Cottage in three

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“Summer fun in so many cottages, it’s getting to a point of annoying really! ” Gun Roswell

Cottage in three

Red, yellow, any other colour, or maybe even painted black
The choices for living, really do not lack
Going around and around, never once looking back
As one, after the other, is so much better, than the last
But, for only one week at the time
Spending, my vacation, nearly, on a dime
Even the weather, is ever so fine


And I surely have no complaints, of all these cottages, oh so divine
Juggling amongst these places, some near, some far
Luckily my rucksack is not weighing, so need for a car
Summer still well spent, even if it wasn’t exactly like I had dreamt
But the experience given me so much more
I can go back to the daily grind without immediately being bored
After all, adventure is part of human nature, with or without fear
And this year, I certainly got plenty for the rest of the year

Tulips

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tulips

Tulips, gently swaying, in the warm spring sun
Their colour of the brightest red, indicating fun
Counting down from a multitude to one
Spring time is here: everyone has won!

Train Tracks

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Train Tracks

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

The finger taps
Someone, playing the sax
The birds along side, their wings flap
A gentleman, trying to nap
This is no place to relax
Just join this rhythmic parallax
Enjoy the beat to the max
For on this trip, no one pays the tax

Clickety-clack
On the train tracks

Piled Up

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Piled Up

Piled up, for future consumption
Possibly, in a fiery combustion
Or at least, it was the assumption
The other option
To this odd concoction:
If you follow my suggestion
Maybe build a house instead?

Berries

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Berries

Juicy and sweet
Its taste a treat
Mix it in a tea or soup
Maybe into your mouth just scoop
The seasonal red berries in the bush
Plenty of them, no need to push
Just make your pick
And soon enough, your fingers you’ll lick

Tree Tops

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Tree Tops

Where blue and green meet
In a rhythmic windy beat
Where spring’s growth is incomplete
And the weather still in a loss of heat

Just take a seat
Admire the treat
The dance of the trees
In this seasonal breeze

Slow Boat

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Slow Boat

Over the nightly waters
A few daring trotters
Have set sail to the land of promise
Looking for that ultimate bonus

A peaceful resting place
Where life still stays
Where nothing ever changes
Only surrounded, with familiar faces

The land of utopia
A proverbial cornucopia
The final destination
With one united nation

Horizon

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Horizon

Far away in the nightly horizon
Long before the moon’s arising
Where meeting, of the blue waters and skies
Here is, where the secret lies

Rose

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Posted in Simply Poetry/Daily Photo

“Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads”
Marianne Moore

Rose

Standing tall
Never fall
A single red rose
In a proud pose
Petals shiny and red
With a promise to never shed
Come shine or rain
The rose will stay
Proud, red and tall
And never, ever fall

Friends of Mine

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Posted in Simply Poetry

“Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light”
Helen Keller

Friends of Mine

Please, be kind
Always, rewind
For these are all
Friends of mine

They were hard to find
Some, even declined
Some, were left behind
Some of them, combined

But when in a grind
I just had to remind
And here they all arrived
These, friends of mine