Baby Blues

I wrote this last year for Alhzeimers  Week for my causes Blog  Poetic Causes  where further  poems on this subject can be found 

Baby Blues 

Picture By Jinksy 

Baby Blues 

I look into those baby blues to see 

I see you but you see me 

in some refracted history 

Times misplaced,displaced ,

Some times erased ,misplaced!

I look into your baby blues, 

I miss the twinkle,

Replaced by well earned wrinkles

That sprinkle your ivory skin,

Somewhere inside you are still within. 

I look into your baby blues to see,

I see you ,how do you see me ?

Your child ? your carer ?

Your memory sharer ?

I search those baby blues 

In my heart,I know deep,deep inside. 

My mother still resides, 

Inside, she cannot hide, 

I know those baby blues !

Pippa The Posing Penguin ( chids lit )

Pippa The Posing Penguin 

Jinksy

Pippa the penguin dreamt every night
Of little sprites that weren't black or white
They usually danced and pranced
In and around her bed
Sprinkling  stardust occasionally upon her head
Then one very, very, snowy, snowy night
Pippas dream seem different real, somehow bright!
The little sprites who weren't black and white,
Sprinkled the stardust up and down and all around,
      They got all together and made Pippa laugh like a clown,
They tickled her toes,
her tail ,flippers
and then her nose
The stardust stuck and created a sensation
Pippa was a star in her snowy,snowy nation
 In her two tone world of black and white
Pippa was front page news overnight !


Submitted to : In Tandem  where art and poetry meet 

Mojo Interrupted

MOJO  INTERRUPTED 

Jinksy 

Cool, pale, washed out, 

Speak quietly, don't shout!

Chilling, trying to capture back my vibrancy, 

My  Mojo seems to have lost its intensity  

My world appears to me ghostly pale  

My movements have slowed like a snail 

So speak softly ,don't shout, 

I need time, peace and quiet,

To coax 

My Mojo back out !

 Written for IN TANDEM  where Art and Words meet 

Just Another Day

Just Another Day 

Jinksy 

Mauve, muted ,mountains in early morning heat, 

Constructed by men and robots with steel and concrete,

Some eerie echoing within,

Containing the tools for the working day to begin, 

Others a hive of activity,

 A cacophony of society. 

Mauve, muted ,mountains slowly turn to grey, 

As the heat intensifies on another summers day, 

Buzzing workers replace the eerie echo

Babies and families make their own social ghetto,

Creating this hive of society, 

 A cacophony of activity!  

Submitted to IN TANDEM  where art become the prompt for more creativity