We Two to Play

We Two to Play

We two, into woods we step,
Out of sun, struck from light,
We two, hand in hand,
Into the secrets of green,
And damp mustard scents,
Into fronds of ferns,
And sullen fallen trees,
Into worlds unknown that
Turn on bewitched spindles,
Thistled needles spinning tales.
We two, into woods we step,
Playing on our imaginations.

A Spoon and a Sea View

A Spoon and a Sea View

He loved the sea; it coaxed him to wear
that old woollen salt-scented sweater.
She loved it, too, but for different reasons.
It was a cranial irrigation, cleared out all
those pesky worries like wind blowing
away fog. And so she sat, pulled a slightly
bent spoon from her jacket pocket, leaned
against the rocks and breathed in scents
of pink rockroses, and then pushed that
spoon into a jar of Nutella. She ate it all.

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Written for Margo’s Poem Tryout 

Rusty Memories

RustyMemories_30Sept14

Rusty Memories

The smell of burning leaves.
It’s autumn. It weaves notes
into dull wind, mutes fife
notes, and life is wicked away
on broad stretches. Memories.
Like an old maid’s bloomers.
And swept skirts on pavements.

This season hurts.
Makes my head pine.

But the trees are still greased.
A memory of ants that grew
wings and flew away in July.
Memories like those stuck
fast in the passenger seat
of Mr Harper’s rusting Fiat.
Rusty memories. Autumn.

 

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Adieu to Miz Q’s month of prompts and also
Creative Bloomings. “Mix and Match”

 

An Ode: Long the Reach of Winter’s Tree

winterTree

An Ode: Long the Reach of Winter’s Tree

Long the reach of winter’s tree,
gristled hard on wind it be,

Frost that bites like dog, a fiend,
cut sharp into ice unseen,

Blow snow on a sparrow’s wing,
and shiver off any hope of spring,

Blizzard blinds in hedges white,
light candles, sway in warming light,

Gnaw on bones, sip on prayers. We fled
this winter in the dead of night.

 

 

 

 

 

Written for Miz Q Day 29, An Ode

A Postcard from Poland

Day28_postcard

Dear Dora,

Dad found coffee that he says he can drink,
so we’re spending the next three days here.
He says he’s fed up with roughin it, & he’s
not budging from that caf with the proper
cuppa coffee. Looks like we’ll be in Poland
longer than expected. Love Edna xx

(ps, I bought a new fly swatter yesterday.)

 

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Miz Quickly’s Day 28, A Postcard

A Gossamer Dance

spider_tables-and-chairs-007

A Gossamer Dance

Spin me dizzy on your spool’s head,
spidered rim and spokes on skeleton legs.
This summer is quite undone – knotted
spider threads and spinneret ends.
So spin me ‘til I’m dizzy,
into a spider’s fluid waltz,
dance me on a red-rust bridge
on your gossamer reach.
Little spider running,
your citadel to stitch,
tell me why you’re feared
by some more than Death.

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Written for Miz Quickly Day 27 “Insects”

Photo (c) C. Gunther @Kitchens Garden

Rumour Rumour

Rumour Rumour

There’s a wildfire in the room,
a monger of perspective,
rumour rumour,
ignore what you have heard, words with punch,
and hearts that viciously mill,
rumour rumour,
keep your head up high, stiff upper lip.
If you can’t beat them, join them -
Fire with fire, help spread
That rumour rumour

Miz Q Day 26

Jumped Like Popcorn

Parakeet Blues

Jumped Like Popcorn

She fell for those parakeet blues,
those emperor jade eyes
before she knew his name. Fell
right into his smile, those lines
that teased her skin
like a bacon’s sizzle.
Her heart jumped like popcorn,
and the poor girl was lost.
And that was just the half of it.

 

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Written for Red Wolf Poems, We Wordle#27
words: bacon trance skin track popcorn emperor

 

 

 

When Nothing Is Too Much

TooMuch

When Nothing Is Too Much

We never danced hot like that before,
and we probably shouldn’t talk about it.
We don’t tell everything to everyone.

Life’s a bit like that, too. There’s a lot
of it to have, but you don’t get all of it,
and we don’t talk about that either.

Just as well, I reckon, although
sometimes all that not talking, well,
it gets a bit too, too much. Ya know?

 

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Written for Miz Quickly Day 25 “Too too much”
Image Saigon Street. G. Ng. WikiArt, Commons