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Post by mysticbluebell on Oct 11, 2015 20:58:42 GMT
Here I am back with p2s and I beg your pardon for not being around lately due to having no computer. Thanks for being patient! Lets start anew with Weekly Theme regularly and for the new week it is: The old sailing boat |
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Post by paintedlady on Oct 12, 2015 19:53:58 GMT
The old sailing boat,
beached on the shore,
the rudder is rotten
on the sand were the oars,
lobster pots broken
last years rain in the keel,
the old sailing boat
not a fishermans meal. |
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Post by mysticbluebell on Oct 13, 2015 20:38:04 GMT
What a lovely surprise to see you back painted-lady, you have been missed and your little poem tells why you were missed, it is such a lovely word-painted picture. Thank you!
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Post by doreen23 on Oct 14, 2015 8:07:18 GMT
Lovely Painted Lady Nice to see you here
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Post by doreen23 on Oct 14, 2015 8:15:43 GMT
whThe old sailing boat
My little boy had a sailing boat
When he was very young
We bought it at the sea side
Oh! we did have fun
He took it to the local pond
to watch it sail away
he used to chase around the pond
Each and every day
I have such happy memories
Of a little boy and a boat
Who had so much fun
in the water, making it float
My son and his boat
Are now long gone
but my memories are here
and I must go on
DOREEN
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Post by mysticbluebell on Oct 15, 2015 17:31:18 GMT
A beautiful poem Doreen, so sad though, what more can I say but thank you.
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Post by mysticbluebell on Oct 15, 2015 17:31:47 GMT
The old sailing boat
Like Sleeping Beauty, in one secluded spot it lays
And without a sound, up and down without stop it sways –
An old forgotten sailing boat in a corner of the lake
Close to a rotten bench, where nobody a seat will take.
Washed nearly out is the flourish of a lovely name,
Nothing on this sailing boat looks like in past the same.
While hardly any wanderer is passing by
I think to myself, who has left it alone here – and why?
Somebody though, seems having fight or fun inside,
“Hello” I call; now it’s all quiet, but something’s to hide.
So I walk further, then stop and tip toeing back..
Some dark shadow is almost flying past my track.
Next day I had to visit the boat and its “passengers”
Curious I am there is some hair, some dirt – what messengers?
It seems for hours I sat behind a bush, nothing happened;
Silence increased while dusk arrived and slowly blackened.
Just!, just when I was to walk away, some rustling sound
I saw three long, slim bodies play on sailing boat’s “ground”,
Their voices were telling me, who inhabited the boat
It clearly was the voice of Martens’ hoarse and rough throat.
They had much fun and with a big smile I walked back home
Thinking of the protected life the boat gave to these gnomes.
A sailing boat, dreaming away in life’s evening
‘PALOMA’ - in “her” last spot, left alone - unreasoning.
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