Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Mr Cool. (Monty 1st Jan1995 - 4th Aug.2009)
His bark is like a clogging drainthe scent of food will make him drool.some folk may say, just one old dog,but he’s much more, he’s Mr cool.Be gentle..
© Ann Beard
Somewhere A Child Will Die.
Somewhere a child will die tonightsaid the gentle wind to new born leaves,as it weaves a lace of filtered sunlightto plunder shade like a million..
© Ann Beard
Memory Laid To Rest
So brightly each memory laid to rest,like a gentle retreat of an eager tide.Continues to shine on the darkest night,as delicate senses sooth and..
© Ann Beard
This Tired Old Heart
This tired old heart inclines towarda welcome light that gently flows,through corridors with heated floors,and upwards to infinity.So weathered by..
© Ann Beard
Every Soul
Deep in the centreof every soul.Is a need to connectwith the world as a whole.With colour and music,affection galore.In the guise of one specialold..
© Ann Beard
Alone, With The Passing Of Time
Tis the end, the demise of a love affair.She climbs into bed.....to seek consolationBut nothing and no-one is there to care.Alone..... with the..
© Ann Beard
Times Hungry Spender
Time tries to beat the hungry spender,watching stars light distant skies.Moments lost engrossed in splendour.flies before our very eyes.We clutter..
© Ann Beard
Being Loved
How she missed the illusion of being loved.That joyful sensation of walking on air,while accepting the volatile nature of changehope became worn, too..
© Ann Beard
Morpheus Son Of Sleep.
Come and sit for awhile, with Grandmato doze and suppose, what will you be.Before age distorts with adult desires,let us stir up the embers of infant..
© Ann Beard
Where Poems Belong.
Some images, woven through lines of a versecan trigger a yearning, to just slip away.While others inspire, filling pockets of need.Such are the games..
© Ann Beard
Another, S Heart
There are a multitude of mysteries inside another’s heart,the closest of true lovers would not know where to start.We are the masters of concealment..
© Ann Beard
A Hunters Coat.
l choose a hunters coat todaywear colours of the forest floor.I clean my gun and pack a bagwith care I whet my butchers saw.Sharp enough to cut..
© Ann Beard
Tarah, S Dollhouse
I will make you a dollhouse, Tarahto capture the dreams of a child.A place to engross in make believe,designed, to completely beguile.I will paint..
© Ann Beard
All The Gods
I hope all the Gods are together and watching,nectar and nibbles arms-reach from each chair.The atmosphere cold, eyes glued to our plight,swamped by..
© Ann Beard
The Ocean Makes Love To The Shore.
The sun....like a spotlight hangs low in the sky.While a midwinter frost, single-mindedly slides,its crystalline touch onto estuary..
© Ann Beard
Textbook Love
Was it textbook love, I am tempted to wonderThat bound us together so long ago.The flurry of years that haphazardly fell,to cushion each other like..
© Ann Beard
anxiety, nightmares, comfort
There is silencein the cemetery, half a world away,Forgotten graves lay unattended.Darkness gorges on decay.Here and now meets then.To stand beside..
© Ann Beard
A Nightmare.
Eyes close but do not block out sight,I cannot sleep but toss and turn.Not knowing where or whymy insecurity will bite.Tormented so by restless..
© Ann Beard
Such Ignorance
I have known such ignorance,that only lonely children know.Dabbled in stupidity, by chance,survived, and tried to grow.I have shown such..
© Ann Beard
Such Promise.
That birth should hold such promiseis pure wonder on its own.The very act of each day waking,Tempting seed, a new life sown.And would that..
© Ann Beard
The Ties That Bind
I am the lonely matriarch that spends,a lifetime - deftly catching many ends.Connecting every loved one to a friendto make our children fit to..
© Ann Beard