A rush of air sucks breath
From the lungs
The stride shortens
Head lowers
I dig deep
Peppered by bullets
Of shrapnel as hail
Stings the face
And skims
The tops of the hedges
And turn into
The sunken lane
Where primroses hide
Like
Porcelain tea cups
On rattling shelves
And acid celandine
Stands askew
With bent petals
Made ragged by last night’s
Storm
Not yet spent
Violets creep close to the ground
As the roar in the trees above
Drowns all other sound
And the low sun peeps
From under the veil
Of inky grey.
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 find myself with phrases turning in my head. Observations of the year are in these pages – many on nature and rhythms of the year and other musings.
We Were Warned
Hail ricochets the window
With trembling and vibration,
Coursing through the bed frame
Like a road worker’s drill;
The storm pursues its path,
Relentless as its intent;
We were warned
The forecast said;
As in the darkness
Spring is torn from its bed
Sap is centrifuged in stems
Anchored roots are tested;
The ash will give up branches
Of buds which will never open
To be repurposed
As spring will rebuild
Renewed.
For now there is nothing
But to listen,
To lifting slates
And to thundering rhythms
And things being carried
Into the night.
Composition
Life’s juxtaposition
Units lacking alignment
We move in concentric circles
Following circadian rhythm
Or 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 through rooms like chess in play
I make my way across the board
With stealth
(Sometimes it’s luck)
I compose a thought
And find my path.
Written originally for the Ekphrastic Review
Forecast
A sheltered spot
A glimpse of spring
Deep in the Cornish valley
A sheltered spot-
Belied the hope.
Yet overnight the frost
Strikes sharp
Though clear the day
Weak the sun
Firm ground to walk
The East wind dries
As forecast tells
Of storms and gales
The weathervane slows
And ambles round
The jet stream pattern
Sets the scene
Of change.
Trees under low sun
Liquid gold drips off ringed branches
Intense the molten sun at end of day
Projects its show against the
Naked form of larch
The boughs laden with golden tresses
Adorned with necklaces of amber
Crisp the air
An hour from dusk.
Light
If all around the sphere
We call home seems to be
About to fall from the sky
And through shielded palms
Watch
We who fearful are
The ever changing tide
Will seek to overwhelm
All thought and reason
Yet if we stop awhile
And look above
A strength of blue defines
The stratosphere
Whilst blue is day
And sun is warmth
Hope comes from light
That light is love.
Haiku :So shy are the Doves
So shy are the doves
Cloud- soft and gently watchful
With bright beaded eyes.
Black and white world
Like gravel and rock
Scars on the land
The year is
Etched and engrained
Colour drained
Leeched away
The world in
Monochrome folds
Inwardly
Unrecognisable in
twelve long months
Hardly recognising itself in
Its present form
But resolute it is and stoic
As one huge oiled
Machine it slowly burgeons forth
And cogs start to turn
And with them white
to colour
Splashed here and there
And slowly, very slowly
It turns from monochrome.
Haiku -Unfurling
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 .
Ruth Partridge 