Issue31AnanabelleTipper

Poetic Hours

Online

Autumn 2008

Anabelle Tipper

Have Patience

My heart's been closed to the thing they call love,

Not allowing its presence to be felt,

Impervious since the sorrow he dealt,

Which hit like a thunderbolt from above.

If you think you could fit me like a glove,

I'll need more than sweet words to make me melt,

To salve the remembrance of every welt;

But a strong man could give my pain a shove,

Brush the cobwebs from the creaky old door,

And softly breathe precious new life within;

Oil my heart's wheels so it works as before

And, slowly, my trust I will let you win.

Please be patient and allow me some time

To expunge the horrors of love's past crime.

Dream Weavers

A kaleidoscope of moving images

pour into my receptive mind.

Every great song tells a story,

this is something I always find.

More than mere aural delights,

those lyrics to me are just like videos.

I close my eyes as my imagination takes hold

and enjoy my very own private shows.

I'm engrossed as the tales unfold,

the plotlines and characters seem so clear.

My favourites continue to give pleasure,

time after time and year after year.

I revel in the magic and wonder

which songwriters' creations can bring.

The world seems a much better place

when I hear the dream weavers sing.

Reel Love

In the days before videos and DVDs,

A trip to the cinema was sure to please,

The perfect outing, such a wonderful treat,

A great place for friends and lovers to meet.

The smell of popcorn was everywhere,

As excitedly you'd find a chair;

A hush descended as the lights went out,

Though a small child occasionally let out a shout,

Bursting with impatience for the film to begin,

But adverts came first as more people trickled in,

Tantalising trailers of things to look forward to,

Before finally showing the movie we wanted to view.

Our hero or heroine would appear, larger than life,

And in the air, a sense of magic seemed rife.

We'd sit transfixed, our eyes glued to the screen,

As a myriad stories gave us a chance to dream;

But we've lost some of the charm of the good old days,

Now we're bombarded with images in so many ways.