Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Harbour

Image from Wiki Commons taken by RevDave and used under the Creative Commons Agreement

I have a dream where the dusk is falling
And I can hear the sound of the sea birds calling.
The wind is soft and the air is warm,
The storm has passed and the sea is calm.
The fishers are home on the turning tide,
Their boats tied tight to the harbour side.
The steps lead down to the quay below,
Clean and safe in the lamp's soft glow.
Just step, I know, on the wide, stone stair.
Just step, in the soft and dreamy air.
A gentle path to a solid quay.
And a harbour safe waits there for me.

Friday, 2 October 2015

I want to fling my cup
I want to hurl it at the wall
I want to watch the tea dripping
I want to see the dark fluid staining
the bland, blameless wallpaper
I want to see the fragments
rattle and tinkle across the floor

I sit and primly sip
Waiting to be released.

Saturday, 5 September 2015

Displacement

The cupboards need cleaning, I'll turn them all out,
 I can check all the contents and move stuff about.
I'll rotate the cans of the sweetcorn and beans
And won't have to think what a eulogy means.

This floor is disgusting, I'll get it scrubbed clean.
I can move out the chairs and sweep in between.
I can polish the legs of the table and sink.
I can scour and rinse and I won't have to think.

The table needs moving, it's in the wrong place
And tablecloth's edged with the wrong kind of lace.
It all needs renewing or at least turning out,
Which means no time to think what tomorrow's about.

I've dusted the top of the doorway and door,
I've counted the candles and twice mopped the floor,
Tomorrow's the funeral, but I've no time to think,
As it's far too important to scour out the sink.  

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Frost on the Moon

Frost on the Moon


There's a frost on the Moon

The cold, shivery light is tumbling down and the frost comes with it
It gleams as it slides over the twiggy trees

There's a frost on the Moon

I rest my hot, hot face against the cold, cold bedroom window glass
The heat of the argument ebbs out into the cool, clear night

There's a frost on the Moon

The street is silent and pools left from this morning's rain
Reflect back at the empty sky and the falling frost edges them

There's a frost on the Moon

The silence is scattered by a strolling cat
As the knocked can rattles into the empty street

There's a frost on the Moon

The frost is falling and slipping down the street
My hot heart's pain fades and drains as I watch


There's a frost on the Moon

Sunday, 6 July 2014

Measuring Up

Light and Shade's latest Challenge inspired me with this.

Image courtesy of freeimages.co.uk

'So how long is it?'
'It's 183cm, hold the tape still, mummy.'
'And how high is it?'
'It's 74cm.  Mummy, please hold the tape still.  Miss said you need to hold tapes still for an accurate measurement.'
'Is this okay?'
'You're not holding it straight, mummy, and that affects the measurement.  Miss said you have to hold tapes straight to get an accurate measurement.'
'How about that?'
'Thank you, mummy.  Please measure 91.5cm to the centre and 15cm out from that point on each side.'

I sighed and carried on with the most accurately constructed cardboard box den ever.  

Tuesday, 1 July 2014

I Kept My Word

Here is my response to this Monday's Light and Shade Challenge.  I had the advantage of finding the quotation, but I didn't expect it to come out this way.  The quotation is:

"Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word," he said.
- Walter de la Mare, The Listeners

'Tell them I kept my word,' he said
As the storm clouds gathered overhead
With the setting sun tainting them red

'Tell them I came, as was my right
But the locked Great Hall was shuttered tight
And the echoes mocked in the fading light

He rested his head on the deep grained wood
The sunset glowed on his travel stained hood
'Tell them I came as I said I would.'

'Tell them I travelled over the seas
Across the great rivers and under the trees
But I kept my word and I held the keys'

A raven cawed in a twiggy nest
The wind was rising in the west
'Tell them, say that I did my best.'

'I saw strange stars and stranger skies.'
But he listened in vain for the listeners sighs
'I kept my word, all else is lies.'

At the edge of the sky the thunder growled
And the rising wind wept soft then howled
At the dead Great Hall the traveller prowled

'I kept my oath and now am free
I no longer approach on bended knee.'
He opened his hand and dropped the key

It seemed like no stroke of luck or chance
That the heavens threw down their fiery lance
As he rode away with no backward glance.

He felt the heat hard on his back
The Great Hall flamed from the lightning's crack
But he still rode on down the weedy track.

I seriously recommend the original, and you can read it here

Sunday, 22 June 2014

Party Stains

Light and Shade Challenge 

Sian looked ruefully at the love of her life.  Wine was spilt on the precious cream carpet.  One of the curtains had pulled loose from a hook.  The fruit bowl had been scattered over the couch and make up had been ground into the wall paper.  Anyone could see it had been a heck of a party. 

"What are we going to tell the kids?"