The glow of evening
Gives way to the light of the dawn
Scant five hours of night.
Setting sun far West
Rising to the North East ridge
A summer alignment
Our cockerel crows at 4!
Evening
Rippled the line of a contour meets the sky
Draws red to black, a thread of contrast in defining clarity
Binding the heavens to the earth.
Beside the fence those bovine forms
Contemplative in reverential pose
Synchronise the sweetened breath
That softly steams from their
Swelling frames
Joining the outline
Binding the heavens to the earth.
Quiet their presence there
And quiet our presence too.
To that
Familiar is the view but one we rarely
Share
In favour of our preoccupation
Behind the walls
Habitual in routine
Tonight
The heat of the day is given up
In dissipating dust
Striations
Of orange glow
Binding the heavens to the earth
Ethereal
The crescent moon
And the evening star are lifted in celestial stance
Perfected in alignment
And the eye is feigned to touch the edge
Of heaven
As dew is drawn through the stems
Beneath our feet.
Art inspired by My Poem ‘Compline‘
Can you imagine my surprise to receive an invite to a college exhibition where my poem ‘Compline’ had inspired 200 year 8 students?
So glad I made the effort to attend and a huge Thankyou to their teacher at Eggbuckland Community College. I taught Cheryll 33 years ago and she was inspired by my praise to eventually become a teacher herself.
Chasing the clouds
Chasing the clouds
To the edge of the veil
Worth every minute
Sun drenched and dry
A few hours to breathe the clean air
From within.
Finding Meaning
Impossible task
Stretched across the table
In a ball of wool
Bound by lack of skill
And diminishing hope
A fragmented memory serves to tease
Pockets of knowledge out
Which below the cortex sit
(Like the cat from under the bed)
Just out of view
Effort and frustration combine
To hit a wall of black
And white
The instructions on the page
Fade and blur
Before my eyes
Into obscurity.
Squinting
To pluck the print
To imprint it’s stencil
To charge the neuron
A last onslaught to make connection.
Before willingness is lost.
Of Watchful Eyes
When I look across at Southwestern hills
The sky is drawn-
A grey line against white;
A seam to divide and conquer;
Furtive, are the calls of woodland birds
That signal premature erasure of light;
Here the winding woodland path
Descends through dense and deepening foliage
Of covert growth
In near darkness
The grass here still wet;
A heavy earthiness
Cloaks the air with
Primordial fungal spores;
In this black and white world
A stealth is felt
Of watchful eyes and creatures
Of the night
Set to stir and near.
We were warned the Forecast said…
We were warned the forecast said …
Yet there’s always a chance - a hope
That they’re wrong;
Weekends-
Held high over five days of graft
A goal pursued;
Plans? Not really
But garden themed-
To be out in the light - free to choose, to plant or weed -
Connect with the soil
I don’t ask for sun - I’m content with grey:
Grey sharpens green and the blues and reds.
But the grass must be cut
Clipped and even- I started last night on the near acre we have
And today it’s wet-not a short shower burst or light droplets that pulse;
We are in the cloud
At saturation point
Where water has pooled and humidity high
It weighs down the
Branches so low that snare as I pass
Spraying droplets effortlessly
Soak from the start
And my soles that kick water over grass
Tufted,uneven
And the border flops forward
Perennials for staking
Dead heading a pleasure
But not with a soaking
The greenhouse - a sanctuary
Though a constant drip
Rings as it misses its feed
To the guttering pipe
And the tools left out
All slimy and wet.
Cup of coffee I think
And evaluate.
Haiku -Unfurling
Delighted my poem appears today on Pure Haiku .
Unfurling by Elisa Ang
Written for Pure Haiku www.purehaiku.wordpress.com
Unfurling Beyond the fernery The window blurred and marbled Mottled fungal spores. Blurred edged and seamless The frond plays with dappled light Dust motes are dancing. Kaleidoscopic Jewels and beads thread easily Stitched on cotton cloth. Tie-dyed in pastel Colours mix in gentle hues Hung outside to dry. Spring sunshine floods in Caress of soft natural form Timeless joy well spent .
Seclusion at Dawn
Secluded, appears the garden at the Breath of dawn
Spun haze of lightest threads
Brush the skin webbed
Between pendulous leaves of towering summer growth,their arches Framing
Secret entries into hidden rooms;
Muted,the roses pop pastel dots like bunting draped with dropped confetti beneath,
Spilling over the abundance of fern green;
Statuesque,spires of hazy blue
Stand sentinel drawn through
Herbaceous plants juxtaposed
And still-
The mere breath of the wind
Is silenced and stilled.
Whispers of anticipation
Effervesce, mingling with the scent
Of honeysuckle and stocks
Residual and lingering in this
Place of solitude
Yet to be woken.
Mirrored the Surface
Mirrored the surface with stories to tell;
Play of light in marbled hues of blue;
Snake-line the glassy ground;
Cut clean lines over hidden currents
That shift in secret
Under the bend in the estuary mouth-
Devil’s Point
Separating the country from the
Great seafaring city
Of maritime fame,
With sinister depths and strange
Divisions of water churning,
Spiralling under;
No hint today all is still
Mirrored and held
In the breath of the wind.
No sail.
Ruth Partridge 