A different point of view

REFUGEES – An upside down poem!

They have no need of our help
So do not tell me
These haggard faces could belong to you or me
Should life have dealt a different hand
We need to see them for who they really are
Chancers and scroungers
Layabouts and loungers
With bombs up their sleeves
Cut-throats and thieves
They are not
Welcome here
We should make them
Go back to where they came from
They cannot
Share our food
Share our homes
Share our countries
Instead let us
Build a wall to keep them out
It is not okay to say
These are people just like us
A place should only belong to those who are born there
Do not be so stupid to think that
The world can be looked at another way

(now read from bottom to top)

– Brian Bilston

This poem is taken from You Took the Last Bus Home, a collection of Brian Bilston’s poetry published by Unbound in October 2016
http://www.brianbilston.com

Advertisements

Flower Power, or a wandering mind!

I wandered lonely as a cloud,

but hang on mate, is that allowed?

I’m sure that’s one too many thrills.

We’re talking golden daffodils!

 

A crowd beside a lake, and trees,

all smoking pot and popping e’s;

The waves beside them danced with glee

and drowned the boss’s effigy.

 

A poet, gay, or maybe straight,

whilst passing through the garden gate,

reclined on couch, in pensive mood,

and all his friends thought him most rude.

 

But now his heart o’erflowed with pleasure,

displayed his love and took his measure,

and, as he rose above the crest,

declared those daffodils the best!

 

With more than a little nod towards:

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

 

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Just because #2

Happy Sunday – Especially for non mothers.

I wrote in my earlier post today that “The joys of becoming a Mum must, for most women, be the absolute pinnacle of their life. Something we men cannot even begin to imagine.”

An even harder thing to imagine is the absolute pain and anguish of not being able to have children when your mind and body is telling you that you need to have a baby, you must have a baby, you desperately want to be a Mum.

I cannot even begin to understand how awful that must be and how helpless those ladies must feel.

Then, of course, there are those who choose not to have children, for whatever reason. My daughter is amongst these as she is severely epileptic, and has other health issues. She took the decision, very early on, not to have children.

I wrote the following a few days ago, having met an old friend, a lovely lady who I know would have dearly loved to have had children but, sadly, never did.

 

She would have been the perfect mum, but that was not to be.

She dreamed of babes, and sleepless nights, that she would never see.

She kept alive her forlorn hope for twenty years and more,

but deep down in her heart she knew, she really knew the score!

 

She always was the perfect aunt to many girls and boys.

She lavished them with love and hugs and far too many toys,

but deep down in her heart she knew, it sometimes made her glum.

She really knew that she was meant to be the perfect Mum.

 

Song Lyric Sunday Theme for 06/05/2018 – devil/demon

img_1345-3.jpgHelen is obviously feeling a little demonic this week with her choice of  theme.

My first thought was Devil Woman by Cliff Richard, but that really shows my age and, anyway, I’ve gone off Cliff a bit recently.

Instead I’m giving you a song by a young Swedish singer you have probably never heard of. At the age of 18 she left all stability behind and travelled to London with just a few clothes and a guitar.

“All I wanted was to live a life where I could be me, and be okay with that. I had no need for material possessions, money or even close friends with me on my journey. All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality. I wanted the open road and new beginnings every day.”

Her name is Charlotte Eriksson, and she is “The Glass Child.”  You can read more about her life story, her music, books, and poetry here.

For your pleasure I am offering her song The Devil’s Sin. The lyrics appear on the video

There is plenty to learn about this young lady and I’m quite smitten with her. Perhaps I’m just a man of a certain age who cannot ignore a pretty face, but maybe, just maybe, this is a great talent who deserves all the success she seems to be attaining.

Sunday sayings #34

df5228ae03c590bc5da370d517137406.jpg

Life was oh so simple once, I knew its every whim,

but now it seems we need more rules, it’s getting really grim.

What became of common sense, fair play, and honesty?

We seem to have forgotten just how precious life can be!

 

The youngsters blame the older folk, the oldsters blame the young,

what became of tolerance, we’re all so highly strung?

We seem to analyse each move, and everything we do.

I used to understand my world but now I have no clue!

Parking the mind

I particularly enjoy the poetry of Frank Hubeny, and he often includes a recording of his reading of his original work. He normally includes his own photographs to enhance the overall experience, and they are always a delight.

I wish I had his talent.

Today, he posted Walking to the Botanic Garden, a haibun, which combines prose and haiku. I know it sounds complicated but, believe me, it isn’t. As usual, Frank began, and ended, with his own photographs that perfectly frame the whole experience.  Follow the link, above, to see why I love Frank’s poems.

I commented on today’s haibun as follows:

I don’t park my mind, I just let it wander all by itself. Not only does it seem perfectly capable of wandering during the day, but it also wanders a great deal most nights too, and it is kind to me in that it holds the memories for me to consider later!

That struck me as profound,  and I thought I should record the thought, if only for my own peace of mind!

Carry on Amber

From the Inside Out

Walt's Writings

Writings on Life, Love, Music & Whatever Comes To Mind

Poems and more from Richard Archer

Poetry from Walsall Poetry Society Chairman and Black Country poet Richard Archer since 2011

forresting my cloud

Katy Boyer's Blissbait Art

Hurdles & Girdles

This, that, and then some.

Weekly Prompts

Your second chance to be creative. .

A Cornered Gurl

I am more than breath & bones.

bluebird of bitterness

The opinions expressed are those of the author. You go get your own opinions.

Brandewijn Words

My Liquid Writings

notthrowingstones.today

(but maybe tomorrow)

what sandra thinks

fiction.poetry.art.truth.humor.life

Pick a book, any book

Book reviews for you

Wonderwall

My 360: wonderwalls,theatre, travel, Sheffield, books...

Dread Poets Sobriety

The Inane Ramblings of a Fractured Mind

Veegraphy

Photography || Poetry || Words ❤

Healing Words

Inspirational Bytes of Calm

A Voice from Iran

Storytelling

John David Ray

Into The Mystic

sparksfromacombustiblemind

EMBERS FROM SOMEONE DOGGEDLY TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF IT ALL...

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Tales from the Romulan Neutral Zone

Of the Chief Parts of the Ruling Passion, only this can be truly said: Hate has a reason for everything. But love is unreasonable.

Salt & Coconuts

Adventure - Photography - Travel

When Timber Makes One Still

"Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to the soul" -John Muir

My Life

Blogging about Life

babbitman

occasional creativity in a bloke-shaped package

Time No Matter

Last Stage

Half Baked In Paradise

Searching, settling, sauteeing and spritzing

Mitigating Chaos

Still Trying To Make Sense Of It All