Beware thistles

The dying thistles blow in the wind
Spreading next year’s crop
Of pain and beauty
Floating on the breeze.
Beautiful at a distance
They provide some
Sustenance for insects and birds,
Until on an urge to reproduce
They send out their
Seemingly innocent progeny,
On wings of fluffy parachutes
To colonise the world
In the same guise.
Then turning their shameless heads
Upwards, like little suns
Of self satisfaction
Too late they realise their
Mistake
And hang their heads
In death and repentance.


Such is misinformation
Difficult to stop
Attractive to look at
Apparently benevolent
But inflicting
Pain that pricks at our heels
And stabs our fingers.
And which misinformation,
Seeds itself in ways
That we cannot anticipate.

Beware thistles.

Poem and Photo Copyright to Englepip©

The Glory of Autumn

River in shadow, twisting through banks ablaze
With the russets and reds, ambers and apricots
Wealth of nature, invested in gold,
Dropping to earth.

Autumn light and low sun reflecting in water
A landscape of stillness and quiet moments before
Winter storms and cold freezing skies strip
The branches bare.

Creation in temperate lands at its
Most magical,
Most colourful,
Most glowing
In glory at its death.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

Wind in the Pines

Oh to be among the pines

And hear the elemental rushing of the wind:

Earth-based waves lashing the forest, crashing and fading 

When the branches sway twigs bruising  twigs,

Like pebbles that grind along the shore as waves retreat through shingle:

Calming, but with a sense of danger.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

A walk in the Mountains

Mountain fog

The cloud creeps down the mountainside 

Belly to the ground, as though sniffing its prey. 

Nothing is sacred; nothing is safe 

From the cold, damp fogginess of its intrusion, 

Penetrating every crack and crevice;

A pervading darkness and dankness. 

The warm air holds its breath, prescient

Of its obliteration, as it capitulates 

To condensation and the first drizzle

Transpires as from the ground

Precipitating a cold and vicious, 

Slapping rain, that soaks to the core. 

For now, the cloud has won, but we shall

Look for the sun and the rainbow to come.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

You Leave me Hanging On

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You leave me hanging on

Waiting for a word of commitment,

Not to be found, 

But encouraged by your smile

And flattering words I am still here. 

You leave me in a limbo 

Between emotional life and death

Feelings once blossoming

Subdued and dying back

With each Autumn day. 

Caught by the power of your scent 

And the addictive intimacy 

Of your touch, I was blinded by 

Your words of love: a sham. 

Now I am held here,

Dangling from your branch

As a dead leaf which turns from green

To brown, until it flutters lifeless

To the ground of your winter. 

 

Photo and words, copyright Englepip©

Love Lost

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Deserted; bereft of your company;

Your love a retreating tide

Or a falling Autumn leaf.

Brittleness

Fills the air and skeletal twigs

Populate my life

Despite the summer sun. 

The tide lays bare the rocks

And sand blows across the empty beach. 

Once we held so much

As one, rolling on the ebb and flow of life. 

But today you do not put your arms 

Around me

And your smile sits on another horizon

Not mine. 

Our ship

Sinks below the horizon

Out of sight forever. 

**************

But always my soul yearns

For you. 

 

Photo and poem copyright Englepip©

 

I miss the Daily Prompt. It got me writing regularly. Thank you to AARDVARK – Alan GraceNZ for providing a forum. I must get my head around it soon. See below.

https://guestdailyposts.wordpress.com/guest-pingbacks/https://guestdailyposts.wordpress.com/guest-pingbacks/

Daily Prompt: The Groyne

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Chord changer of waves

Land to sea  harmoniser

The ocean’s  fret board.

 

This is a rather steely picture of the sea along the Norfolk coast where the groynes extend far into the sea to stop the erosion. It reminded me of a guitar fret board!

 

 

Words and photo copyright Englepip©

via Daily Prompt: Fret

Vehicles

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When your life has fallen to pieces

And you don’t know where to turn

When you seem to have lost the momentum

And can’t tell where to go

When you feel all alone among strangers

And cannot find a friend

You’re like an engine

That needs an overhaul

A bike locked up by its wheel

A bus that’s devoid of passengers

 

Don’t give up, in time you can heal.

 

But reject thoughts that turn you inwards

Care for others before yourself

Move towards the helpless and hapless

Help them find new channels to cope

And soon you’ll be aware and realise

Your own vehicle’s about to restart!

 

There are a lot of people who suffer from clinical depression and believe me I do not dismiss this illness – it is real.  But for most people, short term set-back strikes us all at certain times of our lives and we can feel very depressed. For this, I believe time will heal. However I also believe there is a point when dwelling on our own problems becomes a heavy burden and that by looking beyond ourselves we can make a difference to others and that by helping them we promote  and speed up our own healing too,  so we can restart our own living.

via Daily Prompt: Restart