,
the opportunity is had.

But baggage can be useful,
for storing things you need,
to grow and learn and change from,
old life lessons you should heed.

New baggage is the hardest,
it’s lines are sharp and cruel,
painful corners on the cases,
where you’ve been played a fool.

Old baggage can be comfortable
as it fits like second skin,
especially on the corners,
where it’s been broken in.

Recognise your baggage,
whichever style it be,
you paid for all it’s excess weight,
you know nothing comes for free.

Understand the reason that you packed it,
with all the tales it tells,
save what you deem as valuable,
and leave the rest on the carousel.

© ceenoa

Spring has Sprung

early Spring Daffodils (6)
Spring Daffodils

Oh, Spring has sprung,
the sun does shine,
but I’m stuck inside,
and doing time.

I’ve got “the bug”,
in throat and head,
and backache’s forced me
out of bed.

I long to sit out in the sun,
looking at it’s not enough,
but I know that if I move,
I’ll stir up this hacking cough.

This too shall pass,
and it will be,
that soon you’ll spend,
some time with me!

Oh, Spring has sprung,
she shines so bright,
clear blue day skies,
crisp, sparkled nights.

Rhythm of a Rhyme

I haven’t written much,
in such a long, long time,
I am not sure that I remember,
how to craft a rhyme.

Is it the rhythm of the words,
that lulls your brain to sleep,
that allows the nonesense that I write,
to not cause you to weep?

It’s like a swaying dance,
a dangle and a dip,
then a twirl around the floor,
being careful not to slip.

The pattern starts to form,
and words slowly start to flow,
it doesn’t have to make much sense,
as by now you surely know.

It’s the music that’s not played,
that lingers in the soul,
words implied, not spoken,
a simple, easy goal.

Tonight I listened to the rhythm,
I danced a little bit,
it’s no great piece of literature,
but a least I didn’t sit,

this
one
out.

© ceenoa

Not the C F Lullaby

Dear Bloggy-friend Lily, I promised you a lullaby, and I had composed a cracker of one driving to work on Tuesday, but as usual I had forgotten it by the time I was anywhere I could write it down.  All I remember now was that I was going to call it “The C F Lullaby”.  The C F was optional as to what it might signify, there were a couple of thoughts running through my head, and doubtless through yours also – please feel free to assign them at your leisure.

Anyway, the C F Lullaby has been lost to the swervy pathways of my verse-riddled brain, and this is what I came up with tonight.  It is nowhere as elegant as the first that I thought of – (I can safely say that as no-one other than me actually knows what I thought first, and all I can remember now is the feel of it – a bit clever, a bit neat, a bit soporific) – but I offer it in good faith, and great wishes that it may induce a state of  boredom, which will lead to sleep, if you read it enough times!

Hush painful body, please don’t make me cry,
I don’t have the energy, and you know that’s not a lie.
Please just let me lay here and try to go to sleep,
you know I’m over counting all the bloody sheep.

Hush aching body, relax here on the bed,
forget about the worries filling up my head.
Ignore my restless legs with an agenda of their own,
all I want to do now is find the sleep zone.

Hush stupid body, you make me feel so mad,
for all the things I cannot do, since I lost the life I had.
I’ve only got one purpose now, to sleep the night away,
so I can wake up with some energy to face another day.

Hush sleepy body, I am very thankful that,
we made it through the day somehow, and had this little chat.
So this same time tomorrow, when its time to sleep,
don’t make me sing this song again before unconsciousness I meet.

The Button

It’s little things that push,
the buttons that say “don’t”,
you always think you’ll know,
but you really ever won’t.
There’s just the hiss of vacuum,
as the air goes rushing out,
when the button touches circuits,
that say “now it’s time to shout”.
And after it’s all over,
and the button has popped back,
you’ll wonder what just happened,
as you angst upon the rack.

© ceenoa

P.S.  I am absolutely fine, this is not me writing about how I feel just now (although I do admit to it sometimes happening to me).  No, this is just how my rhyme-brain works sometimes!   I was just peacefully playing a game of Solitaire on the computer and this demanded to be written.  And, so I did.  I don’t want to push the button!

If you went down to the woods today

If you went down to the woods today,
did you walk in sunshine or stand in the shadow?
If you went down to the woods today,
did you dance in the leaves or recline in the wallow?
If you went down to the woods today,
  did you walk on the wide or step on the narrow?
If you went down to the woods today,
will you go back again tomorrow?

© ceenoa

Autumn Leaves (2)

Bunny Leavings

IMG_20170416_170532The little fluffy bunnies,
have now all skipped away,
and left behind their leavings,
their eggs, on Easter Day.

I cannot understand it,
how bunnies can lay eggs,
especially with shells that shine,
in colours: blue, green, gold and red.

And when you crack them open,
instead of yellow yoke,
they are all sadly empty,
is this some kind of joke?

But still I’ll eat these empty eggs
I can’t let them go to waste
’cause even if they’re hollow
I love the chocolate taste.

© ceenoa

“On This Day” Repost – The Ginger Jar

Facebook has one good feature, (don’t get me started on how many BAD features it has), in that it gives you the “blast from the past” in it’s “On This Day” feature.  I enjoy seeing what I was posting years ago, and today this little poem caught my eye and I found myself thinking “that’s not too shabby”.

So, here’s a little something I posted on 21 March 2014.

The Ginger Jar

It wasn’t where I left it,
I’d looked on every shelf,
“I would swear, I left it there”,
I muttered to myself.

It wasn’t in the cupboard,
I only found a sock,
it wasn’t in the garden
buried underneath the rocks.

I looked under the table,
but I couldn’t see it there,
I even took the cushions off
each and every chair.

“Where could you be?”, I said to me
– it didn’t answer back,
and just “because”, I had a look
inside the old spice rack.

It was nestled at the bottom
of the musty ginger jar,
I tipped it out, then dropped it,
but it didn’t roll too far.

I picked it up and held it,
and told it what I thought,
that I’d be lost without it,
and my days be without worth.

I twisted it and pushed it,
put it back where it belonged,
for a day without some humour
is a day that is too long.

© Ceenoa