The Poetry Marathon

It was only by a sheer coincidence

that I changed my routine

Went for a walk to Eggerslack Woods

And not in the Oak Woods nearby.

I walked for nearly two miles

And then out of boredom, I decided

To walk through a long grassy field.

I saw a sudden movement and stopped.

Then I saw her – the female adder

Reddish brown with black diamonds

On her back shimmering, silvery in the light.

She shrugged her diamonds as she slithered

And stopped looking at me with her beady eyes.

I retreated a few steps and she was gone.

On the way back her image came back to me.

I sat down to have my dinner

And saw the news

I saw a field of dead soldiers

Just like Flanders Field

There were lots of flowers

And yellow and blue flags

Draping them all.

I saw a young woman crying and sobbing

‘I loved you for years

I might as well be dead

I have nothing to live for’

She said in deep anguish.

Four others turned up

And they have taken up arms

And joined the army

They hope to die and join the dead men

That is their intention.

Ukraine has been a peaceful country

Its farmers growing wheat for the world

And sunflowers for oil.

Russia has much to answer for

And yet no one is able to stop this war.

So wasteful of lives – a blur on the landscape.

—

                                                                                Poem no 5

I have a series of paintings in red and black.

Some sixteen of them in all.

Before I did not like the colour black

And rarely used red.

Then I developed bad headaches

They did not leave me day nor night

And I had a real fright.

I started painting in red and black

They all showed people in fearful pain

With buildings burning going in flame

Such fearful sights that I did see

Days and nights in nightmares.

I painted a woman in a pit

With vultures feeding on it.

Then a phoenix arose from the fire

The woman put on a new attire

My headaches left me and I got fit

I am in love with red and black.

My canvasses are full of rivers of blood

With black oozing out like night

I find it such a restful sight.

Red and black has given me a new vision

A deep insight and understanding

To love the archetypal  and old

As they are both pure gold.

—

                                                                                Poem no 5

I have a series of paintings in red and black.

Some sixteen of them in all.

Before I did not like the colour black

And rarely used red.

Then I developed bad headaches

They did not leave me day nor night

And I had a real fright.

I started painting in red and black

They all showed people in fearful pain

With buildings burning going in flame

Such fearful sights that I did see

Days and nights in nightmares.

I painted a woman in a pit

With vultures feeding on it.

Then a phoenix arose from the fire

The woman put on a new attire

My headaches left me and I got fit

I am in love with red and black.

My canvasses are full of rivers of blood

With black oozing out like night

I find it such a restful sight.

Red and black has given me a new vision

A deep insight and understanding

To love the archetypal  and old

As they are both pure gold.

                                                                                Poem no 5

I have a series of paintings in red and black.

Some sixteen of them in all.

Before I did not like the colour black

And rarely used red.

Then I developed bad headaches

They did not leave me day nor night

And I had a real fright.

I started painting in red and black

They all showed people in fearful pain

With buildings burning going in flame

Such fearful sights that I did see

Days and nights in nightmares.

I painted a woman in a pit

With vultures feeding on it.

Then a phoenix arose from the fire

The woman put on a new attire

My headaches left me and I got fit

I am in love with red and black.

My canvasses are full of rivers of blood

With black oozing out like night

I find it such a restful sight.

Red and black has given me a new vision

A deep insight and understanding

To love the archetypal  and old

As they are both pure gold.

—

No. 4

Hockney is the greatest living British Painter

Melvin Bragg is his buddy

They Broth grew up in working class families

In the north of England

Hackney was in Bradford

And Bragg was in Wigton in Cumbria

Hackney’s father restored prams for a living

Hackney carried all his art materials in a pram

and wheeled it to school.

And painted in five classes a week.

He went to America and became famous.

Now he has a big house in Normandy

And also a large Mansion in Bridlington

He wears a cloth cap and looks like a

Country Bumpkin

And is extremely dead

I am not fond of his portraits

Brag’s portrait is not to my taste

But his landscapes are just so beautiful

His stain glass windows in the Windsor Chapel are

Just divine!                                                              —

                                                                                Poem no 5

I have a series of paintings in red and black.

Some sixteen of them in all.

Before I did not like the colour black

And rarely used red.

Then I developed bad headaches

They did not leave me day nor night

And I had a real fright.

I started painting in red and black

They all showed people in fearful pain

With buildings burning going in flame

Such fearful sights that I did see

Days and nights in nightmares.

I painted a woman in a pit

With vultures feeding on it.

Then a phoenix arose from the fire

The woman put on a new attire

My headaches left me and I got fit

I am in love with red and black.

My canvasses are full of rivers of blood

With black oozing out like night

I find it such a restful sight.

Red and black has given me a new vision

A deep insight and understanding

To love the archetypal  and old

As they are both pure gold.

—

                                                                                Poem no 5

I have a series of paintings in red and black.

Some sixteen of them in all.

Before I did not like the colour black

And rarely used red.

Then I developed bad headaches

They did not leave me day nor night

And I had a real fright.

I started painting in red and black

They all showed people in fearful pain

With buildings burning going in flame

Such fearful sights that I did see

Days and nights in nightmares.

I painted a woman in a pit

With vultures feeding on it.

Then a phoenix arose from the fire

The woman put on a new attire

My headaches left me and I got fit

I am in love with red and black.

My canvasses are full of rivers of blood

With black oozing out like night

I find it such a restful sight.

Red and black has given me a new vision

A deep insight and understanding

To love the archetypal  and old

As they are both pure gold.

Kidnapping a Baby

She did not mean to steal that baby you see.

She only wanted to do a little trickery.

She was herself only a child no more than three.

She went and hid herself  in a tree.

Her mother called her and she ran to play.

Danced on a slippery floor and cried

she was wearing her mother’s shoes

And she could have hurt herself or died.

But instead she saw a pram with a baby who cried

She stole him and ran away to play

And they haven’t found the baby or her

Perhaps they are both dancing far away!

My name is Sundar I am hoping to enter 12 poems. It would be lovely when the muse comes in abundance and the poems just flow spontaneously. This is every poet’s dream. Wishing the best of luck to all fellow poets.  Sundar

On my laptop crashing!

A Sonnet

My pen and paper are more powerful
Than my computer – machines break
And give me grief
While pen and paper serve my needs!
I will keep a duplicate of all I create
No matter how long it takes!

Machines sabotage, take your life over
Don’t let them ever be your lord and master
Be innovative, be smart
Write with your pen it is an art
Stay forever hopeful
Enjoy each step of your journey
See where it takes you even faster!
As nothing crashes nothing breaks!!

The Yew Tree

Go and plant a tree
It is our wedding anniversary
I certainly will I said,
I went and bought a Golden Yew
It’s leaves for me
And berries for you!

The Yew is fifty years old
Is always covered in green and gold
It’s berries twinkle in the Sun
Much loved and admired by everyone!
A mistle thrush comes to the Yew Tree
And sings its song for you and me
Each evening so sweetly and so long
Renews our ties each year anew
For you and me and the golden Yew.

Buddha teaches.

Alll is impermanent
Your foolish attachments
Stand in the way of freedom
Why crave for material things
You can take nothing with you
They are hindrances

Instead rejoice in each
Moment of your day
Fill it with love and light
Each morning is a new beginning
Each night for restful dreams
Wake up each morning
With renewed joy in your heart.

A Love Poem

My Love knows no ageing
It is forever bright and Young

My love is nurtured daily
With your tenderness and care

I kiss you and caress you and share
Lovingly my few remaining years

My Krishna, you are all that I hold dear
You are my heart and my soul

For eternity I would sing
And dance with you my forever 💕 love.