Category: Poetry & Verse

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Burning Eyes

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Eyes that burnt burnt for you burnt for me flames devoured everything emotions, dreams a vision of joy of someone given someone so special. Eyes seared with pain a blurred vision of an opaque appearance fleeting glimpses through falling droplets from a river of sadness. Those dreams melted faded away with the passing of time slipping slowly out of reach outstretched fingers frantically grasping for the life that would soon be a memory. Those eyes burned all hope diminished no lies told. The fire continued to flicker the flame will never dim the memories will forever glow in the embers … Continue reading Burning Eyes

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Thought Garden

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In the haphazard garden, the confusing jungle of shapes, textures, aromas and images, thoughts drift, linger, and drift again. Like the cat, ginger and white fur prowling, slinking in and out, brushing through the undergrowth, until the seeds of delight are found, planted with a sigh, in the straight channels, of a freshly turned bed, and the page is printed. Inspired by the poem ​Thought Fox​ by Ted Hughes (1957) Continue reading Thought Garden

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A Winter Walk Revisited…

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We were out on our daily thirty minute walk in the winter sunshine. The time of the afternoon we squinted, dazzled as we were heading into the low sun. But I would rather be blinded by the sun than to not see the blue sky or any brightness at all. There is a freshness to the air when the day is clear at this time of the year and it filled me with positivity and hope.  When the green is all around and blue high above I walk with a smile and the girl I love Dangling catkins, the first … Continue reading A Winter Walk Revisited…

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The Storm Concerto

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High notes of the harp fine plucking against the window pane cascading ripples to the lower strings a volume increase a tempo change the timpani rumbles a warning grumble the black-grey opens with a rattling of sticks against the snare drums edge before the drum is beat hard as heavy rain falls and the xylophone joins the band with dissonant chords and cymbals clash adding to the cacophony. When tyres swish through the flowing mass then abruptly swept is an invisible baton bringing to an end with a sudden halt all but the cymbals and harp the fluttering of strings … Continue reading The Storm Concerto

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A Field No Longer

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Even the ash tree trunks standing on top of the bank at the gardens edge are unable to hide the expanse of rust-stained green from the window of the bedroom he slept in as a boy. From this same window a once pleasant view of fields and trees, farmers on tractors, cows that scattered when the neighbourhood kids played football where they grazed. He sometimes woke early in this boyhood room  to watch the sun rise from behind silent trees silhouetted on the horizon, the sky a warm orange glow. The sunrise seems later these days, it now has to … Continue reading A Field No Longer

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Please, Mr Banksy

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Paint me another red balloon please, Mr Banksy paint it with a longer string and tie it around my wrist so that it won’t escape from my little fingers and float into the sky to become a tiny dot that disappears forever; and please Mr Banksy don’t paint the wind, let it be still so that my hair doesn’t cover my eyes and my dress doesn’t flap around my knees and if the string becomes undone my new balloon won’t blow away. Continue reading Please, Mr Banksy

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If I Were A Tree

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If I Were A Tree where would I spread my roots? where would I spend my seasons? where would my leaves shoot? In that field over there you know, the sloping one that the boy lays down in on summer days when the sun goes in and out, in and out and he makes creatures out of the clouds and sees crocodiles and dogs and wizards with pointy hats that turn into  into wisps of cotton wool nothingness. Yes, that is the field the one you can see from your bedroom window the field that slopes down to the stream, … Continue reading If I Were A Tree