Journey of Words

Category: Poetry

  • Day 6

    Sat on the front doorstep, mug of tea to hand, the cool breeze is worth enduring for the joy of sun on my face. I listen to the birds, a buzzard’s cry easily distinguished above them all. No traffic, no aircraft. All that can be heard are these birds in song. Later a dog down →

  • On Time

    Stay awake. Awake! Fearful sleep steals precious hours Tomorrow’s dawn looms . CLP 24/03/2020 →

  • On Settling

    Hunter? Gatherer? For butterfly, dragonfly Movement essential . n.b. Saw a red admiral this morning as I sat on the front doorstep drinking a mug of tea. CLP 23/02/2020 →

  • Day 5

    The first sounds in the grey before light come from a crow; three croaky caws that disturb a pheasant. The wind has swung round again. Now from the south-east with bitterness unabated, it takes all the heat from the air. Sky is blue; the Sun piercing bright. In early afternoon, up on the track, two →

  • Lions, Lionesses and The Clown

    If this is war Why are we sending our troops into battle Without equipment? This is not Passchendaele When the blood of 275,000 Allied troops was sacrificed for nothing This is post-Brexit Britain when we have complete control So where is the PPE for our paramedics, our nurses and doctors? Boris, you are a wartime →

  • On the Sofa

    Sleep, awake, panting Shuffling, changing position Time to be let lie . n.b. Life cycles continue regardless. CLP 22/03/2020 →

  • Day 4

    Catkins, cast adrift from willows by gusting draughts, litter the garden. The grass looks as if plagued by woolly, dusty caterpillars that have emerged from below. The week’s washing flaps and tugs on the line. The wind has turned to the east. It bites at the skin and catches in the throat. Today the Spring →

  • On Sorting

    Memories barely Recovered; stirred into broth By tickets, trinkets . CLP 21/03/2020 →

  • Day 3

    Early to the heath accompanied by birds in full song. A red kite hangs above the oak trees trying to get a fix on breakfast despite the gusting northerly. Three other birds of prey wheel, hover, patrol the ridge. From the still sodden fields curlews agitated cries cut through melodies of dunnocks and robins; contrast →

  • Day 2

    Immersed in work online while your day with formal interaction progresses from tense to harrowing. Here grey, gloomy sky with occasional rain. I empty the compost bin into the black plastic Dalek composter that is alive with a tangle of fine, writhing, pink worms. Night comes early. Good night wishes exchanged by text. . CLP →