Looking for Rainbows

Looking for Rainbows A Collection of Poems, verse + other stuff by Brian Francis Kirkham

Looking for Rainbows “I’m Looking for Rainbows in Cloudless Skies…”

Copyright (text & original art) Brian Francis Kirkham 2010 The right of Brian Francis Kirkham to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, designs & patents act 1988 Original Artwork created in Corel Painter Essentials 4 All rights reserved No reproduction copy or transmission of this publication May be made without written permission No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced Copied or transmitted save with written permission Of the Author or in accordance with the provisions of The Copyright Act 1956 (As Amended)

A Brief Introduction “I said one day I’d get this stuff on paper….”

This little selection of written verse follows on from the story i Wrote last month, which was also self – published on Myebook.com I tend to get my Inspiration from my general surroundings, and In particular, where I do my volunteering during the week and where I go from day to day.

If after you’ve read my book, you want to tell me what you Think of it , drop me a message on my facebook page @ www.facebook.com/brian.f.kirkham or in facebook groups - Project:Kreativ Cheers!

Brian

Acknowledgements My thanks go to the ladies and gentlemen of BASICs Creative Writing Group, and our leaders past and present, Gina and Caroline, for giving me the impetus to keep going with the book.

“Without Whom”s go to Mary Todd from BASICs Memory Workshop and Mary Mullin BASICs Skills Tutor, for introducing me to the class.

The Angler’s Lament The Angler sits on his seat of green and survey's the nets he is in between wispy clouds gather in tight as the sun becomes dimmer in the light He casts a new line thats brimming with bait as all he can do is sit down and wait, but cannot help hear the laughter thats raisin' of the fish, who are safely, in another basin.

Written Friday 2nd July

The Garden I'm sitting on a comfy chair looking at colours everywhere, the lawn is so green, the violets so blue, the marigolds yellow, I like those too!

In a corner is a tree that's grown for a while as we planted it when i was a child.

There's a hole in the lawn, where clothes on a line dry in the sun in quickfast time And resident birds roost up in the nest thats in the trees high branches i'd never have guessed!

Written Thursday 1st July ·

In Camera The Lens opens wide as the flash burns bright, and captures a moment a part of the night.

Freezing in time, A Meal or the dance.

Or that special moment, or that golden chance.

Capturing faces, or places you know, keeping the memory afresh as you grow.

Written Thursday 1st July

On Patrol They're out on patrol again, You could call them - "The Flying Squad" Keeping the streets of Salford Quays Free from the menace of Breadcrumbs.

They can clean the walkway in five minutes flat saying to the other birds "What are you looking at ?"

And the seagulls from elsewhere know not to get into a fight with the flying squad They'll get a fright.

Written Sunday 16th May

Temptation It sits there on the table, with a note by its side standing aloft like a guard with pride DO NOT TOUCH! says the label, by the cake on the table prepared by the three, made especially for tea.

But it's looking so nice just sat on its own you sneak into the kitchen, and your cover is blown.

You don't know that you have been seen and wander what it's like with custard or cream.

No one will know You think to yourself But then Dad comes in, and puts the cake on a shelf!

Written 12th April 2010

Badminton The Shuttlecock ascends at the start of play as a new day of competition is underway it passes between posts both morning and night passed at speed like a bird in flight high in the air between two competitive foes away it goes!

Backwards and forwards, forwards and back.

One player defends as the other attacks, till momentum falls and the shuttle descends to the floor of green.

Then the umpire between says it’s in or it’s out, helped by officials gathered about. as they play for the prize which is quite grand in size

Written 16th April 2010

The Herons Return The Heron is balanced, in a corner of the bay, Dreaming of fish, a mere stretch away Staring at a red bridge and buildings of glass Thinking of morsels, he will amass Anglers watch as he soars overhead, and try to distract him with pieces of bread, Balanced precariously, on a Bright Orange Ball, he dreams of fish and tries not to fall!

Geese make their noises as they gather around, The Heron does nothing but stand his ground Balanced carefully on the bright orange buoy, A Carp or a salmon is his favorite joy Flapping his wings to dry off the rain He thinks of fish suppers again and again The daylight gets dimmer as The fish swim around, The Heron sits waiting, not making a sound.

Floodlights gather on the watery hole, A Moonlit supper our heroes goal, As the Dredger makes dock and The bell makes a toll, The Heron dives for its fish, and swallows it whole!

Written 9th April 2010

The Old Man of Mont Blanc Sat on the top of a Snow Covered Hill The warty old man sits amongst the trees and Waits for the moment, the moment he's been waiting for, that perfect moment, that perfect time, when the sun sits high, in the perfect place, where snow lies powered on the ground, Untouched, Brilliant White...

And then He's Off! Written 9th April 2010

Winters Wheel It’s cold at the top of the snow covered hill, but that’s what gives it momentum.

It was a bin lid, modified by a kid, Its edges are round, but doesn't half make a sound, as it clambers downhill, moving fast and then slow, picking up the moss and the crisp white snow Disturbing the grasses, pushed out of its way, hurtling down hill without delay till at last it stops at the end of its path, decreasing motion, like down in a graph.

It stops in a second and waits just to fall, but it cannot, as the wheel, has become A Snowball.Written 9th April 2010

An Ode to Roadworks Theres a hole, the size of a cricket ball, thats had the power of atlas, on a road in a part of the north.

Its stopped the passage of goods far and wide Leaving Supermarket Shelves Empty.

Wild horses pull up, as men from the ministry, stand with umbrellas motionless in rain, waiting for the magic machine to fill the hole.

Interested Observers are given direction, Diverted to a teacup or some other place As the traffic slows down and wheels come to a stop for a sausage barm and onions and HP Sauce.

Written 9th April 2010

The Morning Tram The Sun flies over Exchange Quay, passing blue windows as it goes, landing its beams on the loco, trundling round the bend.

Destinations Determined in One Mystical Triangle, A series of Stops and Starts, till the end of the line.

On and Off , they come and go the Schoolboy, the Nurse Tram trundles forward to Hospital and School Stopping to collect the next passing fare, Its carried along, like elastic bands, flicked between two friends A cake shop at one end, A railway the other, The Gateway to destinations further afield but for the morning tram as it reaches the end its journeys end.

Written 9th April 2010

Destination II (Metrolink) The round wheels turn on The lines of Iron Perpetual Motion from A to B. Destination Determined, The passengers alight at stations where places are shiny and bright.

Golden Carriages trundle away, Carrying passengers at work, passengers at play past trees of green and bricks of brown to the city, the quayside or market town Backwards and Forth, Fast and then Slow Passing its sisters with a toot Away we go, and then aboot as One line splits into three from A to B, to B to C Till at Last, The moments passed as Destination There becomes Here Written Friday, 09 April 2010

The Garden I'm sitting on a comfy chair looking at colours everywhere, the lawn is so green, the violets so blue, the marigolds yellow, I like those too!

In a corner is a spruce tree that's grown for a while as we planted it when i was a child.

There's a hole in the lawn, where clothes on a line dry in the sun in quick-fast time And resident birds roost up in the nest that’s in the trees high branches I would never have guessed!

On Patrol They're out on patrol again, You could call them - "The Flying Squad" Keeping the streets of Salford Quays Free from the menace of Breadcrumbs.

They can clean the walkway in five minutes flat saying to the other birds "What are you looking at?"

And the seagulls from elsewhere know not to get into a fight with the flying squad They'll get a fright!

(written 1st July 2010)

Temptation It sits there on the table, with a note by its side standing aloft like a guard with pride DO NOT TOUCH! says the label, by the cake on the table prepared by the three, made especially for tea.

But it's looking so nice just sat on its own you sneak into the kitchen, and your cover is blown.

You don't know that you have been seen and wander what it's like with custard or cream.

No one will know You think to yourself But then Dad comes in, and puts the cake on a shelf!

Written Thursday 1st July 2010

Manchester Midnight The Tram rolls in as the sun departs, Its days work is over.

Moon sitting proudly in the Manchester Sky, Overlooking parties passing by.

Shining its light over Concrete and Glass, the lights flicker in the distance, as the glitter ball twinkles to the final tune, and Maidens of the day, colourfully make their way into the night Stars shining Bright.

The sirens make noise in another part of town as cleaning crew vehicles, cover the ground.

The final bus has made its way, there's no more time to go and play.

So you're drinking a coffee in the late night caff talking discos with friends and having a laugh.

Written Wednesday, 30 June 2010

Northern Lights (A view of the Metrolink – from the view of its powerline) The Neon lights are shining overhead in a Northern sky.

Making a meal, of the wheels of steel, passing over the rails in the solid black road.

Passing through lights, of white, pink and green Electric lightbulbs lighten the scene.

Trams make a whistle, as the signals they pass Over the verges they pick up the grass.

Traffic lights shine, Red Amber and Green Allowing access of traffic between The Thunderous engines that shoot off like bolts Powered completely by my Powerful Volts Neon lights shining and guiding the way to the Chef from the restaurant, or Sisters at Play.

Metrolink (and its powerline!!!)

Written Wednesday, 30 June 2010

The Bracelets Lament I don't like rain.

It's wet and It's cold, Shining reflective on my coat of gold.

Here I lie, on the dune, with water beneath, the helpless victim of a seaside thief.

He grabbed me from my owner whilst she was playing at sea and flew off in the air for two minutes or three But the family of this Avian con, got over-excited at the find, hopping around, in their nest, with others of its kind.

I fell from a height, and with such great speed It left me in quite of a Muddle Still, the suns bright rays make me quite colourful, as i sit here in this puddle.

Written Wednesday, 30 June 2010

A selection of Haikus written on 24th June 2010 A Feline Haiku Cat sits in the tree Dreaming of treasure in the pond Awaiting the call

A Haiku Brew Tea from the far east turns water from lakes, west golden brown in the heat.

Sugar Cube Haiku Crystal-line. Formed from the beet.

Never tasted a thing so sweet.

One lump or two ?

A Colourful Haiku Coloured sticks in jars bring colour to charcoal scenes giving pictures life

A Nautical Haiku Clouds of white on blue Patterned sails flap in the wind Cutting through the waves

Imagination 2.2 (The Golden Tram)

The golden tram rolls on to Ladywell, rolling through places i know well, passing the places both new and of old, on a brand new tram of silver and gold.

I'm heading for BASIC and passing a scene, of flowers of blue and trees brown and green, holding fresh blossom of pink and of white lining the road they make quite a sight.

Lining the road of stations, brand new the blossoms and trees improve the view regeneration can be seen all around with the white bricked flats by apartments brown, Set in the place of the old bus depot, Metro stops line the way to go.

And I land at the centre in plenty of time, giving me chance to compose a rhyme, and i'm drinking a cup of tea brown and sweet at the cafe @ BASIC, it is quite a treat!

Written on Tuesday, 22 June 2010

Toast Toast (or Bread) Cooked by the heat of a thousand suns, Gently Warming the Soft White Bread (in its Sunbed) till golden brown.

Melted Yellow Butter fresh from the churn, Sinks Slowly waiting, for the arrival of the strawberry jam.

Written on 22nd June 2010

Oranges Oranges hang high in the big green tree, where they sit there, in the Turkish air, quite happily.

Till the time comes, when they are juiced in a press, or packed away in a box to another address.

Or they're turned into Jam, and potted in jars, to be spreaded on toast in Cafe's and Bars.

Written on 31st May 2010

The Red Fire Pump The red fire pump is at rest, it's done its best.

When the world was at war, and bombs fell to the floor.

The bombs spread out fires over concrete and grass, So the fire crews met round him and to the fires they'd amass extinguishing flames and stemming the damage The meal from the station is the most crews would manage Fire watchers looking to the skies in the air reporting to fire crews so they could prepare.

And the mighty pump emptied eighty pools in a day keeping the danger of fire at bay.

Another Imperial War Museum Painting - This time, The Dennis Fire Pump that belonged to the Ferranti Factory in Hollinwood

Written 17th June 2010

Night Time Night time falls over sleepy Salford skies, clock moving forward towards the dawn.

Cars move lonely, in solitary motion, they've got their all own road.

Overhead lights in yellow and white, Brighten the pathways, Lighten the night, for that late night purchase at the grocery store going inside for a quick bite overhead pilots landing their flight.

Sounds of the lorries over the ground, cut through the silence at the speed of sound. while the yellow lights flicker over the loam, for the Badger or Fox Making their way Home.

Written 22nd June 2010

Cosmopolitan The fashionistas arrive on the Quays In search of something other than Meat pie and Peas, As they pass the designers, and budget clothes shops Into the coffee houses, Off they hop.

Sitting on chairs of Leather and Wood Italian Styling - and all of its good.

The sandwiches fresh, The cookies so nice, The shakes are real sweet and so is the price.

Written 15th June 2010

The Canal The Large ditch on Salford's edge is filled with flowing water free flowing, but placid making its way to the west where it will meet with its Liverpool cousin.

It used to carry great ships carrying goods far and wide But the canal now has another side with boats in the basin carrying people, not things and the pleasure to visitors is what the canal brings with the hotel and football, museums and shops The canal keeps flowing and still doesn't stop.

Written 15th June 2010

The Road to Journeys End. The signs in the sky In Brown, White and Green, Are pointing a way, for the car from Afar telling them which way, they need to go down, Do they want the city ?

Or perhaps, nearest town ?

To head for the markets, the sport, or the trees or maybe the meadows, the lakes or the seas?

To go to the theatre and take in a show or go to a gallery and be in the know, Maybe learn about history, on the banks of the quays or Splash in some water way up to your knees?

Written 6th June 2010

Media City They're building glass palaces on the banks of the canal it’s not for the royals and isn't banal It's a place where peoples programmes will be written and played and hopefully where youngsters will act out a trade And Players from theatre will meet up with screen eating at restaurants placed in between Whilst films great and good Are made where they made great steak pies A new kind of recipes Where the factory’s future lies The building is local built up by the skilled trained by academies in City & Guilds Lancashire spirit poured into the place And Kids from the north Will be learning to play Their part in the drama A Stones throw away. the buildings near complete near end of the race and taken up by companies who create a reaction soon they'll be lights, camera and action!

Written 8th June 2010

Time Time is Golden, Hanging from the wrist or Maybe the wall.

Time is the grain of sand falling on the beach that tell you your breakfast is served on the patio ready to eat.

Time is an ever ticking clock The wheels that keep the hands turning a line between now and then Telling a tale to both young and old Endless and Never ending.

Time is a Target, a number of seconds on the watch, watched by the referee or manager The China cup , waiting to be broken.

Time Never stopping, Going On, Starting early, and making people late.

Precious Moments, with the ones you love, Till the sand runs out, and the sun goes down, But Time moves on. (written 9th June 2010)

The Imperial War Museum North Another Earth has Landed on the banks of the canal, Broken in Three By the Hammer Called War. You climb the Stair To reach the pole As darkness Falls on earths remains Following a line, commemorating time that has a start - but has no end Sounds and smells from the past They Greet You, Shaking you by the hand like an old friend.

The plane at the start, the tales it would tell of its old friend Lusitania - they've salvaged its bell. just past the smell of sweet poison gas you carry on walking and pass the old ass.

The T-34 stands just round a bend, a stones throw away, from its nuclear friend, telling the tales of it winning great battles, the cossacks roar out as the tanks tracks it rattles And the trabant car from Germany stands out and tall as you read of what happened on both sides of th' wall.

Uniforms stand in the windows to attention, as you read of who wore them - it is worth a mention and you read of the colours, the flags of the men who are remembered here proudly, never seen of again.

And You wear the old hat worn by the men fighting the fires in fives and in tens, you land in their place and think what would you do, as you read of the stories from wars one and of two.

Night Shift The citizens of the morning have headed for bed with the fall of the setting sun, but the noise of the road, can be heard in the air with the night shift in town.

Giant Machines are cutting through great masses of steel picked up by magnets transported to assembly.

On the road are the Lorries Transporting Food with a greeting Or the managers on their way to a Morning Meeting.

And the Cyclist riding and sounding a bell, passing the fast food place, you can pick up the smell.

And the Night Owl awakes, whilst the others fall asleep and fish make a noise, from their home in the deep.

The Paralympians The sun arises on Manchester’s Mt. Olympus as the competition takes its place Paralympic athletes performing ...with precision and grace And the teams with skill with two kinds of ball are ready talking tactics in rooms across the hall In the pool are the swimmers With speed and with glide Swimming for Medals and points for their side.

Mighty athletes focused at the prize at hand as the chariots line up across the sand And the Blade Runners ready to run his chosen race his mind is clear - his only aim is to get gold and first place

Re – Build (Media City UK) They’re building grand spires at the new corporate base They’ve cleared out the site and vacated the space It’s got to be ready in time for the games In order for telly to show the big names The triumphant athletes who are going for Gold We’ll all be up watching by the gossip I’m told.

But before we do Auntie’s got to go powering forth And move her sporting department up North.

So we can watch a ceremony pass by an Arch On screens in the Quays we’ll watch them all March.