Sunday, 7 August 2022

 The Hedgerow Fairies


Where have they gone,

the hedgerow fairies

in their harebell hats?

I used to see them sitting

under their leafy roofs

stitching their summer dresses

of poppy and mallow petals

with long silk threads

catching the summer sunlight

as the smiling spiders spun.

I miss them so,

the hedgerow fairies

in their harebell hats.

I used to see them collecting

armfuls of meadow sweet

to stuff their nighttime mattresses,

making doorways in their new

toadstool homes with sharp stones.

Maybe they’ve gone underground

to escape the passing cars and tractors.

Maybe they only come out at night now

and stitch and stuff under the moonlight.

I don’t know.

But I miss them so,

the hedgerow fairies

in their harebell h


ats.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B8VLH1H2


 Fairy Queen


She wanted to be queen

of the fairies

and live on the top of the tree

displacing the star.

That should belong in the sky,

she thought.

So she picked it up and threw it 

away,

watched it float upwards

to join the other stars.

And then it snowed

starlike snowflakes

which engulfed her

even on the top

of the tree.


https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B8VLH1H2



 Summer Holidays


We all holidayed  in Britain

when I was a child

and no one swam in the seas.

The water was empty beyond it’s edge

even on the warmest of days.

Parents sat in deckchairs closely packed

wearing overcoats for the wind

and a newspaper hat in case of sun.

Paddling was as adventurous as it got.

Nothing wetter was allowed,

nothing wetter was desired

in that cold, cold water.


Affluence and climate change

changed our traditions.

It was the costas for us now

in clothes purpose made 

for playing splash,

for warm water swimming

and stretching out to sun bathe

on closely packed sun loungers.


Then we’re back in Britain.

Sent home by fear

of infection and contamination

carefully keeping our distance

from each other

as we scurry to British beaches

only to be sent home again

as travelling was not allowed

nor was paddling 

even though the sea is warm,

nor was sun bathing,

or beach games

on the warm sands.


Soon we’ll really feel the heat.

We won’t go anywhere then.


https://theplumtreetavern.blogspot.com/2022/08/summer-holidays.html



Saturday, 6 August 2022

 Return


The darkness is everywhere

but it has had its time.

It thought it would last for ever.

It thought it could cover it’s traces,

but now in it’s last hour 

it’s secret side is emerging uneasily

still ready to cast a shadow

that will add to the mystery

and maybe just

shine a light

inside the depths

to reveal the hidden places

that were obscured.

It’s time is ending

as the sun pierces the sky

revealing what

was hiding. 

Not everything,

not all,

but some things

that were hidden.

Enough.



https://spectrumlasthour.blogspot.com/2022/08/lynn-white.html



 Leaving Home


The van departed

fully loaded.

The last seconds

of my last hour there

gone.

I stood there 

empty handed

and took a final look round

the house 

I’d once been happy there.

I felt empty now,

like the house,

empty rooms

and faded dreams.

I was on my own now,

going solo.

I walked briskly away.

I didn’t look back.



https://spectrumlasthour.blogspot.com/2022/08/lynn-white.html



 Doing Nothing


If happiness is doing nothing

lie back and enjoy it.

Watch the rush 

to earn more.

Watch the rush

to spend more.

Watch

from your window

or read about it

or dream about it.

Lie back and enjoy it

while the moment lasts.

It’s the last hour that will

turn your nightmares into dreams.


https://spectrumlasthour.blogspot.com/2022/08/lynn-white.html



Thursday, 4 August 2022

 Re Reading Old Words


Once again I’m re-reading old words

rereading them

over and over again

like comfort eating

to avoid the shock

of the new.

Re-read

review

like an album of old photographs

of people locked in their past

still located there

living there

dead

history in a flash

gone in a flash

brought back

to life

dead

renewed on a treadmill

turning

round and round

on a loop

replaying

endlessly

returning like old clothes 

kept for comfort 

to be worn again

like re-read words. 

The new rejected

neglected

shut out

so I can languish

in the comfort

zone of the old

dead words

for ever.



https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B8BPKMSR