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The Lights Went Out

The Lights Went Out

A poem that came to me the other day while attending to my garden ...
Red Velvet

Red Velvet

A naughty little festive number from a few years back just to add a little spice to a somewhat stale Christmas. .  Come to me, now while my moon is high. I am a stranger in this frosted, frigid land. I never was this Ice Queen nor wear the mantle well. We have dreams yet to be woven, works of our art needing expression. Soft and fluid as water-colour rich and nourishing as oils, splashed upon my ...
This Side of Armageddon

This Side of Armageddon
Picked

  One day soon, the clocks will stop but we shall go on, regardless. Forging new beginnings and sharing restless dreams. I walk by the river often, where nobody goes alone and whisper your name to the wind. For I have to share what makes my heart glad. I shall be there by evening breathless, just in time to catch the golden fire of the sun going down for the very last time and hear ...
Battle

Battle

One from my archives. I did several onto pictures for a change of presentation ...
Mind Games (reworked)

Mind Games (reworked)

Can she really be gone? My head says yes but my heart disagrees. She's there, sitting in her familiar chair waiting. Later, Viewing old Nairn photographs I ask, what is she doing at this time? She's only 'up the road'  Perhaps she's busy, knitting a jumper for school or putting the finishing touches to her wonderful pastry? Life and times are an illusion... webs within webs. a quantum multiverse she's in there somewhere. I just ...
Musing on the Threshold by Bozzz (David Boswell)

Musing on the Threshold by Bozzz (David Boswell)

 In loving memory of Bozzz  David's wife Meg, sent me this last poem. He was almost blind by then and asked for my appraisal.I recorded it and she let him listen. It made him happy. He was as sharp as a tack and had deep humanity plus wonderful wit to the very end. I thought it nice to share his work to those who remember him and those new to the site ...
The Widow's Mite

The Widow’s Mite

When there is nothing left to give...grief becomes the order of the day ...
Echoes

Echoes

An early poem ...
Twmbarlwm Is On Fire

Twmbarlwm Is On Fire

The mystic site of the Iron Age Fort of Twmbarlwm is north of Risca in South Wales but kids constantly set fire to the surrounding forests and hillsides and stoned the fire crews ...
Language of Ferns

Language of Ferns

"Nature always speaks, if we have ears to listen." ...
Under Steel Moons

Under Steel Moons

Unconditional Love   Tides surge and recede. Moons wax and wane. I grow older too… But contained within that flow my love remains. An immovable rock in a perilous world. A never wavering picture on your wall of all things good. A rosebud under hard frost ...
Free to Run

Free to Run

One from the archives (totally reworked) describing the day I came home to put my mother's old cat beyond suffering.  The dreaded hour, my summons home, a sombre task. Always fiercely a one-woman cat rescued from cruelty, untrusting hissing exchange, for tentative interaction.  But last night you crept in slept on my chest... as though in unspoken , feline appreciation, of my forthcoming sad service. Then... The stark environment, juxtaposed sanitised steel tables and antiseptic, ...
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