I Am Glad

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I Am Glad

They are barely there
the people in the before-
work crowds

Sometimes I catch impressions
of their smudged
and
jostling shapes
amidst the rush and shove,
the hooting,
the we-need-to-get there
quickly

For a second I might glimpse the
almost-faces of so many,
then it is all a jumble in the
push-and-pull of
traffic lights, subway swallowing,
cars and buses, pavement
rushing,
swearing drivers
and road crossings

Those are the days I just want to sit
on a warm park bench
munch on sugary doughnuts
hold hands with someone and say,
‘’I am glad I have you.’’     

              Andrew Pender-Smith

 

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what has touched me

fish

what has touched me

 

a blue butterfly

balancing upon a new leaf

resting briefly there

 

singing in unison

dawn birds welcome the sun

forage in a tree

 

fish splash and circle

break the sun’s filtering rays

love this morning’s time

 

an old beetle sits

in silent contemplation

a little Bhudda

 

the soil shifts slightly

an earthworm is barely here

then down and gone again

 

velvet buttons swim

they are tadpoles exploring

loving the algae

                                                                                                     

a dragonfly’s wings

catch and shout the day’s light

disperse it for free

 

I have sat watching

slow to move and quick to see

what has touched me

        ©  Andrew Pender-Smith

I composed this lyric a few weeks ago. Anyone looking at it carefully, and I hope you do, will see that it is comprised of eight separate haiku designed to link through, to create a lyric. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Will You Come Back?

Will You Come Back (2)

                                                      Will You Come Back?

’Out of something new, harrowing death may come, unnervingly swift and more disturbingly silent than its concealing breeze.’’ Craig Carden

‘’If your mother never told you to stop and listen when the birds sing out a warning, you’d best do so now.’’ Craig Carden

                                                                       *

His dark pupils were dilated and his body was tense with excitement. Her quick movements agitated him, and he was becoming increasingly eager to get to her. Hard-muscled and taut, he was watching her as she stood semi-naked in front of a brightly lit mirror while she brushed her glossy auburn hair. His legs were stretched to the limit, and his breathing quickened. He moaned twice while rubbing his face against the bedroom wall.

      Though she was in a room in an apartment building across the road, he could see her clearly. His eyesight was excellent and his green eyes now had a brighter hue as he watched and moaned, deeper this time. All the while he continued pressing against the wall, rubbing first the left side of his face against it, and then the right. How he longed to be out of this place, to be free to get close to her. He would be on her in a second. 

*

The above is an extract from the newly published novelette ‘Will You Come Back?’ by Andrew Pender-Smith. The book blurb and the book can be found by clicking on this link:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07D6VV9PK

 

What Do You Think Of That?

BAT 3

These two poems ‘I’ and ‘I Am A?’ are the last in this series of one or two children’s poems in a picture. More may follow later this year. As per usual, anyone who wishes to use them, such as in a poetry speaking festival or theme programme, is most welcome to do so. 

With good wishes,

Andrew Pender-Smith

 

 

 

 

BIG in the Big Top

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Dropping Down and Becoming Excited

Linda the potato and Sylvester the carrot were clinging tightly to Big Bruce the blue balloon’s thick, blue hair as they dropped through the star-filled night. There wasn’t so much as a breath of wind and Big Bruce could no longer float. They were going down, down, down. The three friends were becoming more and more excited because they were heading towards a brightly coloured circus tent. Lots of happy music and clapping was coming from the huge tent. It was made up of so many colours that Linda the potato was sure it was almost impossible to count them all.

“We’re going to land on top of the tent,” Big Bruce called out. “Just where the pointy bit sticks up.”

“That’s right at the middle of the very top,” said Sylvester the carrot, as he pushed some of his long purple hair away from his face so he could see better.

“No. No we’re not going to land on top,” said Linda the potato. She was bending over the side of Big Bruce while clinging on tightly as they came closer to the ginormous tent. Her blue eyes were wide behind her pink-framed glasses as she tried to work out where they would land. “There’s a hole close to the top of the tent and I think we’re going right through,” she said.

“Whoopee! This is cool,” Sylvester the carrot called out, and he clapped his long-fingered purple hands in excitement. “We’re going to land in the middle of the circus.”

Copyright: Andrew Pender-Smith

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07CCJMPPZ

‘Big in the Big Top’ is the fourth and final story in the ‘Be Brave’ series involving Big Bruce the blue balloon, Linda the potato who loves singing and everything pink, and Sylvester the carrot with long purple hair who lies to dance. You may find the series on Amazon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spinning Away

red moon

Spinning Away


The sky cracked open

and I spun away

with whirling lights in my head.


The great bird beneath me

opened its wings

and flapped from

one fantastic place to another.


Moons sang and suns

danced in one wild, weird place,

while delicate frost touched trees

of rainbow hues in another.


The black bird opened its orange beak

and sang us onwards

until we came to a frozen lake.

Silver children skated its

myriad-coloured surface

and butterflies of sparkling ice sang:

‘’Isn’t this nice.

Isn’t this nice.’’


We journeyed on past planets

of indescribable blue

and shot up a waterfall

that roared and rushed into

valleys vast and mysteriously deep.


We came to a full, red moon

that was spinning and jigging to its own

private tune.

It smiled at the black bird and

waved at me before floating away

over a long, green stream

of ribboning bubbles and delicate spray.


Finally, the air turned wonderfully warm

while a billion waltzing stars

catapulted in exotic, endless display.


Then, down, down we planed

in a golden moment that

jetted us over a gleaming sea.

‘’Home again. Home again,’’

the black bird sang with me.


I was now on soft beach sand.

I turned around once and the bird

was gone, flying on to I know not where.

I lay down on the fine, fine sand and

held onto memory after mad, marvellous memory

as one wild moon after another

looked down and winked at me.


© Andrew Pender-Smith