Thursday, 19 October 2017

Pool
I have a small pool
out there.
Not dark like night, but
full of pale milky light.,
and shimmering smoothly,
rippleless.
It's not deep either,
hardly more than
a footfall.
Just deep enough
to hide my dreams
without them drowning.
VerseWrights is a community for those who enjoy writing poetry, and who want to post their work for others to read, experience, and comment upon. The site is open to all who write and wish to join.
VERSEWRIGHTS.COM

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

Am I Dreaming?
Is this a dream, a mirage?
I could be sleeping.
I was looking out on trees
with rooks calling and nesting
when I started to eat
my picnic.
But am I asleep now?
The trees are dancing,
but no longer trees.
Young people from another time
are dancing to the music,
swaying to the music of the crows.
No longer crows though,
but fiddlers and singers
making raucous music
for the dancing.
So am I dreaming?
The cheese is real though,
and I’m still eating.
I’m still chewing the bread
and drinking the wine.
And I can feel a stone
against my back,
digging into me.
I’m sleepy now though.
Will they be there when I wake?
Or will I come back into life
to see the trees and rooks
as I clear away my picnic
and pack up.
https://treehousearts.me/…/poetry-am-i-dreaming-red-roses-…/

Monday, 16 October 2017

A Grey Place?
This is a grey place,
there's no denying.
Grey slate, grey granite,
grey houses built of both.
And it rains a lot, there's no denying.
Vertical, or horizontal, or swirling rain
falling greyly from heavy misty clouds.
But when caught by a sunbeam
it makes glistening slides
shimmering across the slate
and falls in bright white tails
or snakes like silver
where the mountains leak it.
And spills heavily over rocks,
it's foaming, frothing, yellow ruffed
cascades catching rainbows as they crash
then spitting them back out
in a fine spray of colours.
And now there's no grey
in the dark blue, black sky
filled with gold and silver twinkles.
No grey at all in this place now,
there's no denying.
Poetry by...A. Marie Kaluza, Abigale Louise LeCavalier, Adam Levon Brown, Ainsley McWaters, Amber Tran, Amy Jacoby, Andrew Hubbard, Ayaz Daryl Nielsen, Betty J. Sayles, Bradford Middleton, Claudia Messelod,I Cody Robinson, Daginne Aignend, Daniel de Cullá, Debbie Berk, Dr. Emily Bilman, Erren Geraud...
CREATESPACE.COM

Sunday, 15 October 2017

Dream Lovers
I am in love with an imaginary person.
A Hollywood image flickering
on the straight line of my horizon,
a mirage created by my dreaming,
as all lovers are.
Then transposed to sit on top of flesh and bone,
stuffed into a skin, which doesn’t quite fit,
as all lovers are.
Some parts I hide inside.
Others are in the forefront of my imagination,
filling out the skin, adding more flesh to the bone.
I live in a soap opera stuffed full of imaginary people
with imaginary lives
interspaced with commercial breaks.
It’s more satisfactory,
easier than engaging with the dangers and tedium outside.
Even so, love can still hurt me, but not as badly.
Imaginary events are more controllable.
So it’s more satisfactory.
I can change the situations that trouble me
without stepping outside,
without exposure or failure.
The real world is hard and
it’s people even more transitory than
the mirage lovers
who flicker in and out on the screen behind my eyes.
Are they the same for you, these soap opera people?
The mirage lovers
of your reality and imagination.

Friday, 13 October 2017

Rock Pool
Just a small gap in the cliff side,
dry and bare,
unremarkable.
Then in came the sea;
a high tide
washing over,
leaving
a little
salt water.
Like a pool of tears
filling the gap,
temporarily
bringing it back to life.
From contemporary to future to mindscapes, Issue 5 reimagines and challenges how we think of landscapes.
ALLTHESINS.CO.UK

Thursday, 12 October 2017

Red Roses
I thought they’d furnish our bed,
the red roses you gave to me.
I threw away the hard stems
and the thorns,
just kept the soft
sweet smelling flowers.
But the flowers disintegrated,
fell apart,
like our love,
mirroring our love,
those red petals.
And now I lie alone
cushioned by rose petals.
Spreading petals like tears,
like falling tears.
Red tears bleeding
from the bloody thorns
I thought I’d discarded.
https://treehousearts.me/…/poetry-am-i-dreaming-red-roses-…/

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

Beach Combings
On each beach they’ve been different.
at home there, though
washed up gently by lapping waves
or thrown by high seas.
Now they’re at home
in my house.
Each beach together.
Pretty shells from a bay in Minorca,
where the sea was freezing
and the sun bright hot above.
I remember the exhilaration of my swim there.
Then there are the large curving shells
dived for in Sochi by the son of a Russian family
who became good friends.
Captured memories now.
Those bits of wood from a Scottish loch side
now decorate the wall behind this computer.
Remember those midges? Oh my!
And now all joined by these from the Basque Country.
Beautiful oysters that seemingly tried to swallow stones.
Beautiful oysters decorated with barnacles and wormy fossils.
Now lying on the slate of my hearth.
I’ll remember that beach with the waves lapping gently
and the first sight of something strange.
Half hidden.
I remember.