poem

Advent Calendar Haiku #6

Welcome to day 6 of the Haiku Advent Calendar, I hope you have been enjoying my efforts so far.

I’ve been receiving some lovely comments on twitter (@PaulWritesPoems); I have really appreciate the support.

Today’s Haiku is…

Nearby chimneys
wheeze grey in the winter wind;
candlelit reading.

Remember, come back tomorrow for another festive/winter haiku. Thanks again for the support.

Take It Easy

Paul

Advent Calendar Haiku #5

Hey, thanks for coming to read today’s haiku. I can’t believe it’s already five days in. December is speeding past.

The soft cotton snow,
betrays the foxes footsteps;
Christmas lights twinkling.

Please return tomorrow for day six. If you’ve missed any of my Advent Calendar Haikus, they are still available to read on my site.

Take It Easy

Paul

Advent Calendar Haiku #3

Welcome back to my haiku advent calendar. I hope you’re enjoying it so far.

If it’s your first day here, you can catch up on Day 1 & 2 by clicking here; Day 1 or Day 2.

Now for today’s haiku…

The robin chorus
can be heard by the hedgerow;
scents of spruce indoors.

Thanks for taking the time to join me today, have a great day and don’t forget to come back tomorrow for Saturday’s haiku.

Take It Easy

Paul

Feeling

He sits with sadness in his eyes,
mercury-blue and moist,
no light shines on his face,
apart from the moon,
who cups his cheek,
from her perch in the sky,
she understands melancholy,
but he ignores her offer of help,
turning away from her slender illuminating fingers,
instead he pushes the pain down,
burying with the rest of his misery,
he shouldn’t show emotion or cry,
that’s not what men do,
how many times does he need to be told.

He takes a breath,
agitating the mercury with woollen sleeves,
he sweeps away the tears,
then paints a watercolour happiness over his face,
just in time, for his wife has returned to him,
and when she asks how he is,
in reply, with all his strength,
he let’s a tear fall and tells her how he feels.


Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. I am big supporter of men’s mental health and this deals with men being able to open up to their partners.

Take It Easy,

Paul

(image courtesy of Nik Shuliahin on unsplash)

Bobby’s Wake

The pitmen gather around the empty hearse,
standing like Davids around Goliath,
some with roll-up cigs burning,
a glowing tobacco-fuelled pyre for,
another brother lost to history.

The colliery band are gearing up,
it’s good to see them still looking strong,
a shame some of the brass looks dull,
but the sapphire and gold thread of the banner,
is still resplendent in the tender summer drizzle.

Bobby’s family give their thanks to the vicar,
with a handshake and bottle of whisky;
his widow unsteady from grief
– and a brandy she’d drank for his honour and her nerves –
is weightless in the arms of her daughters,
the sorrow they’re carrying is a heavy enough burden.

Some of his friends from the village,
wander around the nearby graves,
hunching over the headstones and fading flowerheads,
making empty apologies they aren’t there more often.


Everyone congregates at the roadside when the band begins,
ready for the march to the pub;
tubas and trumpets blowing out the tune to
‘The Bonny Pit Laddie’
a reminder of the man,
just returned to the earth;
close to the coal he used to dig.


At the pub – we all raise a ‘Percy Special’ in toast,
and the tales and tankards come thick and fast;
like pick-axes on silver-black mine walls,
did only a couple of years ago;
the only hush comes from the opening of the buffet table.


These ageing men who’ve fought the police and government;
legends in their own lifetimes;
know that they’ll be together again soon enough,
wondering if they’ll be the missing face, lying in the dirt;
some have a fleeting sadness on their hard faces,
quickly burnt away by the furnace behind their eyes,
and then songs break out with soft smiles

– this is a celebration.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem.

I really appreciate all your support.

Take It Easy

Paul

Stolen Voices

The worst kind of thief there is,
is the one who steals another’s words
then speaks them silver-lipped
and serpent-tongued
or writes them with crooked finger
and poisoned pen
without appreciating their weight
or realising their value
only seeing inked shapes on paper
not the skill it took in crafting those shapes
so when you’re caught
and our expressions of love,hope,pain & hurt
are reclaimed by us
the ones who have enough courage
to share our story with the world
I hope you are wordless, you are voiceless
a blank piece of paper blowing in the wind.

This poem was written following an issue where a few people were being plagiarised. The last straw was when war poetry was stolen from the pens of others , their name displayed as the original.

This is my feeling towards people who steal the words of others and say they are their own.

Take It Easy

Paul

Mothers & Daughters

Demeter wailed on the autumn’s eve
and all the gods could do
was to plant lavender clouds to soothe her
and comfort her
as the sky filled pink
to match her tear-stained cheeks
the same tears that roared to earth
as the last of the summer rain
Persephone was the last to hold Demeter
her bags already packed to return to Hades
she whispered sweetly and secretly
a skill her husband had taught her well
holding her mother’s slender fingers
she told her to watch for a robin
and when one flew across land below
to feed it with berries the colour of her heart
and the robin will accept graciously
so when Persephone returns she will be strong
and spring & summer will be theirs alone
their green dresses will sparkle with gold
woven by the sun itself
and they will dance as they’ve never danced before.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. Greek Mythology is something quite different for me to work with in terms of conveying a message and I hope I’ve done it justice.

Take It Easy

Paul

(Picture credit: unsplash Faiuan Saari)