Wednesday, 23 March 2016

Poetry Thursday 205 - Doing things your own way

The poetry this week could be summed up simply by saying that we live our lives and accept the consequences.

Image result for coffee in bed

The First Cup

Who brings you your first cup,
on the opening of eyes when you wake up?
Each day has a new beginning
and we have no knowledge of what its bringing.
So it’s good to start each breaking day,
with a shot of caffeine as you lay.

It’s not the same when you wake up
and have to make your own first cup,
but it is these days more often the case
as humans become a more solitary race.
No point in bleating on what went before
you’ve made your bed and know the score.

So as the sun brightens this old world up
and you climb back into bed with that first cup,
enjoy the benefit of blessed solitude,
as you adopt again a recumbent attitude.
Relish a gentler start to the day
but this time do it your way.
© David L Atkinson March 2016

I believe I was around ten years old when I read The Jungle Book and other stories. I was having the day off school because of a tooth extraction by gas. I can still see the old wooden stand bearing the dentist's drill and other accoutrements of mouth torture (mental shudder). While I was recovering from the gas I kept falling asleep and the trace of blood is still there, across the pages of Rikki Tikki Tavi, which had run from the corner of my mouth and dripped on to the pristine page. The short story is a lovely tale by Kipling about the creature below.

Image result for indian grey mongoose


As quick as a flash a sideways leap it takes,
when baiting highly venomous snakes.
Whether for food or fighting in bazaars,
they entertain and ignore the scars.

All God’s creatures need reproducing,
these comply in fits of giggling.
A creature who plays fast and loose,
the fascinating Indian Grey Mongoose.
© David L Atkinson March 2016

Although my attempt is simply that - an attempt - I found Kipling's poem about his creature. As an aid to understanding Red-Eye is the mongoose and Nag is the snake.

At the hole where he went in
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin.
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
"Nag, come up and dance with death! "

Eye to eye and head to head,
(Keep the measure, Nag.)
This shall end when one is dead;
(At thy pleasure, Nag.)

Turn for turn and twist for twist--
(Run and hide thee, Nag.)
Hah! The hooded Death has missed!
( Woe betide thee, Nag!)