Winter boogie-woogie

 

Starlings on the rooves

Hip-hop hopping, tip-tap tapping

Snow stomping flappy happy

Getting in the winter mood.

 

Fiery looking foxes putting on their groove

Foxtrotting through the frosty frozen fauna

Racing hastily through the forest

Working on their festive foxy moves

 

Red squirrels with dancing shoes

Snowy soft shoe shimmy shuffle

Acorn tapping troubadours

working the winter wonderland blues.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Getting the groove on for d’Verse...

 

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.

Shades of 50.

It is done, my fiftieth birthday year finally gone

Kicked the ass out of that, had a bit of fun

Moved house and home,

And now it is done.

Heartaches and happiness all in one.

What a year, glad to move on to 51.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

this is a bit cheesy but all I could muster for this week’s Quadrille at d’Verse. I celebrated my fiftieth birthday in hospital and it has been a roller-coaster of a year and I think some of the biggest dips were in the last week, so I was a bit quiet….So tomorrow I start a new day, and a new year… and I will be 51.

I miss my Ellen though and would love to have her home with me. XXXX

What am I?

A nagging doubt

As my footsteps dulcet echo across the darkened dismal cobbles of a dreary street

Dutiful.

 

A whisper of solace

As our lives we share, and you weep and ache with despair

Comforter.

 

A cacophony of cheeriness

As we stride with gusto into growing uncertainty

Supporter.

 

A melancholy melody of metamorphosis

As I struggle to flutter and fly, reaching for the stars in the sky and knowing that I

wore the mask of the chameleon.

 

A rich and colourful cadenza of congeniality

As I reminisce and retreat

Into my own colourless void.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

 

This if for poetics at d’Verse.

The image was labelled for reuse and was in the public domain- wikimedia-

By Nic McPhee from Morris, MN, USA (Corn and sunflower (butterfly is optional)) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Haunted House.

Creaky floors and creaky doors

The haunted house hears me

Creeping along the staircase

Hoping the ghostly ghouls won’t see.

 

Suddenly the silence shatters

Nerves are torn in tiny tatters

A deathly scream is all that matters

I think it is time to flee.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

For d’Verse.….. where creak was the prompt, I had already written two quadrilles today but neither of them fitted the prompt….so this was the result.

Image available in public domain House Cemetry-haunted house- By darksouls1 [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Autumn mists

We had to take Emily to a very early morning television shoot, she was being an extra. It gave us the chance to make the most of Tatton Park and the autumn leaves before the trees are rendered naked by Ophelia.  She became unexpectedly very ill and we rushed home and she was admitted to hospital. I had to come home and leave her there.

She phoned all awry and crying this morning and as I rushed to get to her I looked back towards the sea and saw the most amazing misty haze, and it was the calm before the storm, going into town the River Lune was like a looking glass. They have kept her in again and the wind is billowing and blowing.

Calm before the storm

Sea mists rise and hazy hues

Leaves flutter and fall.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse. Haibun Monday.

 

In peaceful sleep.

With patient love he watched her as she slept

She who had held him close to breast as child

Deep within his chest his aching heart wept.

Whilst she appeared contented in her dreams and smiled

As though her fears and troubles were finally reconciled

For soon the relentless punishing pain would be gone

Yet in his memory-this moment of love would linger on.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for d’Verse where we were asked to write in Chaucerian stanza. First time I have done this.

The final slumber….

I am not sure I got the meter right.

The image is my Grandmother and her eldest son Frank.