Mother Nature fell asleep thinkingand her thoughts became dreamsinto rich, dark soil sinking. Nothing in this world is ever as it seemsand her fantasies took root,watered by rain and underground streams. By spring, the roots had given birth to shootsthat sought the warmth of the sun,and the shoots grew and began to produce stalks and […]
Tag: Tuesday Poetics
Late Developers
Those late developers stare with dull, black, accusing eyes,pale leaves still strive for the sun’s weakening rays, flowers that should track summer shiver into autumn days. Might they warm themselves on their own golden gaze? Still closed in sulky pouts in early morning haze,have they the strength to open in a blaze? Time casts longer shadows, […]
Self-Portrait with Hands
They have teased music from a classical guitar, woven brightly dyed wool into a winter knit, and pencilled themselves into a sketch. They cover my face now, as I pose before a speckled, frameless mirror tucked away, out of sight, under the stairs. She’s there, somewhere in the shadows, the one whose fingers plucked and […]
On the Soft Skin of the Underside
In the days of physical elasticity,instant sparks of electricityand youthful hunger,whether in daylight, twilight or moonlight,lips and teeth tended to tattoo and collide on the soft skin of the underside. Now I love to tangle in the copper hairon forearms, chest and belly, wherewinter frost has started to appear,but it is on the soft skin […]
Wheatfield with Crows
His paint oozed solitude and sadness. The turbulent brush almost fell from his hands. He knew it so well, this field of rude life and death, its diverging blood-rusted paths leading to the same horizon. The violent polarity of yellow field of wheat daubed in rows and blue sky smudged with clouds erupts with black […]
Feet to the Stars
You asked for a clean slate, one with your own face on, and a rainbow of colours to brighten up your frown. You tried so many different smiles, noses and eyebrows, a range of wigs and hats, but it wasn’t until you turned upside down, with your hands planted firmly on the ground and your […]
In the Frame
On this August day, the breeze ripples green leaves in the quince, plum and willow trees, buffeting an army of tall stinging nettles. Inside the shed, greyed by weather and age, the brambles are uprising, sharp-thorned and striving to escape; they’ve broken a window and are prising the door from its frame. A white plastic […]
Brent Geese in Autumn
By mid-October, large flocks of dark-bellied geese grate and grumble across grey sky, ticking clouds with wings. They descend on the estuary and spend all winter pecking at eel grass and remains of corn. Their noisy nasal honks pierce autumn twilight like a foghorn, belying the beauty of their flight and the delicate embroidery of […]
Spinning
that feeling of childhood revolution with both arms outstretched and the whole world condensed into horizontal lines of a spinning top when you dare yourself to look up at a sky that’s about to pop think you’ll never stop and then you drop onto a grassy spot you roll over among daisies and the world […]
That Look
I sat among the guests on bales of prickly straw, the afternoon sun hot on heads and backs, the expanse of Tuscan sky a perfect blue. And so, daughter, were you, perfect in your wedding dress, in your hands a pastel bouquet and single flower in your hair. I admit, I shed a tear, feeling […]
writing in north norfolk 