Beer-tinted glasses.

He was only happy when knocking back the beers at the bar,

His raucous laughter would peal though the open windows of the snug in the pub,

He was everybody’s hero and everybody’s friend and everybody loved him.

 

 

Until he made it home, up the garden path

The key would turn in the lock of the old wooden door.

Behind closed doors through beer-tinted glasses he was everybody’s fiend.

 

 

His temper flared, his anger rising like bile from below his belt

Buckle undone he would wield his weapon and exert his ire

Until the sun rose and the dulcet tones of the dawn chorus could be heard.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson.

 

Meeting at the bar tonight for d’Verse and we were asked to explore the demon drink. This is my offering.

 

Moo Indigo-the ballad of Doris and Flo.

We are the trailer cows

Feel free to have a browse

It’s so fine to have you near.

 

Whenever you are feeling low

Take a breath real slow

And know we are here to cheer.

 

We munch and chew our cud

Wherever we are stood

We have no worries or fear.

 

We like it by the trailer

From here we can see who mailed ya

And our presence brings you here.

 

We like to swish and moo

We’ll always make room for you

Just don’t stand too near our rear.

 

Moove over Duke-love from Doris and Flo…

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is intended to be fun. It was written for d’Verse poetics and inspired by the beautiful and emotive photography by Sharon Knight. This image was entitled Trailer Cows and was from https://sunearthsky.com/

We were given permission to borrow the images.

I liked all the images and would have enjoyed writing about many of them but this one captured my imagination the most. I was taken by the two cows, whom I named Doris and Flo.

 

New Year rises

It was a turbulent week just like the weather. We saw the wolf moon shining bright in the New Year sky and it brought tidal wrath to the coastline. There were forecast to be High tides and they arrived at the same time as storm Eleanor. Around Cumbria and the Furness peninsula storm surge brought debris and made some of the roads impassable.

As we return to work and tried to re-establish the pre-Christmas normalcy in patterns of life and leisure we know with certainty that we are walking forwards into a turbulent future likely to match the week and mayhem of the wonderful wolf moon. Two supermoons this month, I wonder what the next one will bring.

High tide storm rising

Whispers of windswept dreams fly

New Year, wolf moon chides.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse haibun monday.

Whilst I am here this is the wonderful d’Verse anthology that has recently been published and is available to purchase on Amazon.

  1. Chiaroscuro – Darkness and Light, dVerse Anthology, 2017.

This is a collaborative project between the dVerse poets and dVerse team.   Over 100 poets from around the world contributed to this anthology.   We selected not only the best poems but also those poems that take the reader through a journey from the darkest places to the brightest. From the deepest sorrow into happiness and love. From the darkest streets to woods in spring. Come enjoy our journey.

Now available at Amazon North America and Amazon Europe.

Simple things

It was a simple gesture

………………….  As the sun rose the seedling grew

Nosed its way nonchalantly through the weeds.

…………….  Caressed by early summer sun,

Nourished by November rains.

 

With all its might it pushed through the merriment

Of opportunistic pumpkins and weary watermelons

And reached high for the sky,

……….  One leaf at a time,

stretching                sighing               saluting the sun.

 

It was a simple gesture

…………. It spoke of unfaltering love.

………………………… The sunflower smiled

…………   And reminded me that life is enriched

By the simple things.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is for d’Verse meeting at the bar, where we were asked to consider silence. This sunflower was in my garden in NZ, planted as a seed by my husband to cheer me up in  Spring/summer 2014 when I was unable to tend the garden following major surgery. I could see it from the bedroom window.

Crunch

It was pride,

I wore my heart on my sleeve,

shared my hopes and dreams.

 

You brushed them aside

they scattered like confetti

and shattered as you trod on them.

 

One by one, I heard them break

under the crunch

of your negative footfalls.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse quadrille where we were given the word Crunch.

I had a difficult few weeks and took a bit of a battering in a very bizarre job interview. I did speak up for myself(and cried on the way home…) but I do worry that somewhere in this current climate we seem to have lost our values, our compassion and sense of humanity.

The photos are intended to be the opposite- the restoration of the spirit and soul.

Someone had to do it…. Take 5.

Brubeck Blues

Sax to the beat

wilful wistful wily

Drifting down the street

Repeat.

 

Piano vamping

Blues scaling

E flat minor Brubeck stomping

Five four time, once more

Five four time.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

For d’Verse….TAKE 5…..

Image Wikimedia

 

 

 

 

 

Halloween

Puffball potions

Toadstool faeries

Ravens guard the graveyard.

Harbingers of untimely death

 

Old Witch

Wizened

Haglike

Demdike

 

Whispers on the wind

Caustic curses

Widow wastes away.

 

All Hallows Eve

Wakening the spirits of the dead

Old souls rising.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This time of year is a time of remembering youth and stories of old as we head towards Halloween and Bonfire night. This is for d’Verse where we were asked to focus on one thing that this time of year represents to us.

Emily is still in hospital so it is a short visit and I shall do all my reading later in the week, so bear with me.

History- Old Demdike was one of the Pendle Witches she died in custody in 1612 at Lancaster Castle. The other 10 were later hanged. It was a time of great superstition and James 1 was greatly concerned with treason following the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. At Halloween when we were young it was traditional to walk up Pendle Hill in memory of the witches.