First Haiku Collection

The joy of writing haiku is something I have only recently discovered. I find it challenging and rather addictive. I hope you will enjoy this small sample of my work along with  the photos that inspired the words.

Embrace the moment,

Sunbeams darting light and free

Will you dance with me?

Waiting for the day

Silver sun and clouds embrace

Then merge into one.

Midnight blue whirlpool

Exploring innermost thoughts,

Imagination.

Wild monochrome trees

Dissolving into charcoal

Reflections and reeds.

Let me embrace your

Golden rays to carry me 

Into a new day.

Sky and sea merging

Into blue infinity,

Unfathomable.

Remnants of the fire

Dissolve into smoky clouds,

Blankets of darkness.

Weather beaten light

Beam through changing tides and night,

Guide me safely home.

Through a snow-tinged breeze

Synchronised feathery reeds

Dance into the night.

The sun is rising

Offering me pink and gold

Shades of acceptance.

© Jill Webb March 2021

November Mist

The past meets the present in this poetry collection, which I have posted to compliment the latest post on my other blog telling the story of how I came to start the fanzine I wrote in the 1980s called Kindred Spirit.

My poetry writing journey started back in 1979 as a result of listening to an album by The Jam called All Mod Cons, then subsequently reading poetry written by a former member of the band - Dave Waller. The full story and much more memorabilia can be found here.

To start off I would like to rewind to 1979. After reading a booklet of Dave Waller's poetry called 'Notes From Hostile Street' a whole new light was shone on the area of poetry for me, which I previously had viewed as a rather dry subject. Reading Dave's work, combined with my love and admiration for Paul Weller's lyrics was what inspired me to start writing poetry of my own. 

The poem below was written after walking home alone one November 5th. Fireworks were exploding in the sky creating clouds of colour. There was something about it I found eerie, atmospheric and inspirational.

The poem later went on to feature in issue one of my fanzine.

The Day The World Turned Blue

I looked to the sky for consolation,

The moon had been replaced

By thousands of coloured lights.

They shone from behind the clouds,

Creating eerie shadows

Which seemed to move nearer

As I quickened my pace.

A blue haze drifted over the tarmac,

Distorted shadows swaying

Like a drunken man in the park,

Pointing insensitive fingers

Towards my trembling body.

The church bells rang out, but time stood still,

Houses in complete darkness,

Enveloped by thick blue smoke,

Assaulting the darkness

Street lights flickered in vain

Until they ceased to illuminate.

I peered around each corner cautiously

No people could be seen, 

No traffic on the roads,

No animals, no movement,

I was complete alone.

Drowning in a sea of thick blue smoke.

I drifted away from creative writing altogether from the late 80s, barring a brief spell in the mid 90s, when I wrote poetry which was published in various anthologies.  

Beyond this there was a gap of 22 years, until November 2018 when I felt compelled to pick up a pen and write once more. From this point on the creative fuse has well and truly been lit and I am back to writing poetry on a regular basis.  I am so thankful! What it has confirmed to me however is that if you are a creative person, that creativity never actually leaves you. 

Sunbeams

Sunbeams dancing

Through golden leaves,

A moment preserved

In my memory,

Reflections of all

That could have been

Are swept away

By the whistling wind.

The Robin

As light as the feathers

On her breast,

She landed by my feet.

Uncertain dark eyes

Sparked a memory

Of the way you could always

Read my mind.

She settled down by

A fluttering leaf

And in that moment I knew,

Although you are no longer

In my life

You still see things

Through my eyes.

November Mist

A watery brush

Glides across the sky,

Hints of pale pink,

The remains of the fire.

Etched shells and pebbles

Roll with the sea,

Echoes of your voice

Turn raindrops to tears.

Diamond encrusted,

Sparkling blue,

Through November mist

I see visions of you.

Confetti Leaves

Through shady woodland

And leafless trees

I see visions

Of rosy cheeks,

Infectious laughter,

Excited shrieks,

Outstretched arms

Grabbing handfuls of leaves,

Scattering them

Like confetti,

Oak, ash, silver birch

And beech,

Float like feathers

In the breeze,

Sing like 

An autumn memory.

Beyond Sunset

Beyond sunset

What remains of the day

Is gently erased

By midnight blue waves.

A golden halo

That burned so bright

Evaporates into

Pink clouds of night.

Sailing into

The twilight dusk

A solitary boat

Pushes ripples out.

Circling birds,

Horizons fade

Until sun rises on

A brand new day.

Guiding Light

Golden halo,

Guiding light,

You are the sun

That once burned bright.

I wish I could

Freeze frame the sky,

Hold back the tide,

The onset of night.

You dissolve behind

A cluster of clouds,

Soft bursts of hope

In smoky grey,

Remembering

The dancing beams

That lit my path

And showed me the way.

Remember Me

Through whispering wind

I am still here,

Don't be afraid

To call my name.

Through November sun

And pale blue skies,

Moods reflected

In rolling tides.

Through floating clouds,

Soar like a bird,

Don't be afraid 

To open your heart.

Secrets scattered

Into the sea

Will return to shore

When our eyes meet.

Many thanks as always for reading. I hope you have enjoyed my poetry. 

© Jill Webb November 2020

Autumn Leaves

This year has for many been a difficult one for so many of us.  I personally have found myself drawing comfort from the beauty of nature as the seasons have changed. It is the one thing that has remained constant through all the uncertainty and misery we are facing as a result of the pandemic. 

All of the poetry in this post has been inspired by the beautiful colours of autumn and I am once again delighted to join forces with my friend and gifted poet Joe Praks, who I know has even more of an appreciation of the gifts Mother Nature bestows upon us than I do.

I hope the verses will add a little sunshine to your day.

Gracefully floating like butterflies

In shades of pink and green,

The autumn leaves are the stars of the show

As they wave goodbye to the trees.

They soar and swirl, drawing patterns

In the misty October air,

Leaving silhouettes of trees,

A mesh of branches so bare.

They gently demand attention

From all who cross their path,

Touching, caressing, they make their mark

On a carpet of dew soaked grass.

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The crushed rose

Lays down her crumpled head

On a blanket of grass so green,

Her sweet heart

Yearns for faraway days

When she danced

In the warm summer breeze.

Through dew soaked curves

She remembers his smile,

Now enshrouded in golden mist,

The stars are waiting

To carry her home

Through the warmth

Of a fuchsia's kiss.

The next three poems are by Joe Praks. If you would like to connect with him on Twitter and read more of his poetry he can be found here or on Instagram here.

Autumnal beauty

Caressing my senses

My soul is wide open

I let love in

Breathing out my worries

Dreaming of your eyes

Your smile

I wish not to wake up

My heart just dances.

Autumnal colours

And dreaming of you

A wee walk

And back to my dream

It's my plan for today

It's all I'm going to do.

Golden autumnal morning

Wearing her colours proudly

True colours of this fall,

I'm walking alone, my deserted street

Dead leaves sounding under my feet,

I'm walking towards my dream as

It's my next goal.

Am I afraid if I'm not to wake up?

Absolutely not at all.

The tide is rolling away from me,

Water slipping through my hands,

Leaving clusters of unturned stones

And footprints in the sand.

Blue sky dissolves into floating clouds,

Words we never got to say

Sail away like an autumn leaf

Carried by a distant wave.

I pull back curtains

Of autumn leaves

To reveal

A shimmering lake,

I jump aboard

A boat of reeds

To take me to

A faraway place

When October shone

Like a pot of gold

And nothing

Obscured my view,

And through the curtains

I watched dawn break

As I held out

My hand to you.

I would like to finish with something special. I first shared the poem below with my Twitter followers in September 2019 and I was delighted when one lady from Philadelphia commented to tell me she had enjoyed reading the poem to the point where it had  brought to mind a song she is particularly fond of. The song is called 'Tell Me A Tale' by the talented Michael Kiwanuka. I immediately listened to the song and I was overwhelmed at what a perfect match it is for my poem. Here is a link on You Tube. It has a lovely laid back, jazzy feel about it. Perfect for relaxing to.

Etchings of Autumn

Through a curtain of leaves

summer waves goodbye

as crayons of autumn

etch patterns in my mind.

Rich September palette,

red gold and green

place the brush in my hand,

help me set the scene.

Soft autumn breeze

inspire creativity,

place the pen in my hand

give my story to me.

© Jill Webb October 2020

Potpourri

Welcome to my latest poetry collection. 

To start on a high note, I was delighted when the poem below was selected as a runner up in a recent poetry competition organised by the over 50s digital community - Rest Less. When I read some of the other wonderful entries I was even more flattered that my poem had been chosen. Here is a link.

The inspiration behind this poem was my beautiful cat Cleopatra. However as a life long cat lover I believe the sentiments apply to all of our feline friends.

Feline

She winds then unwinds

With elegant ease,

Never drops her guard

Even in her sleep.

Her silky ears twitch,

In the blink of an eye,

Sweet sleep forgotten

She snaps into life.

Finely tuned senses,

The edge of attack,

With stealth and grace

She takes higher ground.

Through bristling fur

Her eyes are fixed

On things unseen by

A mere human being.

Within minutes she

Returns casually,

Leaps on my lap

Purring oh so softly,

My time starts now,

A game played by two,

But only she knows

And sets the rules.

I wrote the second poem for my Mum on her birthday. As we both share a love of lavender there was never any question about what the subject of the poem would be.

Lavender Dreams

A soft fragrant cloud

Floats before my eyes,

Painted butterflies dance

In the palm of my hand.

All background noise

Slowly fades into

A sensory field

I tiptoe through.

Lavender dreams

Drenched in purple mist,

Dry petals of bliss

Like a butterfly's kiss.

My earliest memory is of my Dad taking me on his bicycle to see what I now know is the smallest window in England. I think I must have only been around three years old at the time. The window is in an area of Hull's old town and is often mistaken for a slit in the wall. If you would like to know more about the history of the window here is an interesting article. 

I wrote the following poem on Father's Day this year in memory of my Dad.

The Smallest Window In The World

From the back seat of your bicycle

I hung on to your every word

When you told me one of your wonderful tales

About the smallest window in the world.

You carried me to the slit in the wall,

The picture you painted was clear,

I imagined two tiny figures

On the inside peeping at me.

You gave them names and voices,

Described the colour of their clothes,

I soaked up every detail

As I laughed at all their jokes.

And when it was time to go back home,

 I did not want to leave them behind,

As you pedalled the story continued

In my illuminated mind.

Imagination was the greatest gift

You could have ever given to me,

Every time I think of that window

Your laughter echoes through my tears.

I never cease to feel privileged the odd time I have been lucky enough to get up close and personal with one of our feathered friends. I was inspired to write the next poem after one such occasion.

The Flutter

I saw you perched

Beside the leaves,

Your sharp eyes 

Darting nervously. 

I approached you

Slowly, tentatively,

Warm anticipation

Washed over me.

You were close enough

For me to see

Your mottled breast

And hooked brown beak.

Hardly moving a muscle

In my face

I felt privileged

To be in your space.

I slowly extended

A trembling hand,

I must have taken

A step too far.

In the blink of an eye

You took to the sky,

One moment for ever

Engraved in my mind.

And to finish here is a selection of flower inspired poems.

Raindrops

Raindrops, 

Like teardrops,

Tiny mirrors

Of the soul.

Raindrops, 

So refreshing,

Life giving 

Tender rose.

Raindrops, 

Caressing,

Rejuvenating

Love. 

Raindrops,

Dissolving

In the early

Morning sun.

Honeysuckle Parade

Acrobatic hedgerow dancers

Doing cartwheels on the leaves,

Extrovert feathered birds

Spread your wings and fly with me.

When I stare into your spokes

I see enticing fairground wheels,

Calypso beats and pink flamingos,

Exotic carnival of dreams.

The Carnation

Beauty preserved

In a frame of glass, 

Ever present visions

Of memories past.

The night they met,

The touch of his hand,

Spotlights dancing, 

The warmth of his smile.

He presented her

With a single white flower,

It became a symbol

Of who they were.

So many years

Have ebbed and flowed,

Too many pale sunsets

Watched alone. 

Laughter mingles

With lonely tears

But there is one time

Her mind is still,

Through the silky scent

Of a fresh carnation,

She closes her eyes

As he pulls her to him.

© Jill Webb August 2020