Tag: poet

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The Cobb Wall at Lyme Regis

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Another salty jaw rises, the gaping mouth widening as it arcs towards the ancient wall of Portland stone that snakes its way eastwards, a tumble of black granite boulders extending its protective reach. The jaw crashes down smashing onto the top of the sloping wall white teeth breaking onto centuries old rock that will not yield or sate the appetite of the ocean’s wild and relentless cavernous mouths that collapse into hissing torrents of saline saliva rolling back into the swelling anger readying itself to attack again and again. Continue reading The Cobb Wall at Lyme Regis

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The White Bridge

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A swerving ribbon of tarmac leads down to your humped back that stretches over a river hidden by the spring flood of mud-brown water spilled by broken banks. The river’s banks host summer picnickers each side of your ancient arch, children paddle in the upstream shallows, and skim flat stones beneath you that bounce out the other side. Nearby cows graze undisturbed while others lap at a stony shore. In the autumnal after-storm sun your white railings gleam. Visitors return, once again standing on your back watching the fast flowing river journey under your aged stonework, heading  towards the unseen … Continue reading The White Bridge

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The Midnight Drive

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Being blinded by the early evening sun, I drove into the hospital grounds, searching for a space, any space in which to squeeze my car; this seemed such a long time ago as I stood in the dark, with space all around and only one vehicle to be seen – which was mine. I had entered the hospital grounds in sunlight but left under emptying clouds; I did not want to leave my son back there, struggling to survive, fighting for air. Go home the nurses said, go to bed, get some rest, come back fresh in the morning. Where … Continue reading The Midnight Drive

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Four Matches

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‘I done it,’ he called up the stairs. ‘I used four matches – all at once,’ he added. I zipped up and charged down, a deep bass drum pounded inside my chest, and there it was, in all of its flickering amber glory, growing, climbing the sooted chimney, before my white-soled sandal stomped its frightened authority on paper and kindling. As it crackled and spat, and fire clung to my scarred sole, extinguished only by a dance on the tiled hearth, and I asked, ‘What d’you do that for?’ And my little brother replied, ‘Coz you couldn’t do it with … Continue reading Four Matches

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My Only Home Town

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Walking the streets in the small country town I see memories in each pavement crack, all the fun and laughter the here ever after in the place I know as my only home town. I could have stayed but decided to leave memories of my own in the place that is my one and only home town. The river flows past my old country town I hear the ghosts as laughter floats by beneath the white bridge where we played in the sun beside the place I know as my only home town. I should have stayed I decided to … Continue reading My Only Home Town

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Waking

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When he opened his eyes to a snow-tipped peak the only love of his life is missed those sparkling mountain tops all hikers seek brought to life her eyes and the lips he once tenderly kissed. His lids lifted to a tranquil blue lake still as ice before the day had begun early birds soared high, no sound did they make all day he would mourn, beneath the warm sun. The rays slashed colour across the wide skies horizon of purple, orange and pinks an unused pillow drew tears from his eyes the bed’s icy space, his heavy heart sinks. … Continue reading Waking

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A Dream World?

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A world was built in violence, that became a creation of beauty, of peace to become a habitat for all living creatures. A home was built a sanctuary for coexisting, for loving each other not a place for hate. A sadness pervades much that has been built homes become squalid, destroyed  sanctuary becomes a danger peace becomes war. But… we build again a home a sanctuary a peace loving world, and hope and pray that hate will become an extinct word of nightmares. Continue reading A Dream World?

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A Perfect Imperfection

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Even his imperfections were perfect perfect imperfections made in such a way that the imperfections the… disfigurements, flaws, deformities were all perfect they blended, contrasted, merged to create a flawless whole. Imperfections that were incompatible opposed to life unsuited to the here and now not in accord with the there and then. The perfect imperfections took flight became what they could not be his journey was short but a perfect one became… eternal. March It was such a long time ago. The pain once felt is a thing of the past yet when I think about him, my special little … Continue reading A Perfect Imperfection