A Poem for every day in November

So this is my eighth month of writing a poem for every day of the year. I would recommend it to anyone. It has been a delight for me and I hope for you. The subject matter varies so there should be a poem to suit all tastes. It is a voyage of discovery as I never know where my pen will take me. I say, my pen, and indeed at the start of the year I wrote my poems by hand on paper. Now I am much more likely to write straight onto the computer. So join me now as I venture into the darker month of November in the northern hemisphere.

November 1st

The first day of November

Surprises me

With sunshine.

Bright and glorious.

'Tis true there is

A chill in the air,

But the sun is most welcome.

As my old Aunt would have said,

"This will shorten the winter."

Indeed we are always glad

To have sunshine

At this time of the year,

As often grey day follows grey.

So today we rejoice

In a touch of May

As we begin November.

Listen

November 2nd

God speaks to me

In the early hours.

He shows me myself

In all the horror

Of my selfishness

And yet here is

His forgiving love.

He is resplendent in

Perfect righteousness.

I am sickened by myself.

How could he love me?

And yet he does

And lifts me up

Till I know my worth

In him.

And all my horror at myself

Disappears

In knowing I am

Eternally loved by him.

Listen

November 3rd

Drink in the glory of the

Autumn colours.

Saturate your mind

With this bliss.

For this dazzling blaze

Of differing hues

Will quickly pass.

One sharp frost,

Or one wet windy night

Will rob us

Of this wonderful display.

The candle flares up

Before the darkness comes.

Drink in the colour

And store it in your mind

To cheer you

In the grey days of the winter.

And then prepare for Spring's gentler splendour.

Listen

November 3rd

Today I gave a poetry reading to my local blind club. I used the theme of the seasons and used many of the poems I wrote in my weekly challenge last year. I was delighted to find that the really came alive being read out loud. It as most encouraging for me and makes me feel I want to keep writing on a daily basis. I am at present writing Sonnets as you can see in the featured page below. I also played music between the poems.

November 4th

I get into bed

And snuggle down,

I feel beautifully sleepy

And begin to doze.

And then

With a click and a clunk

My mind begins to whirr.

I am wide awake

And full of ideas.

I try to discipline myself

To lie still,

But that euphoric, cosy state

Has gone.

Why does the bed

Feel like a board

when in the morning,

when I finally settle,

It will be soft

And I will feel moulded into it,

almost inside the mattress?

Whereas now, I feel I am lying

On top of the bed

Exposed to every wind of thought

And waterfall of idea.

It's no good,

I must get up and write.

Listen

November 5th

This body is getting old

First the back

And now the shoulder

Complain

Of too much use.

What to do for the best,

Should I exercise

Or should I rest?

How it pulls

The spirit down

When the body

Makes itself noticed

Shall I take painkillers

Or wear a poultice?

I know not if it is because of age

For I have been this road many times before,

Even in my teenage.

Soon it will cease

And I will skip like a lamb

Taking for granted

My mobility.

Listen

November 6th

Gentle night

Surround me

With your healing power.

Hold me in the hollow

Of your scented bower.

With your dreams entrance me.

Smooth my fears away.

Bring me to the brink

Of a new, sweet day.

There to face the perils

Of a new day's light,

Strengthened by my sleep,

For another fight.

Listen

Should poetry always rhyme or can prose be poetry?

November 7th

November rain

Is in the air,

Falling down.

But the trees are not yet bare.

It's cold and wet.

Let's stay inside,

Or if you like

In the car we'll ride.

We'll fetch some eggs

And bacon too

Fry them up.

That's what we'll do.

We'll eat them up

In a trice,

Then have a pudding.

That'll be nice.

We'll thank the Lord

Who gives us all,

Praise His name

And on Him call.

For God above

Deserves our praise.

We'll worship Him

All our days.

Listen

November 8th

Pitter, patter

It can't be rain.

Yes it is,

Here it comes again.

Oh what fortunate people we are,

To have rain.

Not like people afar,

Who have no crops

To feed themselves,

But have to look at

Empty shelves.

So we must ever thankful be

When rain on our window pane we see.

Listen

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November 9th

Rain lashing down,

The sun a memory,

Hidden behind grey cloud,

Grey shroud.

Thank the Lord

For electric light.

Cold's fingers touch my skin.

I shiver.

Thank the Lord

For warm clothes.

For all problems

He has an answer.

November 10th

And so November

Surprises us again

With skies of blue

And coloured trees.

The leaves are thinning out,

The splendour not so great

And yet a little blaze is there

Bravely shining in the sun

Before the last leaf falls.

November 11th

She does not like my new friend.

But why?

We are not close.

What danger does she see

In this enthusiastic person?

Ready to work

To make our project a success.

Does she fear she will not be so valued?

Not the king pin

she desires to be?

Can we not work together in harmony

And have greater success?

November 12th

The night was rough,

The leaves are falling fast.

The rain is pulling them

From off the twigs.

We see their glory fade

We prepare

For the starkness of winter hillside.

November 13th

Men think we want to change them,

We do not.

We want them to stay

The kind, attentive men

They are

When we first meet them.

The gentlemen

With kindly smile

Always ready to listen.

But once we marry them

Off comes the mask,

And anger creeps into their face.

Or simply they ignore us.

Why can't they stay

The way they were

When we first met them.

November 14th

Winter sun

Shining so brightly

Clearing away the gloom.

Stll there are leaves with colour

Although they will soon

Be gone.

The cold will bite

And the wind will moan,

But the Spring will come again.

The seasons will circle

The days grow long

And you will be

With me again.

November 15th

Last night I preached a sermon

Of judgment and of love,

How Jesus came to save us

He came from heaven above.

He humbled himself

To take our place

Upon that cross of shame.

I know not if the congregation

Cared for why he came.

I could be disappointed

And lose heart,

But I console myself

By preaching

I did my part.

I must travel on

And preach again,

Knowing not

If my efforts

Cause faith to wax or wane.

My Lord knows

What the result will be.

I'll trust in him

For what will be.

November 16th

When I am lost

In deep despair

There is a beauteous cloak I wear.

It is the robe of righteousness

Which Jesus brings,

And oh 'tis fair.

Given to me at such a price.

The cost his death

And separation from the Father for our vice.

It wraps me round with holy glee

To be accepted, even me.

This is the only way to enter,

To be accepted at heaven's centre.

This precious robe it must be worn

If you would stand on heaven's morn.

November 17th

How moods

Will come and go.

Now I am happy, gleeful,

Then low and slow.

So which is the real me

The happy or the sad?

Am I basically merry,

Joyous and glad?

Or am I really solemn,

Feeling all is bad?

Happiness usually

Wins the day.

But I would like this way to stay.

I do not enjoy

Depression gray.

November 18th

It's nearly ten at night

And I have nearly forgotten

My poem of the day.

What shall I say?

I'm getting lax

Treating my challenge

With gay abandon

As if the words come easily.

Leaving my poem

Till the dregs of the day.

What shall I say?

Oh!! I see I've said it.

November 19th

The light has dawned

A new day has come

Christ has arisen in my life.

Before all was dark

But He has come

To dispel all my gloom

My sin is gone.

His righteousness

Is wrapping me round

Where once was sin's dark stain.

I gladly admit my need of Him

And gladly wear His crown.

November 20th

The family came

We had fish and chips.

Laughter and chatter

Filled the air.

Then they were gone,

Peace descended.

Here's to the next time

They come.

November 21st

Leaves chase along the path

Like children at play.

My shoes scrunch through them

As I go on my way.

They toss and frolic

In the wind,

In varied hue

As you will find.

The wind is cold,

The darkness falls.

We go indoors

Safe in four walls.

November 22nd

A Bible is a wondrous thing.

Not meant to prop up a ricketty piece of furniture,

But meant to prop you up

With help from God.

It is like food.

You are meant to read it regularly

On a daily basis,

Small pieces at first

And then banquets

Or you will fade away.

November 23rd

The funeral is tomorrow.

We are busy

Seeing the registrar.

Ninety-seven years

Summed up in so few words.

Just a single sheet of paper

And then farewell.

There are biscuits to buy

And tea bags

For a farewell cup of tea

For the mourners.

Ninety-seven years

And then life here is over.

Gone into the mystery

Of beyond.

A road we all must travel.

May we travel it as well as he did.

November 24th

In the old country chapel

In the great yew's shade

The mourners met

Their farewells to bade.

Alfred was gone

To the land above.

Remembered fondly

Remembered with love.

A much loved father

And Grandad too.

Tears were shed

For memories true.

Hymns were sung

And tributes read.

The kindest things

Were sweetly said.

Ninety-seven years

Over and gone.

In heaven above

His soul lives on.

November 25th

The cold is nipping at my toes

Up in the north it snows.

Another duvet on my bed,

That's how the story goes.

Winter has come to England

And the leaves are off the trees

Summer is truly over

We are in for a freeze.

We never seem to be ready

We are always caught unaware

There's never enough grit for the roads

The cupboards are all bare.

November 26th

A poem a day,

Oh what shall I say?

I've said it all

In the months before

A little rhyme,

But I don't have time.

It's driving me crazy

To come here each daysy.

If only April would come

Then I could be dumb.

Just lay down my pen.

Oh when, oh when?

My brain is quite hollow

I just want to wallow

In painting

And drawing

Or even go out of doors sawing.

But to rhyme

I want not.

I just want to be shot

Of this challenge

Of my own making.

November 27th

By village lamp's light

We made our way

Up snowy path

To the church door.

Entering we found

Evergreen posies

All around.

We met to hear

The handbells ring

Cheerily welcoming us

And angel's wing

Was carved above

Where rafters met

To hold the roof

And keep out the wet.

An organ played

Of mellow tone.

Donated by Americans

Who had lived on the aerodrome.

Two violins joined in to play

An accordion also

With bold display

Of speed and talent

Made the day.

Mince pies and sausage rolls

Filled each tum.

Now was that brandy

Or a hint of rum.

A joyous time was had by all

We all went home having had a ball.

November 28th

'Tis cold this day

For 'tis not May

And will not be for long

The cold will stay

For many a day.

So steel yourself my friend.

In bed I lay

Long past break of day,

For warm I am in there.

But rise I must

And meet the wind's gust

I will dress well for this.

I will wear a vest

I think that's best

And then a jumper or two.

With trousers fleecy

I'll meet the breezy

And chilling wind.

With boots on feet

The cold I'll meet

And gloves upon my hands.

Thus dressed

So blessed

We'll win through the day.

November 29th

As winter cuts deeper

My heart bleeds too

For the moments of love

I had with you.

Our Spring was so happy

In morning's sweet dew.

We shared a tender secret

And all seemed new.

Our Summer was glorious

Our troubles were few.

Then Autumn came in

And discord grew.

Now in the Winter

All that was true

Has flown and gone

And left me no clue.

I have to move on

To a life that is new.

November 30th

A tickling

And a trickling snow

Fell from a pewter sky.

People hurried to the shop,

For this is England

And the first sign of snow

Brings panic.

Snow is so infrequent,

We know not how to cope with it

When it comes.

We store up toilet rolls

And milk and soup and bread

For snow that lasts two days

And then melts away

As quickly as it came.