A Poem for Every Day in September Essay

How the year progresses and my collection of poems grows. No doubt this month will contain more struggles with my landlord, but I will try not to get bogged down with that and will give you some light hearted poems too.

I’m really into the rhythm of writing a poem every day and it is a joy to do it. If you write a poem now and again I would encourage you to take up this challenge too as it can only benefit your writing. Discipline helps inspiration. Even if you start off with some poor specimens, as you progress more and more of your writing will become acceptable and then even good. The good poems need the experience of the poor ones to make them possible.

See below for how to find my poems in previous months.

Added 2012

Yellow and mellow

This fine fellow

Is called September.

Where the summer

Left us washed out,

This month brings the sun out,

With more tender rays

It brightens the days.

Happily we gaze

Into the now blue sky.

September 1st, 2010

The mellowness of September

Is with us once more.

The haze of morning

And bright sun of noon,

The coolness of the eve.

The pace of life slows down

The evenings pull in.

The night grows cold,

The fireside glows once more.

The fruit is hanging on the bough,

Apple and blackberry pie is eaten.

The visiting birds have flown,

But the sun still glows

In an Indian summer.

September 2nd, 2010

Season of mellowness

Of fruitfulness and dreams

Dust and haze and wistfulness

Through the sun’s golden beams.

Drunken wasps in orchard

Where the apples lie,

Strewn among the nettles

Growing up so high.

Time of sleep and plenty

The harvest time is o’er

Crops are garnered safely

On the old barn floor.

September 3rd, 2010

The landlords are vanquished,

The tenants triumphant.

The windows will be mended

But I will be vigilant.

I’ll not trust them an inch

But still press for improvements.

The law is on our side,

We’ll get value for our rents.

So now I can turn to praise

The golden days of Autumn

Turn my back on the landlords

Of their doings be dumb.

September 4th, 2010

I’m going short mat bowling today.

What is that? I hear you say.

Take a look at the lens below

It will tell you all you need to know.

It’s an indoor game

So I guess the weather will be good

I’ll play my best

Just as I should.

Along the mat

The woods will roll

And hit the jack

Which is their goal.

We’re playing pairs

Two against two

And no one knows

Just how we’ll do.

But it will be fun to play

Whatever happens on this day.

September 5th, 2010

Life goes along

Sweet and calm

Like a river gently flowing

And then –

Suddenly

The rapids are ahead

And you are thrown into the maelstrom.

Just remember the calm will come again

And just as suddenly

The plunge of another waterfall.

In the calm prepare yourself

For the tumult and the rage.

The worst part is the fear

The fear of things which will never happen.

What doesn’t kill you

Makes you stronger.

Bring your canoe through

And you will be ready for

The next test

September 6th, 2010

At the end of a busy day

What more could I ask

Than a cup of hot chocolate?

That creamy brown liquid

Lies on my tongue

And slips down my throat

Like a stream of luxury

Soothing away the worries

Calming my tired body.

I may be dieting

But there are some things

Which are sacrosanct

My drinking chocolate is such.

September 7th, 2010

In cornwall

the sea is a special colour

Made from the usual blue

And the yellow of the sand.

The sea is edged with a lacy white.

The white horses plunge forward

And dash themselves

In the sand.

September 8th, 2010

Where once miners toiled

Now, instead laze holidaymakers.

The people are poor

And give up their homes

to those who have one already.

Is this right?

September 9th, 2010

How to be perfect?

How indeed!!

When the human will

Is so strong to do ill.

Forgiveness, I can understand

And depend on it by the second.

But Perfection

Is still in the future.

Perhaps for a fleeting nano-second

I can experience it

But alas, that is my best.

September 10th, 2010

Oh! to be back in my home again.

Back in my own cosy bed.

Back to the vision of splendid hills

Where sheep and cattle are fed.

To go away indeed is fun,

To dwell in other pleasant lands.

To see their blue seas

And walk their golden sands.

But there is nothing quite like home,

It must be said

And to lie at peace

In my own cosy bed.

September 11th,2010

Getting back into routine

Takes a while,

But being there

Makes you smile.

Home and doing

Homely things

Back on track

Where my heart sings.

The trivial round

Of daily task,

Fills the time

With all I ask.

It takes a day or two

To settle down

Come back from the blue sea,

To the earth so brown.

September 12th, 2010

Sometimes the clouds roll in

With a thump.

Depression has come

You feel like a lump.

All is black and gloomy

And you feel you will stay

Like this for ever,

With no brighter day.

But depression comes

And depression goes

Though it doesn’t feel like it

When you are in its thoes.

The light will come again

And you will live at ease,

Feeling bright and purposeful

Busy as the bees.

September 13th, 2010

I’m gearing myself up

To return to the tale

Of Amalie, the brave

And her friend Rosa so pale.

I spoke of them last

A month or two back

Now I want to return

And pick up the track.

They are safe in the convent

For now it would seem

New ventures await,

T’will fill up a ream.

So come you back tomorrow

If you would glean

The further adventures of Amalie

My story’s queen.

September 14th,2010

Amalie and Rosa

And the babes slept well

Now in a haven

Safe from their hell

The hell of Rosa’s husband

Vindictive and mean

Unjustly jealous

As has been seen.

After breakfast was over

To Mother Superior they came

And told their story.

In them she found no blame.

She sent them to work

In the fields so fair

While she pondered what was best

And spent time in prayer.

Amalie and Rosa worked hard

For their keep

Began to relax

Felt no need to weep.

Mother Superior sent for them

Later that night

Said to have the babes baptized

Would be her delight.

The priest came next day

And Annabel was named

Then Amalie’s boy was called Aquila

An eagle untamed.

“He shall fly o’er the mountains”

Amalie said,

To search for his father

Be he alive or dead.

But first he will stay with me

And grow strong

The years I have with him

Will be long

September 15th, 2010

They settled in

To a routine life.

The nuns loved the babes,

Here there was no strife

One day the little bell tinkled,

They looked in the glass ball

Saw there a man

Dark and tall.

They kept to their room

Warned by a nun

To keep quiet and still

‘Til his visit was done.

When he was gone

Mother Superior sent for the girls,

Told of his visit

And his search for some pearls.

He was looking for them

Sent from Rosa’s spouse

Looking for them

As he had searched his house

And finding jewels missing

Had flown in a rage

Sent the man looking

As told on this page.

Rosa spoke up

Declared she had gems

But all her own

Sewn into her hems.

Mother Superior then said

Although they were welcome here

She feared there were not safe

Not free from all fear.

It was still too near

To Don Miguel’s home

To the sister convent in the mountains

There they should roam

They waited a week

Kept hidden inside

Then with a horse each

And a guide

Off they did ride.

The nuns were sad to see them go

And would so miss the little ones

But knew it was for the best

Those loving nuns.

September 16th, 2010

They rode up the mountain path

Led by a young lad.

With the babes on the mule

in warm clothes clad.

How good those two young ones

Knew nothing of fear

Just enjoyed the ride

Watched their mother’s dear.

Spent much time in sleep

And woke with smiles

As the animals took them

On the upward miles.

The lad named Pietro

Was cheerful and kind

Led them gently

On the best path he could find.

He whistled merrily

In the clear air,

Kept the girls cheerful

That much maligned pair.

He led them to

A clear mountain brook

Let the horses drink,

Heard the cry of a rook.

He said it was an omen

Of good things to come.

They were blessed ladies he said.

Then they heard a faint drum.

It came from the next valley

Pietro said

A hermit sage lived there,

So onward they sped.

They agreed they needed counsel

So it would be good

To ask the old drummer

And pay him with food.

September 17th, 2010

As they drew nearer

the drum rolled loud.

Amalie gripped her reins

As they passed through the cloud.

Above all was sunshine,

Warm and pleasing.

They felt their spirits rise

Of their fears felt easing.

The hermit waved kiindly

And ceased his drumming.

He welcomed them warmly,

Said he was glad of their coming.

“Two mothers,” he said,

“Of equal worth.

With precious little ones,

To whom you gave birth.”

“Annabel shall be

A lady great,

Who will always welcome

The poor at her gate.”

“And Aquila,” he said,

“Shall travel far.

Guided along

By an unknown star.”

“My dear,”

He said to Amalie,

“Enjoy his young days well.

For later you must set him free.

As an eagle cannot be

Kept in a cage,

So this bird of life

Must not be driven to rage.”

“He will always return

As his father has done.

Wait for him then,

He will always be your son.”

September 18th, 2010

They journeyed on

Uplifted and calm

Glad to have received

The old man’s balm.

Amalie looked back

To see a man young and spry

Striking the drum

Below the blue sky.

“Who is that young man

Down below?” she said.

“I thought hermits lived alone.

A solitary life led.”

“They do indeed,”

Pietro replied

“That is the hermit,

I tell you no lie.

“When he plays the drum

He is fit and strong,

But becomes an old man

When he finishes its song.”

September 19th

They travelled on

Through a rocky ravine

Where the path was narrow

The worst they had seen.

On their right was a drop

Of thousands of feet.

They had to lead their horses

It was no treat.

Then to their horror

The mule stumbled

Lost her footing

And over tumbled.

The precious babes

Were tossed in the air.

Down they fell

That happy pair.

The mother’s looked up

With horrified eyes

Saw a bright, white flash

In the darkening skies.

An angel of God

Swooped down from above

Caught up those babes

And held them with love.

Brought them back

To the mothers amazed,

Placed them safe in their arms

With not even a graze.

The babies cooed happily

In the trembling arms.

Safely nestled

Free from all harms.

Amalie to the angel did say,

“Sir, what can we do

you to repay.”

“There is nothing,”he said

“I’m just doing my job,

Doing the will

Of your heavenly father God.”

With that he swung upward

And moved out of sight.

The girls still amazed

And shaking from their fright.

September 20th, 2010

The convent below them

Sat on a plateau.

They realized they would be safe here

When cut off by snow.

Here was a place

They could dwell

Living in peace

Warned by the bell

Here the bell did not tinkle

Nor tremble at all

They knew they were safe for a while

Under the convent’s motherly wall.

They were greeted with joy

By these sequestered nuns.

They dined on soup

And after had buns.

The nuns were delighted

Two babies to see

And cuddled them close

As close as could be.

Amalie still pondered

Their rescue from plight

But did not speak of it

That first night.

She pondered like Mary

Of long ago,

Why these things should be

Why they should be so.

Amalie usually bubbly

Was quiet and still

The nuns watched her carefully

wondered if she were ill.

Rosa was quiet

But that was just her way.

She was glad to be here

To find a place

Where they could stay.

September 21st, 2010

They all slept peacefully

Though Amalie in a trance.

They rose in the morning

Gave the babes

A thankful glance

With breakfast over

They bade farewell

To the faithful Pietro

Who had served them well.

They bade him take care

As the ravine he rode above.

Said to tell the nuns

And give them their love.

Pietro rode off

And waved with a flourish.

He would tell the nuns

Their faith to nourish.

September 22nd, 2010

That week the snow came

Fluffy and white.

The girls knew they were safe

From Don Miguel’s might.

They settled down

To a gentle routine.

Looked at the babes with wonder

For all they had seen.

Amalie was much quieter

Than heretofore

Rosa grew stronger

Her spirits did soar.

Amalie was more solid

And grew her faith.

Rosa was lifted up

Much less a wraith.

To the chapel

These girls would go

Full of love and contrition

Thankful to God

for their condition.

September 23rd, 2010

They knew they were safe

While the snow fell around

Then in the Spring Don Miguel

Would on the high seas be found.

The nuns found work for them,

Amalie as cook

While Rosa spent time in the library

Writing in a book.

Her illuminations were good

Admired by all

And Amalie filled them up

With food for the hall.

The little ones grew sturdy

And rosy and round

The happiest children

That could be found.

Life had a good pattern

And peace reigned

It was a time of blessing

Of joy unfeigned

September 24th, 2010

The children’s first Christmas

Drew near.

All was smiles

Nor ever a tear.

The children knew what “Mummy” meant,

But knew not of “Dad”.

Though the nuns spoke of “Father”

So no one was sad.

For Father above

Had surrounded them with love

And kept them from harm

In this land of the dove.

The nuns were delighted

To see the children grow,

From the top of their head

To the tip of their toe.

Then suddenly Spring came

Gone was the snow.

Young Aquila took his first steps

My did he go!

Annabel being younger

Was content to sit down

Or crawl after her companion

With never a frown.

September 25th, 2010

Autumn days

So crisp and bright,

Bringing colder times

At night.

Evenings in

By the fireside glow

Warm you leg

And warm your toe.

Companionship

Beside the fire,

Farmer’s cows

Sleep in the byre.

A time to sleep

To think and dream

Remember now

Summer’s beam.

Be content

While winter’s here

To look forward

To the next year

September 26th, 2010

Rosa and Amalie

With their children so dear,

Lived with the nuns

For many a year.

At last the children

Had reached the age of ten.

Mother Superior ruled

It was time for Aquila to leave then.

Rosa was so content to stay with the sisters,

So the good friends parted.

Amalie and Aquila took to new vistas.

The parting was tender,

Little Annabel cried

To see her dear playmate

Away from her ride.

Amalie planned to go to her father

And leave Aquila there

To learn a good trade

Be a craftsman rare.

She had plans

To look for her lover.

See if he had come back

As the hermit did discover.

September 27th, 2010

The days grow grey

Although it must be said

The sun shone bright this morning.

How soon we forget

The blessings we receive.

There is even a blessing in the grey day

A benison of peace and tranquillity

September 28th, 2010

A little cat lies by my side

And makes a happy purring.

Content she lies

No mewing cries

Her tummy full of fish.

Oh to be so easily made content.

We humans fret too much

We worry and we fret

When things cannot be changed.

What we could learn from a little cat.

September 29th,2010

The leaves are withering on the bow

But doing it in splendour.

The leaves fall now

Upon the ground

And crisply lie in heaps.

A little child in welly boots

Walks through and with delight

Listens while they rustle

In the crisp cold air.

September 30th,2010

Should a poem

Necessarily rhyme?

Every time.

Or can it wander through vocabulary

Any way I choose,

Or will I something lose

If this is what I do?

It all depends on my muse.