In getting things wrong,In getting things right,We are changed and transformed;We are not who we wereTwelve months past,We have changed;He has changed us;We walk not aloneCast like boats adrift;Our stories His story.His presenceIn our presenceUnderpinningThe narrative, Affirming relationships One to anotherAt one with HimFor our journeyIs His journey.
Tag Archives: poetry
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”
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”
My Foot in Theirs
Orginally written for the Earle Richardson Ekphrastic Review Writing Challenge: https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic-writing-challenges My Foot in Theirs Could these be footprints long hardened in rock ? I wondered as I stepped on the mound; The lives once defined in the sand- coloured clay, Hard spent under the glare of the sun. I closed my eye to imagineContinue reading “My Foot in Theirs”
Tanka for Snow Moon
White disc in the sky Marbled face like granite hewn Elegance alignedBalanced over moorland ridgePersonified by sunlightIn celestial orb unveil.
Wild Flight of the Geese
Contours slip from a worldParallel and synchronised in beatAnd motion Their flight is straightSuspended in the voidHalf arrowed in formationSkimming the rooftopNear-grazing the slateMighty Hercules of the flight Heavy with beat of the wingNo navigation aid to site Still and blue Their playground isDriven on by diurnal forceOver the edge with Complete precision Tattooed wingChartsContinue reading “Wild Flight of the Geese”
Ruth Partridge 