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Lockdown the Green


Plastic screens
Covid-19

Keep hands clean
Covid-19

Don’t make a scene
Covid-19

Lockdown on the green
Covid-19

Face masks mean
Covid-19

Covid-19
HAS BEEN 

 

by Joe

 

 

Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

White Hawthorns

The day speaks of white hawthorn Sundays Long washed out road trips, reluctant relatives waving you off on arrival. Rain from decades passed, a swishing of glimpses. Parents cramped and fretful. Passing through a littered accompaniment of faceless outlines. Stretched out warming children, car sick, scrunch up weathered newspapers. Pungent smells of nostalgia, almost Springs bouncing forward hours. Eager sweet wrappers lunge for half opened windows to adorn the floating blossom clouds of hawthorn bushes, March’s winds step in much like a bone-chilled but amiable hitch hiker. A querulous sibling rolls over, sickening, falls out in a screeching of tires. Tearfully rain-splattered. Another weekend pulled out and pegged up, redolent of adolescences quickly traversed. Mark Ereira-Guyer
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Lace-like Shadows

Dancing with lace-like shadows of forgotten worlds, the tortoiseshell creeps slowly, the last energies to lie upon the rough bark. With folded wings, Madame butterfly is no more til Spring. Charlotte
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A Missed Blow

Turn the knob down A gas light Beckons A grasped strength Within Clutching For approval. Survive I might A further night. Rachel   
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Stone Souls

Abbey stones Hold tales of the untold A rich tapestry of thoughts, Echoes and patterns and times ancient by. Of weathered landscapes Broken angel wings, Jumbled thoughts and crumbling terracotta Secrets lie beneath. Of drifting monks And whispering clouds Beneath us lies Hidden skulls The stone souls.   b y Art Branches recovery project group
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Ready to Spring

Like the gnarly springtime bulbs, dormant in the ground Your demons crouch under the skin, waiting to be found Waiting for their moment, to break through and be seen The pale face of snowdrops, in a vibrant sea of green Emmalene Taylor
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Let's Go Climb a Tree

Come my friend and we will find The biggest tree in which to climb Where we can touch the sky above And fill the air with clouds of love Hold my hand and let us go To run in grass filled meadow Raise our arms and spin away Let’s go climb a tree today Follow me down a woodland path Free your voice to sing and laugh Speak your truth, dance and play Let’s go climb a tree today Find that child that hides inside Behind the walls of fear and pride Open the door and let them play Let’s go climb a tree today Emmalene Taylor
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Let Me Play

Children at play filled with innocence, Trees in the playground where they hide. Running, shouting no cares in the world, Waves of freedom flows higher than the tide. In that playground stands a child all alone, Fraught with sadness, with nobody to play. His dejection surges as his tears threaten, Just wishing a shrill of a whistle would end the day. Being so alone is a solitary game, Thoughts of “what have I done” The shrills and screams of play, Ending a game for those that won. Standing all alone playtime is long, Children running all unaware, He stands still alone, Envy and sadness, he stands just to stare. Sheridan
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Something is Stirring

Underneath parched brown leaves, curled, crumbled remnants of winter, a new stirring. Something in earth’s ancient time clock signals to tiny organisms. It is wake-up time. Something deep, irrepressible, mysterious is on the move. Sap begins to flow. The winter sun is still low in the sky but it has a little residual warmth. It warms the earth. Like human nerve endings messaging the brain, the warm earth sends its invisible, long-awaited signals to bulbs, tubers and roots buried under their mulch of winter leaf mould. Tiny shoots appear on desiccated roots; small tendrils, coiled foetus-like beneath the soil, start to unfurl, reaching for the light. From brown to darkened shades of red, from red to green, finally the world sheds its winter weeds, reaches for its habitual cloak of green. From the stillness of its deep slumber, something living, something new is stirring. From death to life, from darkness into light, a new creation is emerging from the depths as surely as year succeeds t...
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A Glimpse of Shadows

Why is There Sadness in my eyes You ask,  Noticing the hidden depths. After all I’ve been through,  That glimpse Into darkness,  Is all you will see. Anon
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I Remember You

I remember you in the red of the sun as it slips into the night I see you in the breaking dawn as the stars give up their light I feel you in the strength of the wind as it caresses through my hair I hear you in the blackbird’s song as it dances through the air I walk the steps your feet once walked, I smell the flowers you grew From the death of the sun till the light of new moon, I remember you Emmalene Taylor  
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