Sunday is my favourite day of the week. Poem. Breather.

Breather

aesthticallypleasingplate
Photo Kate Louise (C)

a photo
of your breakfast plate –
post having eaten

all that is left are
traces, crumbs, a crust, a sliver of yolk,
arranged so
that the light through the curtains makes it spark up like a fire
as it rests on the coffee table –

a lazy Sunday –

egg sandwich, nap, channel hopping and a roast dinner towards evening


Want more poetry? Try Here comes the Sun

herecomesthesun3d.jpg

Poem. Sunshine Views.

sky sunny clouds cloudy
Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Sunshine Views

the scenic view
as i walk through
layers upon layers of small happenings

of joggers
a train speeding by
the sparkle of dew on grass
crooked rubbish sacks beside the bins

an empty park
with ghosts of children past

i rejoice in the days that begin when
winter ends

when i wake
and behind the curtains
the sunshine is waiting for me

the grey, miserable days can be forgotten
replaced by hope,
possibilities that don’t look so impossible

showered, and dressed
i walk,
out into the park
where the trees wave at me
and twigs snap underneath my feet

further into wooded areas
it is like i am alone, with a different kind of magic
the hum of the road is almost inaudible

it feels i could walk forever
releasing my worries

in curiosities of nature –
discarded eggs, feathers,
and a pair of mittens
dangling on a low hanging branch from the tree

in the event the person
who lost the pair may return for them

how separate we can become

lost from what we hold dear

relying on a stranger to take notice
and help us find our lost belongings again

K.L


NOTES
The sun was out over the Bank Holiday weekend and, as it goes, suddenly everyone in the country appeared to be a lot happier. I actually wrote this poem a couple of months ago and just added a few details when I edited it a few days ago. I’m not happy with the ending of the poem, but it did leave me stumped. I imagine something will come to me eventually though.


Want more poetry? Try Here comes the Sun

herecomesthesun3d.jpg

How it all began.

I was looking for a picture to pair with this poem, and it begs the question. What does poetry look like? I imagine it might be something different for all us. What kind of visuals do you associate with poetry?

Yes, for me it is the dirty great London underground. Travel, movement, big cities, and people.


my love of poetry began
as i turned sixteen
in the bathroom at college
scribbling
this idea
into threads of lines
a poem?
damn
i hate poetry

i thought that then

yet i pursued poetry
as a detective would a lead
whilst growing into my own skin
reading pages of other poets
through poetry i discovered my identity
and made friends too
experimenting with styles, and topics
what i liked, what others enjoyed
feeling the power of my punctuated thoughts
punching through people’s perspective
of who i was

now do you see
i am a poet –
writing is my superpower.

K.L


Want more poetry? Try Here comes the Sun

herecomesthesun3d.jpg

Here comes the Sun on sale.

I’m selling my chapbook of travel poetry Here comes the Sun on Payhip through November £1.50 for sixty pages of free-verse / prose / haiku & micro-poems. Shares would be appreciated. I’m so proud of this collection of poems. It has had favourable feedback, so I hope if you download Here comes the Sun you will enjoy it too.

https://payhip.com/b/RiB8