RHYMES&REASONS

Observations, Thoughts and Reflections on 21st Century Life

Category: Poetry

PLATOON of POPPIES

“Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.”

On the 11th day of the 11th month 1918 Wilfred’s mother received news that her son had not survived.
He lost his life just six days before the armistice.
 
 
Platoon of Poppies‘ by Rebecca Pells Fine Art
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Mud and a Meeting of Minds 1917

 

Mud.

Thick, cloying, seeping.

Consuming, filthy, blanket

binding you as brothers

in mud laden arms.

Bath.

Soap, water, scrub.

Submerged, aching, wallowing

purging you as brothers

in trenches of white.

Search.

Memories, mind, self.

Trapped, engulfed, besieged

chains you as brothers

in images of hell.

Write.

Poetry, prose, horror.

Dredge, expose, release

links you as brothers

in words of truth.

 

Commemorating the 100th anniversary of the first meeting between Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon at  Craiglockhart War Hospital August 1917

The meeting lead to Owen’s haunting ‘war poems’.  He was born in Oswestry and lived in my home town of Shrewsbury, England.

‘Poppies for Peace’ Rebecca Pells

Hourglass

 

We navigate and tack to catch the crest of self-promised waves

like a piston of dreams forth and back they roll

sacrificed upon the altar of age

til one day we understand

there is no harbour

no anchor

no time.

 Brief encounters

as ships in the night

horizons glimpsed as sun rises

then fades to dusk before we have basked

lay down precious memory, til synapse eclipse

the hourglass turns and grain sifts with the tide once more.

 

‘Time Goes Away’

Details from https://www.artfinder.com/manage/rebeccapells/product/time-goes-away/

Images in Time

Images in time, do you still see

the girl who was lost or the woman flown free?

A gathering lining of rich silver hue

clouds part once more to capture anew

one step at a time reluctant to stay

accept at last that time goes away.

The moment has gone, now do you see

the girl who was lost or the woman flown free?

Yesterday’s Gone

I waited. Two score years then ten.

Boredom reigned as time strode past.

You flirted and waved, your sunlight cast

Till the treadmill called to shackle again.

I carried the promise, I cradled belief

That one morning I would wake

My passion before me there to take.

No longer a dream you were every relief.

And now we dance, the rhythm of life

 Intimate moments yet strangers remain

Master and slave passion’s loss and gain

 As I strive to please frustration is rife.

Just like a moth I’m drawn to the light

Of creation’s promise, each hue I fashion

 I seek the sweet moment of artist’s passion

As I step away to see that all has come right.

‘Yesterday’s Gone’ by Rebecca Pells Fine Art

Transition

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Listen for the voices urging us heave

quieten the whispers of they who leave.

  Those memories which sear recall with care

a wound opened, too sore to bear.

Afraid to forget, moments linger still

tempting and taunting as dreams beyond will.

Nothing to trust but the beckoning haul

of voices and future yet to call.

003‘Chasing Reflections’ by Rebecca Pells Fine Art

https://www.fineartseen.com/product/chasing-reflections/

My Mirror Gently Weeps

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Are you future or laden past,

joy anew or shadow cast?

Reflections glimpsed as midnight creeps

for which my mirror gently weeps?

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My Mirror Gently Weeps’

Oil on canvas 50×50 cms

http://www.rebeccapells.co.uk/

The Bridge

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You wake one morning and sense a change, a slight shifting of the sand,

a murmured whisper, the faintest touch upon your hand.

Was it the waking from a dream or the mourning of a death,

was it joy anew of passion found or the drawing of first breath?

Was it the void of emptiness or vast realm of possibility,

was it the final release or acceptance of futility?

With a backward glance I view the bridge where yesterday I stalled

until the night stepped forth and accepting as it called

I gave surrender as it carried me across.

http://www.rebeccapells.co.uk/

Changing of the Guard

001

I woke this morn and sensed the changing of the guard

Summer’s twilight slipped into autumn’s first dawn.

Reluctant to cross this threshold once more

Au revoir summer’s promise unripened by drought.

And let go the dream sustained by hope

  Release that which can no longer be held.

Fade to autumn, the hue I must reside

And cherish sweet memory with wistful smile.

Painting ‘Antique Roses’ by Rebecca Pells

available from https://www.artfinder.com/product/antique-roses-fa34/

 

Soulmates in Time

041 - Copy

The connection we prize,  betwixt friendship and love,

more precious than either, the fit like a glove.

Elusive to seek and nebulous when found,

no sudden discovery, a revealing of lives bound.

A sense of arrival of something long sought,

like the missing jig-saw piece long since bought.

The vista of life’s shadow cast into light,

 my own wounds you touched, inner turmoil and fight.

Your essence reached out from long hidden time

parallel depths in recognition of mine.

You called out to me, I responded in kind

I cradled your pain for you mine to find.

Suspended by time, the connection a fine thread,

it sways with the seasons to others all but dead.

Poised for nourishment the possibility resides

the strengthening vein the longer it bides.

Two only in my lifetime thus far in time

too precious to waste, oh soulmate of mine!

Painting ‘The Writing Table’ by http://www.rebeccapells.co.uk/

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