The veil a lifting remnant isCloaks the valley far below Strength of wind And storm blown leaves Fall and scatter Drift like snowAll around tall planting fallenAutumnal feel the garden wearsLate summer stakes it’s claim of sunLast flush of colourLifts our cares
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Storm – precursor or remnant?
A loud soughing in the treesWakes us earlyA storm precursor with Sudden intensity Straining branches which bend and rockLeaves are wrung out likeHandkerchiefs on the lineFallingMist cloakes- a wall of white The wind buffets the houseUntil a sudden stillnessAs it drops.The veil is lifting Then it starts overWith a lion’s roar.
If I could stem the Flow of Time
If I could stem the flow of time;Could halt the fading of a flower;Let effervescence bubble in my handTrace comet tails through a meteor shower;Oh to see her run again along the sand;Over dunes to plunge to the turquoise sea;Salt fresh,in wind-flapped ears and tail;To walk, to run,to be free.
White Sands and Turquoise Sea
Never has a dog walk been this good . The dogs loved it, especially Pepper the Whippet, who has difficulty walking far. She loved stretching out on the white sand. It was a joy to paint this scene .
Shorelines
The light over the Sound of Mull was beautiful, turning grass yellow . Totally quiet and peaceful .Not a breath of wind .
Sidmouth Poetry Reading
It was such a privilege to be invited to speak at Sidmouth Poetry Society
Chatter in the Eaves
A muted stirring in the greynessSoft chatter in the eavesRestless whistles that are muffledNo sound of a breezeA sharper sound grates in urgencyPunctuates the linePulsations on a single note The caller is definedIn minutes the sky is lightenedGrey turns to tinge of blueDay hangs briefly in a balanceNight’s silence ensues.
Love walks alongside
A smudge of ashIn return to dustFrom dust to creationIn the potter’s handsIn frailty we tread Though never aloneWe are held by love.Love walks alongside.
124 years ago they stared
People stared at the camera unaware that 124 years later we would stare at them as we scroll on Instagram Mesmerised we scroll through sunken faces Strange innocence behind those haunting eyes For they have known more hardshipThan our countenance affords usAnd we intrigued can only wonder why? Would they have ever envisaged that weContinue reading “124 years ago they stared”
In Quietude
In quietude Day by day Change in subtlety stirs As textures fillAnd colours spill Before our eyes
