breakers of blossom
crash over grey slate rooftops
rising tide of spring
~
CLP 25/03/2023
on light
Tag Archives: Spring
on time
air soft as petals
white, yellow, pink, now red
floral procession
~
n.b. Carpets of snow drops, followed by primroses, above us cherry blossom, now quince in this hedge; bluebells shimmering in woodland next.
CLP 25/03/2023
on time
clarity of air
petals open in song-filled trees
light conquers darkness
~
n.b. Northern Spring Equinox arrives!
CLP 21/03/2023
on time
slow motion action
replay of last year's highlight
pink buds burst open
~
n.b. Even in the city centre, cherry blossom blooms.
CLP 15/03/2023
on time
slowed, I looked closer
petal tips of feathered spikes
rain drops add sparkle
~
CLP 06/03/2023
on colour
buds' initial burst
blood red splay reaches for light
hazel springs to life
~
n.b. Valentine’s Day, yesterday, the middle of February, which is noted in Slovenia as the day plants start flowering.
In Norfolk, England, the appearance of the sinister Jack Valentine (a man who traditionally goes about villages, knocking on back doors, before leaving sweets for children) is likely to be quite rare these days, but spring seems to have begun.
Long-tailed tits, blue tits and great tits all noticeably active in hedgerows and woodland.
CLP 15/02/2023
on time
whither do we head
come snow drops and daffodils?
can you hear bluebells?
~
n.b. The picture shows catkins, or “Lambs’ tails” as my mother knew them when she was growing up in the Fens.
CLP 13/02/2023
Aisling of the millpond
unseasonable warmth
petite clouds
white buds pinned to infinite blue
fine grass blades grass by the millpond
prick my pale winter skin
my flat weight crumples daisies
in cool shade
of the willow’s weeping
tumble of the waterwheel
low hum of bumble bees
chiffchaff
chiffchaff
chiffchaff
with eyes closed I see all
the birds I hear
from within this sonorous wall
soft notes
a woman’s song
so tired
so tired
so tired
my head so heavy it cannot turn
my eyelids stuck down by pinks and blues
my arms so heavy they will not move
my legs feel bound they cannot run
my voice clasped tight within my throat
I hear her singing
she sings of lilac
yet to bloom
she sings of lambs
not yet sprung
she sings of hedgerows
nestlings yet to fledge
she sings of the stream
yet to flood
she sings of oak
still to leaf
she sings of the summer
yet to burn
she sings of two lovers
yet to meet
she sings of harvest
we’ve yet to reap
she sings of apples
we’ll collect
she sings of mists
that will rise from dew
she sings of the plough
that will tear the earth
she sings of crows
that will draw in the night
she sings of frost
that will veil the soil
she sings of the fireplace
as autumn leaves
so tired
so tired
so tired
slowly I wake
remembering
how far I must go
before I finally reach
my home
~
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Twenty-five prompt: write an aisling.
CLP 25/04/2022
Pigeons
Coops balanced
against each other
defying gravity
along the embankment
like sentry boxes
facing south
marking the entrance
to Sunderland
its beach
in April offered
a slice of
Siberia
Roker Park
the taste of bitter
defeat
~
n.b. NaPoWriMo 2022 Day Twenty-three prompt: a poem in the style of Kay Ryan. My kind of poem. I love April, when spring is vibrant, the weather cruel and football reaches its season end. This brief poem is based on a grim day out on 11th April, 1993, but hey, Sunderland stayed up that year, which was nice, for them.
23/04/2022
on time
go back, close the gate
leave the field of play secure
pretend it's over
~
n.b. Can you hear the scythe of the old man swishing through the long grass, or is it just a breeze catching the blossom?
CLP 28/03/2022
Voyage des Mots 