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.
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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.
Light
If all around the sphereWe call home seems to be About to fall from the skyAnd through shielded palmsWatchWe who fearful areThe ever changing tideWill seek to overwhelmAll thought and reasonYet if we stop awhile And look aboveA strength of blue defines The stratosphereWhilst blue is dayAnd sun is warmthHope comes from light That lightContinue reading “Light”
Haiku :So shy are the Doves
So shy are the dovesCloud- soft and gently watchfulWith bright beaded eyes.
Black and white world
Like gravel and rock Scars on the landThe year isEtched and engrainedColour drainedLeeched away The world in Monochrome foldsInwardly Unrecognisable in twelve long monthsHardly recognising itself in Its present formBut resolute it is and stoic As one huge oiled Machine it slowly burgeons forthAnd cogs start to turnAnd with them whiteto colourSplashed here and thereAndContinue reading “Black and white world”
Ruth Partridge 