Love in Sonata form.

Spring

He saw her across the room and his heart stopped for a subtle second

She was forbidden fruit from the garden of Eden

A thing of beauty and innocence with an overtone of darkness and despair

He knew that his love could make her brightness soar and bring light into her soul.

Summer

Their love flourished under the summer sun,

He  brought warmth into her life

There was colour in her speech and

He offered her a freedom and release

That before she had not known.

There were infinite possibilities

An eternity of love that would nourish

And heal from within and banish

The spectres of solitude and silence

He would be her sanctuary.

Autumn came and darkness cast it’s cloak across their days

His light across the room was dimmed by her shadows

Her innocence tarnished by forgotten promises and the broken bonds of love

He knew that his love had enslaved and condemned her to an eternity of pain.

Their love had died with the embers of the sun.

Winter won.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’verse

Make Music of Those Words–dVerse MTB

 

Influence of music through Sonata Form. As a trombonist I have always had music close to my heart and soul. I learned through classical genres and one of my favourite forms is sonata form. If you listen to something like Beethoven’s Pathetique it is very clearly written in sonata form. The first movement is the Exposition and contains the themes in their melodic infancy, they grow through major and minors in the second movement or development and in the Recapitulation, the final movement there is a conclusion with developed references relating to the the early themes. I find Sonata form is a good analogy for life, love and pretty much everything. I tried to capture its essence in the poem through the development and then loss of the relationship and use the season to represent the movement of time.

Recipe for a meaningful life

Be humble

Recognise that whilst we walk similar paths we all stumble

Be kind

Recognise that in moments of despair it is the hand that we hold

that makes us blind

To the pain.

Be giving

Recognise that it is our contribution to living

That ultimately counts.

Be brave

Have courage to stand tall and speak truths

and lift up the spirit and soul

of  young and old

Leave silent footprints

That others may follow

In their own time and at their own pace

Be mindful

Recognise and respect each moment for what it is

It is your live to be lived

Make it meaningful and worthwhile.

 

This is for d’verse  Poetics recipes

http://wp.me/p1GTyJ-3Ba

Alison Jean Hankinson

Mother’s Love

13411939_10209544645598467_2234712537344072344_oMy tiny treasures

Look at the scar that you created

I wear it for you with love and pride.

I wear it with stoicism

Disfigured permanently for motherhood

We call it an apron

It hangs loose and saggy like an old washed out jumper.

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

This was written for the quadrille at d’Verse. Hope it is okay.

Quadrille#22

 

Elders and their sacred knowledge.

Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war

When God closes a window somewhere he opens a door.

I can kill two birds with one stone but if I am too bitter and too full of hate

I will cut off my nose to spite my face.

Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,

But if I take myself too seriously pride is bound to come before a fall

These pearls of wisdom, this sacred prose

Demonstrates and shows

How the old folk prepared the new

Passing their sacred knowledge on to me and you.

Alison Jean Hankinson

Daily Post Prompt
Sacred
japanese-women-by-flickr-user-mrhicks46-creative-commons

Christmas Voices continued

alison H 103

This is a continuation from Christmas Voices that I began for d’Verse last week

 

Dec 6 and 7. The rector and his wife

In the beginning

Was the word and the word was

Pray for us sinners…..

 

We gave all we had

There was nothing left to give

God took it all

 

Dec 8th. The Teacher

Christingle service

Carol singing in the snow

Childrens faces glow

 

Dec 9th and 10th The homeless man and the girl from the store.

There was no room at the hostel

His predicament was momentarily magnified

by the similarities of their story on this cold winter night.

 

She offered him her last note

Crisp and clean in the crystal clear light of the moon

He received the yuletide offering with gladness for she had given with love.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

Christmas Voices

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I think this is a bit of trial and error…I wanted to create some kind of advent calendar in “writings”…. so this I will add to, and I am going to say the inspiration was from Gemma, my visits to Rimu Park from d’verse  openlinknight-185. It asked for a poem, but I hope that I can do 24 that will all become one if that makes sense.

Rimu Park is the retirement home and as I visit I often learn new things about both the residents and my own outlook on life. I love Christmas dearly and I think I want to demonstrate through the full piece that it means different things to different people at different points in their lives. Whilst it can be a time of family and of love and sharing it can also be a time of loneliness and grief not just for people loved and lost but also for Christmas’ past.

December 1st. The Optimist

Christmas lights twinkle

Full of festive hopefulness

Heartaches falter fast

 

December 2nd. The Sage

Shadows and sorrows

Embers echo-Christmas past

Silent separation

 

December 3rd. The Giver

Secret Santa gifts

Friendly fun festivities

Given from my heart

 

December 4th. The Abandoned

You left without saying goodbye

My spirit was broken

Mistletoe mocks

 

December 5th. The Charlatan

Love was lacklustre

Was the food mixer the gift

To bring severance

 

Dec 6 and 7. The rector and his wife

In the beginning

Was the word and the word was

Pray for us sinners

 

We gave all we had

There was nothing left to give

God took it all

 

Dec 8th. The Teacher

Christingle service

Carol singing in the snow

Childrens faces glow

 

 

Alison Jean Hankinson