My New Hobby

This poem was born when I posted a question on a forum about treatment for my painful, stiff shoulder.  One helpful person explained that an exercise could help "Bend forward, as if looking down a manhole and let the arm hang down, rotate several times in each direction"  I spoke with the person concerned and said I hadn't realised he had such an interest in manhole covers....his reply...."Everybody's gotta have a hobby"


Call me strange but this inspired a new poem.....

My new hobby!

I've discovered a brand new interest

Quite unusual as hobbies go

I remove manhole covers and put them aside

Then stare down at the depths far below.

Then I let my left arm dangle downwards

And clockwise I gently rotate

Just four or five times is sufficient

To attain a relaxed, pleasant state.

Then I pause for a moment, reflecting

On the darkness and calm neath my gaze

And I let my arm swing anti-clockwise

Bringing balance to unsettled days.

As I slowly stand up, I smile kindly

At the crowd which has gathered to see

Quite what has grabbed my rapt attention

And so held and entertained me.

And I pick up the cover, replace it

And bid my observers farewell

And try not to grimace too obviously

At my shoulder that's hurting like hell.

Then I go on my way hunting manholes

For the healing I seek lies within

And I think of the forum, and Robster

For my hobby was lauded by him.

Such amazing advice can be found here

And if this can ease some of my pain

I'll never walk on past a manhole

In a nonchalant manner again!

Karen Holmes

18 February 2011

Forces of Nature

Upturned wheely bins lie stranded

rubbish scattered far and near

broken branches, fences leaning

What's been going on round here?

Empty coke cans, broken bottles

pizza boxes strewn around

Plants snapped off with pure abandon

Roof tiles broken on the ground

Has there been a gang of vandals

Or a party that went wrong

No it's just a force of nature

Mighty wind that blows so strong

Something's made the wind so angry

Full of ire he vents his rage

Through the streets amongst the gardens

Devastation at each stage

Hear him curse, displaying his fury

Woe betide those in his path

Seeking entrance at each keyhole

Hear his violence, feel his wrath

Trees are bent beneath his wildness

Windows rattle in their frames

Still he seeks his retribution

For unmentioned, unknown crimes.

Don't incur the wrath of nature

Don't underestimate it's force

Take heed of the flattened landscape

Once the wind has run it's course.

Karen Holmes

February 5^th 2011