Journey of Words

Category: Poetry

  • Day 14

    The wind has dropped and on the way to the shop, the air feels soft. The birds seem to be less agitated in the hedgerows and bushes on the way down to the village shop. There are still only a few leaves on the thorn bushes and their spikes glint in the rising sun’s light →

  • Breaking Wave

    A gentle undulation swells Soon noticeable from land Catches eyes of pebbles That slowly turn, drawn to the scene Expectation of the burgeoning bump builds The ocean cannot contain the power moving within Pushing at its rounded surface A large, complacent gull senses his peaceful drift is ended Lifts up at a shift in form →

  • Day 13

    The rhythm of the day is beginning to lose its pattern. Middle of night interruptions to sleep come without pressure to return to dreamland. Distance from others is becoming accepted; is there any point going out there? Eschewing television as formulaic, lacking originality, dull, I choose to listen to music. Lyrics bore me. Orchestral compositions, →

  • Memoried

    Picked up as a tale Dusted off; polished to taste Presented as Truth . CLP 30/03/2020 →

  • On Separation

    Boxed heart stays constant Old fears prowl; rattle casket Rhythm misses beat . Contactless eyes dumb Imagination finds voice Tremors felt in gut . Misunderstandings Fill up conversation voids Muddy evidence . Dig gently for truth Listen to answers; reflect Retire to consider . Never forget this: Distance forms Hall of Mirrors; Boxed hearts stay →

  • Update on “Lions, Lionesses and The Clown

    29th March, 2020 and still health workers are not able to get the kit they need to stay safe and nurse the sick. Two NHS doctors die of Covid-19 Lions, Lionesses and the Clown can be read here. CLP 29/03/2020 →

  • Something

    Too much time on my hands Sorting out photos You came back into view From a time we shared focus . With vision now sharper Fog lifted from lens I see something was wrong Even back then . CLP 29/03/2020 →

  • Day 12

    British Summer Time, the forward shift of clocks by an hour, has blown in on a gale straight off the North Sea. Hailstones are spat at the window. Some of the ice pellets stick before slipping slowly; disintegrating as they slide, leaving a tear stain on the pane. The hazel bush flexes in the gusts, →

  • Day 11 – After Noon

    Briefly outside, but I’m driven back by the falling temperature. The grey sky gave way to blue eventually, but there was no warmth in the sunbeams. There seems little enthusiasm today in the birds’ calls. The greenfinches are the only ones heard throughout the day, but even they lack energy. A picture is sent by →

  • Day 11

    Awoken at 04:30 hrs. First dim light of the new day. A stag bellows from the wood on the hill. Tree branches, unsteady in the stiffening northerly wind, emit a low, irregular moan. Behind this lies the slow-motion rush of heavy waves breaking hard on the shingle. Then the long draw as the sea inhales →