Once upon a time there was a happy village.It was set in a peaceful valley, far from most big cities. In this village about everybody made chairs.Some made metal modern chairs.Some made chairs of plastic.Some made modern chairs of mixed metal and plastic.Others made only fancy chairs of the most exotic woods. These were of elegant style with curves and intricate carving. Yet others made plain chairs whose simple forms had a grace of a different type.Even primitive looking chairs were made of sticks and logs. About every type chair you could think of was found here.

In anguish she steals to her tent
no time to think, no time to plan
gathers up supplies to travel
she has to run to save her man

Sneaks carefully out of the village
avoiding all the major routes
but, when barely out of sight
absence is announced by shouts

Now fleeing down the mountain ridges
pursuit begun by angry braves
all skilled in tracking and in hunting
prey down to their deaths and graves

In a poem
I place delight
Where rhythm is solemn
And rhymes come
In various forms of music
Pleasant to the pitch
Of a tattered ear.

As it ends
Meter after meter,
So ends the testimony
Made by my silent voice.
Delight is dead
And the soul speaks
No more.

I am not
High Poetry,
not everyone's cup
of tea
I am merely

A poem

My writer
doesn't even like me
very much
I lack rhythm
and my rhyming sucks

but
she runs
right through me
she can't help it
I am
her heart,
bleeding
all over this paper
for you
to pick over

Read me
gently
or devour me
savor
the taste of me
love me
or
hate me

e d t i m
p f e e
o o m s
h r o
S L
u i

"PROLONGED ANTICIPATION"
Margaret Ann Waddicor 29th january 2011.

Prolonged anticipation, not so bad,
in fact perhaps I'm feeling glad
the preparations nearly done
those last minute thoughts can come.

Taking this or was it that,
no I can't take that big hat,
extra sweaters tights and jeans,
yes or no, we ponder dreams.

If we meet at last one day,
the other end of earth they say,
and find our similar designs are good,
in this life's odd old tangled wood.

Connoisseur

I have always found a fragile beauty
in the subtle deformity when it is present
in the fairer sex...
a slight clubfoot, one breast discernibly
smaller than the other, or one blue eye
and the other eye green or brown.
Often on a misty Spring night, having
happened upon such a dainty maiden, I
will let her go, tipping my hat to her shadow
abstaining to sip from that glass whilst instead
savoring another special bouquet
of seasoned claret.

Moment

I open my eyes as the blackness behind my eyelids
becomes illuminated by a bright and piercing light
The planet of flame fills me with warmth and colour
that settles my mind into a calmness of tranquillity

I capture the sounds of birds dancing happily from
branch to branch, singing at the morning's birth
A gentle mandolin wind swirls small wisps of
sand, whisking them to settle on the waves

A second Honeymoon For mature readers only

`

Sing, through the flowing tears,
And laugh though it aches,
ask again for love in rejection's face
into the sun's first brilliant rays

Peer into that song and hear its heart
take along these raindrops' prisms
let them glow in the dark of night
its tune your comfort and companion

Hold your friend deep within your soul,
journey into the promise tomorrow holds,
fear fades with the passing of the storms,
the clouds disperse in the breath of hope.