Somewhere, there’s hope…

To all friends who are generous enough to follow this blog, THANK YOU.

I have created a few (though nothing like as many as in previous times) poems during 2020, but, being honest, the creative impulse has been subdued, and what I have written is, well, just too dark for now at least. But, awake at 4 a.m. today (the shortest day of the year) these thoughts, this offering, came to mind. As with all my poetry, I don’t lay great claims to it, but…it’s from the heart, and it is my gift for you.

Take care out there, stay safe and well. And here’s to better days ahead, for our world, for us all, in 2021.

Greetings and good fortune. Yours Aye!

Marc

THE PENRALLT EAGLE – photo by MM

A young writer sits at home

The first novel just a glimpse in the mind’s eye

The pen, flourished.

The paper, anticipating

A Jane Austen for today

Ready and waiting.

Elsewhere, a teenager moodily lifts the guitar,

Strums newly acquired chords,

Maps out phrases, tinkers with words

And a new ‘Blue’ emerges

Blowing the critics away.

As scales are lifted from blinkered eyes

Fresh minted, eager new leaders

(they’ve life experience of climate change)

No longer question

No longer deny

And radical policies

Practical actions

Arise.

In a home some place

A 100 year old man

Father, grandfather and much more besides

Breathes out, smiles, gently sighs

Reviewing a long life

Well lived, hard won

And, despite great age,

Not yet done.

In a laboratory far away

A new graduate scientist explores

The microbe kaleidoscoped,

Micro-scoped miracles of life,

Her imagination slides, breaks free

Then, a pause

Before the new formula,

The world beating solution

Is born.

In one country

A child reels and spins a home-made hoop

Around a sand dusted yard.

In another

One young man, cocooned

Navigating his kayaked world,

With snow, ice, cold cracking floes

Seal whirled and polar beared

For both

Life is fun

Though life is hard.

In my dreamed of world

Zealots lay down the gun, the sword

Share faith, philosophy, thought

With believer and non-believer alike

Arguing

Yes

Hating

No

Accepting that seeing life differently

Ought not be seen

As something unacceptable

Untoward.

In a year gone by

We all shared

So much sadness

Such awful pain

Collective madness

Greed, disdain.

Who cared?

Who really cared?

How does one cope?

In a room

Nearby

A sometime poet

Wrote

Somewhere there’s hope

Somewhere

There’s hope…

IN THE PACIFIC, TO BE SPECIFIC…photo by MM