Haunted

I wrote this haiku for Free Verse Revolution last Halloween and it’s one of my favourites. Then I recently came across this beautiful image on Facebook and I had a light bulb moment.

This is the result in all its tingly glory, are you looking forward to Halloween?

 

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Copyright © JRFC October 2018
The Mush claims no credit for the image featured in this post

Friends… Not Friend

Time moves on

People change while

Opinions fray

What we were

What we had

No more

 

Can’t be what we want

You say different

I think different

Interests and ideals

Don’t stay the same

They can’t

 

Friends… Not friend

Simple lives

No complications

No more, no less

A friendly handshake

And memories of what was

 

It is what it is

Nothing to lose

Nothing to gain

No shame

Just ‘See you later’

And ‘All the best’

 

Copyright © JRFC October 2019
Image from Pixabay

My Special Guest tonight is…

Lord Byron and She Walks in Beauty

Simply known as Lord Byron, AKA George Gordon Byron and born in January 1788; he was an English poet, peer, and politician who became a revolutionary in the Greek War of Independence.

He was considered one of the leading figures of the Romantic Movement and is regarded as one of the greatest English poets, still remaining widely read and influential.

Our Lord Byron was also a bit of a scoundrel. He was described as being flamboyant, notorious and a bit of a celebrity in his era both for his success as a Romantic poet and for his aristocratic excesses. He had financial issues, sex scandals with both women and men and there were rumours of a little incest on the side.

It was said of Lord Byron that he was “mad, bad, and dangerous to know”.

Go Georgie!!

This poem, I Love. It really is a beautiful piece. And regardless of his escapades or lack of dignity, depending on your point of view, for me this really speaks from the heart to the heart.

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

 

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

 

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

End of Days

All his life he’s watched the clock

A count down to the end of days

Obsessed by his own mortality

When a normal life was to be had

 

As a child he grew up with dread in mind

A war not real but no less threatening

Thoughts of rockets and poisoned clouds

Of living through a slow irradiated death

 

As a teen, his first message delivered

He felt the reaper watching

Told on a bus ride home

That a fellow teen had fallen

 

Followed by a neighbour

A Grandparent

All in quick succession

Death was real

 

Now he lives a wasted life

Still looking over his shoulder

His troubled heart blackened

Shrivelled by doubt and fear

 

And lingering in the shadows

In the corner of his eye

There but not quite in sight

Death in all his glory!

 

Copyright © JRFC October 2019
The Mush claims no credit for the image featured in this
post