With pulsating rain The strengthening wind is drawn through The blackest of nights;The mist swirls ribbons Like the jet stream trailAnd the windows rattle;Droplets course down the blackened panes in little streamsPooling on the ledge As the latch lifts and falls And curtains move in oscillating rhythm While heavy slates lift and dropMaking the wholeContinue reading “Old House :Winter Night”
Tag Archives: poetry
It was his Birthday
Written is response to the http://www.ekphrastic.net for the ekphrastic challenge : Van Gogh Starry Night . It was his Birthday It was his birthday When thinking becomes joined up And is more than black and whiteIt was his birthday when the Lines of traffic merged in a continuous Stream somewhere along the A38 When electricContinue reading “It was his Birthday”
Sight
a fading picturethe optometrist works shining the light
Black and White
Cold sleet on old slate Grey air,grey stone.The world is black and white.
Storm through the Night
All through the night – relentless and totally dark. Our 375 year house sits on a high ridge and it does feel like we are sometimes under siege . A gusting windExhales in bursts The rain Like knives spears the darkRicochets off ancient walls.To the keeper of the keys. The pulsating nightDrinks in thirstThe slatesVibrateContinue reading “Storm through the Night”
Advent tide
Flurries of sleetRainbows and sunSlices of silverMirror the viewGolden the leavesSilently driftDownstream On Advent tide.
Surfing the clouds
Surfing the clouds on the golden edgeAbove huge swell of smoke hewn driftsThe sun just dips behind Where Icarus are you?The line of the moor an etched grim Line of no responseOminous in presenceLarger in formThe battle in the skies Set.
Fire Crested Sky
Fire crest Flame-thrower Streams ribbons Across the skyIn gold threaded tapestryA woven snakeskinA mackerel skyUnder silvered scalesThe winds of changeThe tide turnsThe gauntlet thrown down.
To be Out Early
Shafts of light filter through open treesDainty beads of colourOf dew-spangled jewelsThread through the bank,Winding a tapestry; Silence is Held on the breath of the windUntil murmurs and shuffles In the henhouse are heard And the spell is broken By a sharp blackbird call. Out early with whippet puppy – there are advantages – feelingContinue reading “To be Out Early”
Abandonment to Garden
Like Socrates,tread I barefoot on the ground Drink deeply, elixir of the soil Strengthened by every grain imbibedConnections rooted deeply from the coreThe elemental smell of rain- freed earthy spores that cleanse and heal;A living substrate made for growthIn simplicity, softly drawn withinWhere we, with nature, seemingly at one Are held,Protected by the earth andContinue reading “Abandonment to Garden”
My Devon Life 