The gun at noon

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With precision and aplomb,
The ceremony’s begun
And the soldier marches quick
Around the gun.
Dressed in military red
With his shako on his head,
He steps around the cannon
To his post.

Then with solemnity polite
He lights the fuse and sets alight
The shot that marks the noon
On Guernsey Isle.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

Please read the following link for more information on this ceremony.
via Daily Prompt: Ceremony

Daily Prompt: New dawn

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I stand by the road
Watching the sun rise:
Dissipating the early morning fog
Which has hung like a blur
Across the landscape.
The frost freezes my toes and fingers
And my breath, a smoky dragon breath
Hangs in the morning air.

First there was nothing
Not a hand before my face
Could be seen in the dark whiteness;
As though the world was lost to me.

Even the sounds were muffled.

But then comes a glimmer
Turning grey to yellow
So that cloudiness
Thins into suffused brightness.
And then with one intense burst of sunlight,
The world throws off its murky past.
And all that seemed lost is found.
The birds trill their morning greetings.
And the road ahead emerges,
A winding, uncertain track
Reaching into the distance.
But now I know which way to travel.
I start out, gladly, full of hope.

 

I wrote this poem as a metaphor. It is about emerging from depression. It is possible to feel lost, as though every person, thing and place we know has changed and disappeared from our lives; as though we are cut off and shrouded from the world and can find no future. That is the dark night in the fog.  However,  gradually, oh so gradually light emerges; we begin to see  a way forward and no matter how uncertain  it is, it is so important to recognise the way and take the chance. For there is always a way forward, no matter how far we have sunk into ourselves.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

 

via Daily Prompt: Disappear

Daily Prompt: Skewed

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Seeing things askew
Creates different points of view
Bringing insights new.

I wonder how many of us are stuck in our ways; only seeing the world through the common point of view, which suits ourselves. Taking a ‘skewed’ perspective can be positive. It makes for a new look at the world as we know it and we can begin to discover things we weren’t aware were there. Have you ever looked at something and suggested to a child, “Look at that,” while seeing something which is obvious to us, only to discover that the child only noticed the insect in the grass or the dog at a person’s feet?. Is the child’s vision a skewed vision? Is it  any less valid than our own?  Are our skills of observation so blinkered, that we forget to look further than the obvious?

Words and photo copyright Englepip©

via Daily Prompt: Skewed

Daily Prompt: Bubble

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Air-filled sac blowing in the wind;
Something from almost nothing;
Soap and water bringing rainbow delight.
Magical bubble, fighting the air
Shapeless trying to find globular.
Cause of laughter and joy
A giggle-maker, encouraging the chase
And a huge urge to destroy
To burst the bubble and stand back
In triumph, waiting for the next.
Essence of floating transparency
Dreams in the air floating skyward
Distractor from reality which reawakens
Our childhood innocence and wonder.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

via Daily Prompt: Bubble

Jane Austen

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Dear Jane unbeknownst
A mentor across the years
Textbook how its done.

 

No one could deny that Jane Austen showed how to write a Victorian novel; something that would appeal to the bored middle class women with time on their hands and a longing for a romance. Testament to her success we are still making films based on her books and they are regarded as ‘must’ studies.

This is a photo of Jane’s statue in Basingstoke, which was her nearest town in her early years when her father was rector at the village of Steventon.

Photo and words copyright Englepip©

 

via Daily Prompt: Mentor

Daily Prompt: River

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Welling up from nowhere, fluid freshness
Snaking its way through the grass
Squelching underfoot and seeping
Through the stitching of my boots.

Clear, sweet liquid; fountain of life
Forming rivulets between the tussocks
And carrying tiny particles as it flows
Always downward; mind of its own.

Whispering, chattering, bubbling
With life, love, laughter
Skipping  over pebbles and
Forcing crevices anew.

Water; slaking thirsts of plants
And animals alike: little rivers
Of refreshment joined by others
And swelling the ranks as it flows.

Widening, the trickle grows
Splashing over boulders and hiding
Fish within its eddies. Under-currents.
Swirling and twirling with coolness.

And suddenly down the steep slope
Falling a sweet cascade of sparkling light
And sound of rushing gurgles
Crashing down a precipice of stone.

And ever onwards always flowing along
The lowest path; rushing from mountain
To valley and slowing to sluggishness
As it meanders to the sea.

Water more precious than gold
Life saver of all; transparent and clear
Yet combining every colour of the rainbow
Promise of life from heaven to earth.

Words and photo copyright Englepip ©

via Daily Prompt: Rivulet