Mirrors

Image Source:

The Theme for our last Open Mic was 'Mirror'. To be honest I forgot to write anything for it, so whilst waiting for the evening to start I dashed off this acrostic (the first letters of each line spell mirror).

The image I have used displays visually the idea I was trying to get across. There are several more excellent images on this theme if you follow this link.

I hope you like the poem.

Mirrors

My face glares back at me
Image of yester-year
Registers in my mind’s eye
Rugged chin, bright eyes
Oh why do mirrors always get it
'rse about face.

John Carré Buchanan
09 March 2015

Benches Galore

Image Source:

In April 2013 I wrote a poem called 'The Third Bench'. The poem described a short but very painful walk I took to a bench on a cliff path near my house. For some it was not easy reading. Two years on and I've been at it again...

This time I have had a year of intensive training, a new approach to pain management (called; avoid doctors and drugs at all costs.) and a huge lump of determination. When I got back I was in agony, the pain has not changed..... but my attitude, well perhaps you should read the poem; I hope you enjoy it.

Benches Galore

I’ve been working out hard
in a pool and the gym.
Has it been worth it -
the effort put in?

A jog on the cliff path
I’d best take a phone,
‘coz if I break down
I’ll be miles from home.

Last time I tried this;
I made the ‘Third Bench’
but things got real ugly,
and I cried like a wench.

I start out slowly
my sticks left at home;
I will need them later
it hurts to the bone.

I grit my teeth
ignore the pain.
Think; ‘I am the master,’
time and again.

I manage the steps,
a bit clumsy, it’s true
they’re steep and uneven
there’s more than a few.

I pass couples, families,
walkers with dogs,
we hop to the sides
a little like frogs.

Then I steam past it,
I pass the ‘Third Bench’
but this time;
this time, my heart gives a clench.

‘coz I’m on the way back
with a leg that’s real sore
and I’ve hardly a care;
I’ve passed benches GALORE.

15 February 2015
John Carré Buchanan

Christmas Morning

Image Source:

Merry Christmas everyone, I thought I would post this short poem inspired by memories of my father throwing my new 'paratrooper Action Man' out of a first floor window, whilst I stood below looking forward to my go;-)

I hope you enjoy the poem and once again; Merry Christmas.

Christmas Morning

Giggles erupt from the huddle.
Excited nudges, toothless smiles.
The air fills with high pitched chatter,
as children talk all at once; no one listening.
Too much fun.

Shiny paper torn asunder, thrust behind.
Fingers break into cardboard boxes
to grasp treasures within.

Hovering in the background,
camera flashing,
parents revel in the joy before them.
A Christmas scene played out
in a thousand living rooms.

It won't be long before little voices everywhere plead;
"Daddy, please can I have a go?
...... IT IS MINE !"

John Carré Buchanan
05 December 2014

Of Happiness

Image Source

Of Happiness

Ebony hair stirs softly on a zephyr.
Laughter dances at the corners of emerald eyes.
Ruby red lips part to reveal a dazzling array
of almost perfect pearl white teeth;
and the world…... brightens.

They lie beside each other on the grass,
naked feet casually raised to the firmament.
Elegant fingers craft a daisy chain
which she places on his head with a giggle,
He holds a buttercup to her chin.

Four twigs tumble to the gabbling brook;
whoops of joy echo in the verdant valley
as feet patter across the bridge.
Eager eyes scan the chuckling water
and an excited young voice calls; ‘I won!’

Hands swing in unison, fingers entwined,
untroubled feet rustle autumnal leaves
as they flash gold, and red and tumble aside.
Two clouds of breath linger on the chill air
melding to one, as they fade.

With eyes closed he basks in the winter sun,
the scent of her perfume when first they met,
the ecstasy on the face of the new mother,
and the smile on her lined face;
as she held his hand and gently slipped away.

John Carré Buchanan
20 May 2012