Posted: February 9, 2016 in default
at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ we are meeting the challenge of writing a 44 word poem to include the word ‘lull’
Sky is beaten to the colour of slate,
brooding but briefly spent.
And for now the wind is nothing
more than a leaf-whisperer.
In this quiet the river clings to its bed,
trembling woods are still full of panic.
This lull will not last.
Posted: January 11, 2016 in Fault Line art, nature poems
This year sees a very exciting venture – a touring art exhibition based on my collection Fault Line and involving several artists ~ more details soon
This is the best seat in the amphitheatre.
It is not a place of sound. There are no streets
at your feet, life pulsing through them, a hive
whose permanently lit towers fracture a sky
where darkness never comes. This is not a city
hemmed in by noise of traffic, people, chatter,
the rattle-nest of a man-made empire
that denies the stars their right to burn their
own holes in the night. It is not a place
where the only streams are the ruby and diamond
glows of cars that never cease; a continual living
jewelled necklace threading through the whole.
This is a throne room – and only from here
can you see all three Welsh lords;
the Carneddau, the Glyders and Snowdon Horseshoe.
This is a place of granite and moss scents.
Of silence and air.
So much air.
Moel Siabod by artist Jo Mortimer
Posted: December 4, 2015 in Fault Line
This is from my recently released debut collection, Fault Line published by Lapwing (you can click on the link to the left to order a copy) and was inspired when found my copy of Ring of Bright Water that I bought in 1963.
Still legible on the first foxed page
of a Ring of Bright Water.
The mark of a boy
50 years ago, stepping
gingerly into an adult’s world
of inky flourishes.
Now it’s bold, self-assured
A set style for so long,
the first two letters.
A dance in black ink, leaning
into a headwind of years.
the page’s right edge.
Posted: August 18, 2015 in default
at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ we are writing about school days. As my old reports testify, they were not the best days of my life!
Behind the door
‘This will not do’
are not memorable years
‘Could do better’
Frustration pulsating on both
sides of the desk.
‘Disappointing set of results’
No strands threading through
to the me
in the now.
on a classroom potter’s wheel.
‘Quickly loses interest’
All those opinions are locked away
in an attic. Dust gatherers.
Under examination it is clear
we all missed the mark.
Posted: August 11, 2015 in default
at http://dversepoets.com/this-is-us/ today we are dipping into history and the world of nameless artists
Light is yours to command.
You will use this energy,
casting burning into shadows
where it scatters black into fearful places
leaving it to tread lightly across
mercurial paths. Opening furnace doors
you allow molten photons to pour
shaping and reshaping into colours
that cling to your eyes.
With brush and sight
you weave patterns
pulled from nebulae
that have been created
by a sorcery above thinking
You sit spent in dark, head on chest
your name locked in the brush
that hangs limp in your hand.
Posted: July 4, 2015 in nature poems
This is for the Flash 55 Challenge @ http://withrealtoads.blogspot.se/ – a poem of exactly 55 words ..
Life and death,
bleached on to this peaty moonscape.
Here it is elemental.
Moor and sun,
a harsh unforgiving beauty.
Knuckle on knuckle.
Each notch etched clear
in its whiteness.
Simplicity of structure in
the chaos of wilderness.
This is where it all ends.
Bone and earth.