Each of us has a storyTo tell A map of our life In each of our cellsIn the way that we move In the people we seeIs calmness evident To the people we meet?Is clarity seenWhen doubt prevails?Does persona encourage Or do we doubt ourselves?When I’m sad, I don’t scream and shout,‘I’m fine,’I say andContinue reading “Stories”
Author Archives: ruthpartridge
Through Lent in Pandemic
In getting things wrong,In getting things right,We are changed and transformed;We are not who we wereTwelve months past,We have changed;He has changed us;We walk not aloneCast like boats adrift;Our stories His story.His presenceIn our presenceUnderpinningThe narrative, Affirming relationships One to anotherAt one with HimFor our journeyIs His journey.
Soar on the Wing
We cannot soar on the wing likeThe buzzard But wordsTumble freely And carry clarity On the trail of the wind;We cannot travel from far from homeBut like pulsations in heart-flowPhrases cross seas and oceansSetting people’s hearts aglow.
Words
With few words More is spoken;Stories layered with meaning Shaped to carefully chosen prose,Painted figuratively stirring feeling;Words -though blameless in their form-Do heavy fall when wrong tone Chosen;Words coined and light of touchLike feathersSoftly laytheir whispers, Covering hurt with gentle healingRaising smiles,Laughing,joking,Teasing-Living.
Squally March Afternoon
A rush of air sucks breathFrom the lungsThe stride shortens Head lowers I dig deepPeppered by bullets Of shrapnel as hailStings the faceAnd skimsThe tops of the hedgesAnd turn intoThe sunken lane Where primroses hide Like Porcelain tea cupsOn rattling shelvesAnd acid celandineStands askewWith bent petals Made ragged by last night’s Storm Not yet spentVioletsContinue reading “Squally March Afternoon”
Anthology
Running in the Slow Lane Here is the link to my book. Never had I expected to write enough to publish a book but I have found myself doing so as I have come to love the written word. Playing with words has become as natural as looking out of the window and I findContinue reading “Anthology”
We Were Warned
Hail ricochets the windowWith trembling and vibration, Coursing through the bed frameLike a road worker’s drill;The storm pursues its path,Relentless as its intent;We were warned The forecast said;As in the darknessSpring is torn from its bedSap is centrifuged in stemsAnchored roots are tested;The ash will give up branchesOf buds which will never openTo be repurposedContinue reading “We Were Warned”
Composition
Life’s juxtaposition Units lacking alignment We move in concentric circlesFollowing circadian rhythmOr randomly stake position; Do we strive to find common ground Security in similarity Or defined by individuality?Free radicles are we who find our way through choice I trace the rainbow through the rain The drops which slip down the glass I move throughContinue reading “Composition”
Forecast
A sheltered spot A glimpse of spring Deep in the Cornish valleyA sheltered spot-Belied the hope. Yet overnight the frost Strikes sharp Though clear the day Weak the sunFirm ground to walk The East wind driesAs forecast tellsOf storms and galesThe weathervane slowsAnd ambles roundThe jet stream patternSets the sceneOf change.
Trees under low sun
Liquid gold drips off ringed branchesIntense the molten sun at end of day Projects its show against the Naked form of larch The boughs laden with golden tressesAdorned with necklaces of amberCrisp the airAn hour from dusk.
Ruth Partridge 