Stumpy

I lift, I try, I try to fly
My wings I flex to do those tricks
My mother does, my father does
But I’m still just a ball of fuzz.

I know you’re s’posed to flap a bit
To work those muscles, not just sit
But here I stay, feet on the ground
My wings I think must be unsound.

They’re stumpy, there’s no doubting it
They’ve no real feathers I admit
But maybe if I flex them lots
My wings will grow and you’ll see what’s

The outcome when I grow  so tall
With feathers  great and neck so long
I’ll be a fine fellow with a honking call
And you’ll look at me and be enthralled

And we won’t recall this little bit
When wings are wrong and just don’t fit
Will we?

Verse and photo copyright Englepip©

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A rose by any other name

They call you dog rose,
But could anything
Be more sublime
Than your five pink petals
And your  yellow filaments fine?

Derogatory term for beauty
Here hiding shyly
In the shade of early June.
Dappled light of early summer
But hedges soon to festoon.

They say you will cure
A mad dog’s bite
Your juices potent in the fight
But for me your beauty
Is the simple remedy
That helps heal a heart
Pierced by inconstant love’s dart.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

The gun at noon

With precision and aplomb,
The ceremony’s begun
And the soldier marches quick
Around the gun.
Dressed in military red
With his shako on his head,
He steps around the cannon
To his post.

Then with solemnity polite
He lights the fuse and sets alight
The shot that marks the noon
On Guernsey Isle.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

Please read the following link for more information on this ceremony.
via Daily Prompt: Ceremony

Daily Prompt: The Power of Steam

” Efficiency is the ratio of useful work to resources  expended. In other words, the ratio of the output to the input of a given system.”

 

They say  steam engines were

Really  inefficient.

Yet they worked and so

Were icons of their time.

 

Their powerful engines hissed

As their gliding pistons swished

And the big wheels steadily turned

Upon the line.

 

Journeying far ‘cross country

Along parallel lines of  track

Their smokestacks burning brightly

There and back.

 

Generations mourn their passing

And old engines they have rescued

Recombining, reassembling

All from the scrap.

 

They hammer and they chisel

Blacksmithing with a sizzle

Engineering perfect pieces

Of great size.

 

And when the engine’s  finished

They admire her in her glory

Resurrected into power

To run once more.

 

Then the new steam comes a-fizzing,

From the smoke-stack wildly hissing

And along the lines it’s whizzing

Inefficient maybe yes.

 

But do we care?

 

For that  old engine it is running

And faithfully it is pulling

Is it not a most amazing sight to see?

 

And to smell the soot and grime

Feel the rhythm of the line

Is a special thing for all,

 

Especially me.

 

Poem and photo copyright to Englepip©

 

 

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Inefficient

Daily Prompt: The Swallow

Little bird, swift bird,

Migrating on the wing

Swooping in from southern climes

Our  harbinger of  Spring

 

Zooming ‘cross  the pastures

While feeding in flight

Scooping up some insects

Then banking to get height.

 

Gathering up mud pellets

For nesting o’er the door

Feathering the inside

Laying white eggs; maybe four.

 

 

They are raising a brood

See the droppings on the floor

Sweeping in and swiftly feeding

Then back again with more.

 

And then the brood are ready

Tentatively they take flight

Til they too are flying

And we all take delight.

 

Scudding ‘cross the fields

And diving from aloft

Soaring to great heights

And through the clouds so soft.

 

But as Autumn approaches,

And evenings gather in

You’ll find them all chirping

From the wires such a din.

 

A flapping and a chatting

About the journey ahead

Taking the late sun’s rays

Upon their shiny heads

 

And then they take flight

Ascending in the air

To go thousands of miles

On a wing and a prayer.

 

Bon voyage little bird

By the sun you can steer

Travel safe if you can,

Hope to see you next year.

 

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

 

via Daily Prompt: Swallow

Daily Prompt: Gabby Young Trio

The Gabby Young Trio at the Midsummer Festival at the Royal Academy of Arts 2014

Surrounded by art

Of the great and good

The musical trio

With instruments stood.

Not the stuck up and haughty

But winsome and naughty

Playing music, rock-folksy with jazz.

The girls  decked with flowers

Their dresses so pretty

A guitarist both

Bearded and tall.

And as they play

With energy boundless

We find ourselves

Tapping away.

Their tunes

Captivating 

Almost hypnotising

We smile as we welcome

This treat.

For this great occasion

Is one huge alloy

Art, sculpture and music

Concurrent.

Was there e’r such an evening

Of beauty and laughter

Of dancing and singing

The gallery ringing

To tunes which

Express so much love.

I wrote this poem in celebration of a wonderful evening at The Royal Academy of Art Midsummer Festival in 2014. The exhibition each year, takes work from emerging and established artists and gives them a chance to showcase their work. In 2014 they had a wonderful party for which I won some tickets. It was an very memorable evening and for me this trio was the icing on the cake. I believe Gabby Young went on to form a group Gabby Young and other Animals but I don’t think they are currently performing.

Here is a link to more about the group. Click here.

Words and photo copyright Englepip©

Daily Prompt: Captivating

Daily Prompt: The Big Band

 

They said there’d be music

They said there’d be dance

When I looked at the band

I did not think grand.

 

Tried to make my excuses

To leave the room then

But my hosts stood before me

Said to just wait and see.

 

As the audience assembled

They started to tune

The cacophony piercing,

Pervading the room

 

I took a large gulp

Of the drink I was proffered

Tried to settle my nerves

For the sounds to be offered

 

But when they got started

I was tapping my foot

To the lilt of the music

Pure harmony they put.

 

Then “New York New York”

Sang out round the room

It wasn’t Old Blue Eyes

But he sang with aplomb.

 

Another old number

And I was “In the Mood”

As though with Glenn Miller

And now  I was glued.

 

From loud shrill and brassy

To romantic and soft

The band never faltered

I should not have scoffed.

 

 

And I loved all the evening

With these keen amateurs

And I learned to applaud

Not to offer censure.

 

So if you are invited

To a local venue

Give support open-minded,

Could be the best thing you do!

 

 

Amateur music can be just as fine as that of professionals given enthusiasm and talent moulded by a good conductor. I went to a Big Band evening and was really impressed with the band, which performs locally to raise money for charity. This poem and photo seek to express that. I hope you enjoy it and that you too will support local talent rather than just rely on the ‘professionals’ – remember everybody starts somewhere.

Copyright Englepip ©

 

via Daily Prompt: Cacophony

Autumn

Photographic images by Englepip Copyright ©

At first the Autumn creeps almost unseen

As leaves become duller, a little less green

Then suddenly out of the sky come the winds

First breezy, then blowy and then in a spin

That whirls and screeches and roars through the night

Bringing rain pellets from a huge height

‘Til, like stones, they drop on the waning flowers

And tumble the blossoms down with their might.

 

But the sun comes out and all is fair

Yet there’s a new coolness in the air.

Next the leaves change to a beautiful hue

Traffic light colours in the park to view

The squirrels run jumping canopy high

Gathering nuts – they know winter is nigh,

While down on the ground the hedgehogs are seeking

A  sheltered bed for their long, winter sleeping.

 

And then we awake to the first full frost

The puddles are glassy, the flowers are lost.

 

And overnight the trees are made bare

The ground like a stone  and the daylight has gone

The temperature plummets to minus figures

And  the full force of Arctic winds is bitter

For Autumn has ended, and winter has hit us.