Blue blue moon

Haibun Monday 8-28-23: Super Blue Moon

hello all tonight we are talking about the super blue moon @ #dversepoets pub. i always wished on the blue moon to have be able to sleep out in the forest as a child. If only

Blue, blue moon #haibun.

The smells, and sounds of sleeping out under a full moon, I wish. Come accompanied with the smell of the pine forest in which I played as a child. Days with siblings playing Showaddywaddy playing on the transistor radio up loud. Parents unaware I was out sneaking back before dawn, I wish. Always got caught trying to find my way out. But did sleep under a seaside pier one August bank holiday on a trip to the coast when I could there to late in the evening to find a hotel room.

Pine forest night time.

Own Quietness treasured,

With full moons embrace.

Bottled.

Poetics: Bottled Poetry

hi all not all bottle contain misery most do some don’t.

Here is one of my poems about addiction to alcohol written way back. it is not about me but based on a family member. https://pyscopoet.home.blog/?p=1989.

Message in a bottle.

Here I sit at life’s ending.
If I could bottle a message,
And toss it into my past,
What would I tell my younger self?

Leave of the beer you numpty!
You have seen what it does.

Getting yourself an education,
Does not just come from collage,
The university of life is tougher,
Live life and learn at the same time.

Love yourself not the bottle,
You have seen what it does.

Do not bottle it, if opportunity knocks,
We do not all get,
 opportunities to chase,
Empathy matters keep it in your heart.

Live life to the full,
You will see what it does.

© 22/08/2023 rog leach

pines #acroustic #quadrille

Quadrille #181: Are You Pining for Poems?

#dversepoetspub, #dejackson.

For many years now I have been working on a novel. based on the diaries of three main characters as the aids virus decimates the vampire population. one of the main characters ends up living in a serries of geodesic domes on the moon with a group of scientists.

poetry is one of my distractions. so I have added some to the journal entries over the years. this one will be added to the diary of Professor Gilbert (first name, no family names allowed where he lives). maybe one I will stop procrastinating and finish he thing.

pines.
#acroustc, #quadrille.

Pining for childhood forest home, after dome confinement, 
Instigates loneliness within breeding group, no love lost
Neurotic behaviour follows, sudden realisation of loss,   
Escape from the Moon Sanctuary certain death,
Stupor engulfs my breaking heart, suicide not an option.
  
Pining instigates neurotic escape stupor.

© 21/08/2023 rog leach

Enclave covenant.

MTB: Convince us with rhetorical devices

Thanks Bjorn for a challenging prompt about rhetorical devices here at MTB #dversepoetspub.

I had stated a poem yesterday for one of the spoken word groups I go to (word at the wharf) based on the next meetings subject of fall. and felt it could do with a bit of rhetoric.

Enclave covenant!
#wordatthewharf, #dversepoetspub.

Welcome, welcome, welcome,
To the old cool school enclave,
Where breathing is wasted,
 On the living,
Cannon fodder taught,
 Nationalism’s xenophobia,
Only to fall, fall, fall,
 Under another’s heel.

When there’s war, there’s war,
Even within a stagnating constitution.
The sweetest thunder of guns lives,
Only to kill bill’s will
Americans own guns, 
Guns taking American lives, 
Spend the lives of the poor,
 Spend the poor’s lives for???
To fall, fall, fall under another’s heel,
War what for? War what for?
To save the sulphuric,
 Enclave covenant of old.

What goes around comes around!

Will the conclave fall, fall, fall?
To Cheering, chuckling and sniggering,
Will the shunned poor rise, rise, rise?
To become the new school enclave?
Only to fall, fall, fall under another’s heel.

Only to come full circle back into an enclave covenant.
Welcome, welcome, welcome.


© 17/08/2023 rog leach

Goodbye Hobgoblin!

Poetics: August Transitions

Back at the end of last year after only five years ( two of which were in the covid restrictions) of sharing my written words as spoken words, I decided to kill of my Alta ego. A character I had created to give me the confidence to get up at open mics and spoken word events. I even found myself sharing during covid restriction when I was not at work sharing over video links with the #dversepoetspub.

Goodbye hobgoblin!

Going out with a bang was his plan,
But now he is oh so quiet.

Here lays the hobgoblin poet,
@ Glade valentine church yard,
My life now blank and peaceful,
Killed watching rainbows and missiles,
Which touched earth with beauty and destruction,
Indifferent to the suffering.
As war rages around him.

The Hobgoblin poet,
Without a bang he went out,
Died voice unheard.

But his written words,
Will be eternal,
Ready for future generations.
Who have learnt to get along.
Leaving war to the history books.
No going out with a bang required.

© 09/11/2022 rog leach #word@thewharf.
© 22/11/2022 rog leach #the guild.

As you can see this was written at in 2022. I thought it would fit with Merrill's transition prompt for her August prompt at  #dversepoetspub.