Water-lilies.

Lilies fragile and fragrant

Nymphs at the water’s edge

We danced daringly amidst the emerald damselflies

Bathed bashfully beneath the Buckwheat moon

Love smouldered and we stole each other’s hearts

Pleading troths of love and intimacy for eternity.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

Photo own- this month’s Buckwheat Moon. Submitted for Toads Tuesday platform.P1050371

Game Over.

Worthlessness wins

Nauseating numbness

Dreams diminish and die

Silent sorrows surface

Regret rising like a rancid tide.

 

Regret rising like a rancid tide

Silent sorrows surface

Dreams diminish and die

Nauseating numbness

Worthlessness wins.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

A palindrome poem. This was my first attempt at a Palindrome poem the other week. I was at a low ebb, things had been a little complicated. I thought I would submit it for the open link night at d’Verse.

 

Fancy Perfume and Twirling Ribbons

Poems can ring, rise upon sun and moon

or bring momentum to an errant flame.

Maybe it falls face first, mangled too soon

its sound wailing against the sting of rain.

 

Dawn will singe your senses, set them all free

perform song and acrobatic dances

cry out in celebration, yours to see

Rhymes scatter silently like forgotten fancies.

 

The wilderness rings bright with poetic voices

Sublime and reverent sounds echo through the trees

Words of wonderment and great rejoices

Poetic dreams elope on shifting breeze.

Ideas and thoughts float light as a feather

Our words will often weave them lovingly together.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is a shared piece of poetry in response to Jilly’s July Challenge.

Click here to read the details on how you can participate in Jilly’s July Challenge.

I didn’t manage the anagram bit…but I did complete the sonnet that was begun by colourfulpen.

Sorry I didn’t manage the anagram bit.

 

Storm clouds gather over Heysham Head.

 

Against the backdrop of the sea

My love for you rises with the tide

No plain nor perfect place I would rather be

With my time-worn soulmate at my side.

 

Sunset over Lakeland Hills

Windmills as far as the eye can see

Hand in hand we walk the sands

No plain nor perfect place I would rather be.

 

Storm clouds on the horizon

Wind blows strong across the land

Sudden wind chill makes us shiver

Hand in hand we walk the sands.

 

We head for home across the Head

In the Church ruins shelter and hide

Against the backdrop of the sea

My love for you rises with the tide.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

Submitting this for open link night. At d’Verse.

Salford Pals

 

I have spent a considerable amount of time this weekend rebuilding the lives of my paternal Great-grandfather John Henry Mcclenan( McLanaghan) and my Great grandmother- his wife Frances Taylor/Skinner. It is a fascinating story of friendship, war, battles and lives lost, and love rising like a phoenix from the ashes to build what was to become a large and strong family. John Henry and his best friend George Skinner were to fight in the Boer War, George was killed and John Henry injured in the hip and returned to Salford to convalesce. On recovering he went to see George’s wife of 4 months Frances Skinner and over time they fell in love and were married on 14 December 1901.

Frances was 27 by this time but they went on to have 8 children, one of whom was my Grandfather Frank born in 1911(the one on the horse), and although getting on in years John Henry served with the Salford Pals 15th regiment from 1914-18, surviving a number of key battles including the Somme in 1916 and the siege of Thiepval July 1st 1916 and was awarded a number of medals. Frances and John’s fourth child was a daughter Hilda and her Great Grandson Christopher Finney went on to earn the George Cross for bravery in the Iraq war 2003. I think great things came from the broken fragments of John Henry’s Boer war broken-ness. He passed away in 1926 from amongst other things TB in the injured hip. I might not have fully complied with nature- but maybe war counts as the impact of human nature…

Bleak Boer War battle

John Henry lost George Skinner

Frail Fall brought Frances.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

For d”verse our challenge is to write about finding beauty in the broken pieces or imperfection and/or the process of mending the broken pieces.- kintsugi. A “broken” object, cityscape or landscape, or personal experience of mending and embracing imperfections. Kintsugi means “golden rejoining,” and refers to the Zen philosophy of acknowleding flaws, embracing change, and restoring an object with a newfound beauty.

Glasson Dock Revisited.

Glasson dock steeped in sunshine, the echo of the empty space that was the Babagee. Barges and boats and banter of family gatherings shimmers across the water beyond the broken hulls. The old stones of the lockgate still holds the memory of your footsteps.

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

This is for the Quadrille with d’Verse hosted by Grace tonight, Still is the prompt and it is on there somewhere. The image is from Wikimedia and is of the derelict Babagee before it was demolished.

d’Verse quadrille

 

Fear receding….

The transition to seaside life has been a total joy. However dark and difficult the long days of winter were with their obstacles barriers and uncertainties and the fears that we would somehow fail. There was always a small smattering of hope that things would eventually work out for the better. We have been able to rekindle our love for our own culture and connections, track back through pathways and places that were already part of our story and re-establish the significance of our own place in this wonderful landscape.

The move in springtime to Heysham has been a wonderful and welcome move into what promises to be a pleasant phase of our lives. The sea and scenery are endless sources of peace, calm and serenity. The joy to be able to walk and witness this place in all its beauty and glory for just a small part of each day is genuine food for the soul. There is a song by Groove Armada it is such a seaside song, it talks of sand-dunes and salty air and it is just the sentiment of this place, a seaside town resting on its laurels and trying to reinvent itself as the coastal jewel in the crown resting at the foothills of the Lake District. Mountains on the horizon, resplendent in a salmon sunset, windmills stretching out to sea as far as the eye can see,  ancient history carved into the headland and wilderness, wind and wavespray.

Mid tide Glasson Dock

In sprightly spring-time sunshine

Fear and dark thoughts ebb

 

Alison Jean Hankinson

 

This is my late offering for Haibun Monday and is about fear receding.

d”verse Haibun

 

oops just missed the link by 35 minutes…