Morning Frost

This weeks Writing Challenge was to write a Haiku Poem. A Japanese style of poetry traditionally about nature, with a rhythmical syllable pattern of 5 syllables the first line, 7 the second line and 5 the third line (5/7/5).
Here is my first attempt at a Haiku.

Morning Frost


Inert, morning frost
A quartz like crystal glisten
Optical prism

Water still, to ice
Mirror, glass, as solid state
And trapped as opaque

A pale rising mist
From ground to hazy midshift
Air gliding adrift

Sun rendering sky
Gold to pink diluted hue
Light ascending through

Dew, breaks the structure
Ice to translucent water
Molecules falter

morning frost

(Images from Google images)

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fall-autmumn-tree-leaves-autumn-falling-leaf-ad-591610 (2)

In autumn days I am reminded that I love my garden. I remember the summer blossoms that once bristled up to the sun. All vibrant with colours of pinks to blues. Seeing the yield of the pots I had tended.

The season has changed and the garden although tenuously flowered, the colours still remain. Today the grasses are in the path of the sun and there are hues of orange. The pots of cyclamens are still conquering the cold. The lawn is sprinkled with frost and a confused geranium has flowered once again.

Today the garden has reminded me that as the seasons change so does life itself. To empty the struggles of a difficult situation change must come. As must change upon the happy times as we would not know joy if challenges were not cultivated.


Fallen Leaves

A different time will come around
A new happiness will be found
Vibrant colours on the ground
Like the fallen leaves

Summer departed and gone away
Blossoms of colours left till May
Trees green to golden now stay
With the fallen leaves

Autumn is sent to remind us all
A new day will come so stand tall
Like the tree it does not recoil
See the fallen leaves

Connecting to natures beacons
Visualise the changing seasons
Nothing remains with no reasons
Hear the fallen leaves

(Images from Google images)

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I have recently researched my family tree and although a heart-warming experience it is also an emotional roller coaster. Some days I was moved, so happy to find another link in the chain. Other days sitting in my local library I had tears rolling down my cheeks with the utter sadness and abandonment. The story my relatives left behind was this.

I was sat in a public library looking at the computer screen I had rented for an hour and the database was showing me a Boarding document of an 11 year old boy setting sail to Canada from Liverpool in the early 1900s with another 50 or so children as part of the Barnardos Home system.

So what happened to this boy? I will never know as the information is sealed. If the children had descendants the files are for their eyes only, so I at least have the comfort that there must in all calculations be a family of his own somewhere.

I think of him often and I wish that one day I will know the ending to the story. As I think of all the possible scenarios, from the distress and the hope of better days, I pray that he had good memories, had family and found love in perpetuity



I have a plot a section number
I’m searching amongst the stones
I have no familiar signs to seek
Only a note with marked zones

I trudge through the grassy lines
Stone with ornamental structure
Sighting names and dates engraved
On tombs, granite and sculpture

Hand clenching blossoms to surrender
I brought them to lay at your stone
Their stalks weeping under tissuepaper
This is where I thought was your home.

I pass by time and time again
My heart fallen, I stop I cried
I dread I fail I’ll leave in mourning
Please guide me to your side

I turn again a different direction
I feel, I dread most solemnly
That you have no tomb no stone
No name on your plot no masonry

I stand here now looking around
Searching the paths in vain
This paper note is of no lending
The place I’m searching has no name

Too many years already passed
I’ve missed you again on my way
A description of your life remains
A name on a chart you will stay

One name stands out as I pass by
One grave I keep passing and seeing
You’re not the one I’m trying to find
You’re not the one I’ve been seeking

I see you have no one stopping here
No visits no treasures on the ground
So here I leave my fist full of blossoms
To decorate your grave mound

All I ask is that one day
If any loved ones see my name
They in return with good grace
Will give some thought and do the same

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I’m delving back to the thoughts of Vera Britton once again. She quotes a passage from a book she is reading by Olive Schreiner, The Story of an African Farm;

There is an hour which blots out wisdom and is sweet with sweetness of life. It is worth having lived a whole life for that hour”.

She is reflecting on one touching, moving experience with the ups and downs both “bitter and sweet”. I consider that there is not one but many of these experiences that chase the heart, overwhelm the breath and make a million smiles into one with just a touch of the memory.

My first reminiscence of the kind of life experience was as a student nurse in the big city for the first time. For me it was a time to meet like-minded people, the bizarre and spectacular from the circus of life.

Here are a few words that remind me of this time;

Student days
Leaving home
Opportunities abundant

New friends
Making plans
Nothing was redundant

Great style
Grungy looks
501 ripped jeans

Gig Bands
Poly Bar
Music and pub scenes

Style muse
D M shoes
Favourite old suede jacket

Best Friend
Arches Wharf
Trinkets a small packet

Scent oil
Fairy jewels
Metal candelabra

New try
Culture art
Sample the grand opera

Night chats
Nurses home
Whilst the sun light dimming

Train pass
Abbey tracks
Listen to Night Swimming

(Image from Google images)

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Why do opportunities come in two or threes? I have often wonder why this is. For what seems like a very long time nothing changes, nothing is new. We wish for something to change something new like a new job, a companion, a new friend, a social activity, money making ideas, to come to fruition. Then with no telling of how or why opportunities come knocking.

Karma tells us that we receive what we put out into the world, or we emulate what we have become. Our good fortunes come back to us as a reward for our own good deeds.

Personally I like the story of the man who passes by the statue of his favourite Saint everyday on his way to work. He is downtrodden and disheartened at the day ahead. Each morning he stops and looks up at the statue and says “please let me win the lottery, let me have an end to this job, this life, please let me win to receive a better life”.

Years pass and still the man pleads to the statue, “please let me win the lottery this time let me win”. Then one morning after the man has pleaded yet another day, the statue comes to life and looks down at the man and says,

“Buy a Ticket!”

Whenever I hear this story I laugh and say yes, I get it. But did I! No not until recently, I didn’t truly get the story. Taking the first step, yes I understand that bit. But taking the risk and pushing yourself forward to change is not like “buying a ticket”. It is so much more courageous and challenging. The reference to the Sainty statue rather than any other figure is that the message is this, to change, to take that first step that only you can do, alone, with fear and with unpredictable outcomes, is a leap of faith.

(Image from Google images)