Skip to main content

Solitude of Pines

With a frail
And uncertain future
Breathing in rhythmical pines
Calms my thoughts.

Solitude I seek
Within the forest
Amorphous blankets of snow
Covering crestfallen waves.

Spirited wind
Melancholy whispers
A tear falls
Past traumas relived.

Ephemeral bird calls
Wispy clouds and frost
Revitalises lost energies
I no longer feel lost.
 

 

Matthew

 

Currently Popular Poems:

Hawk Moth

Hawk moth Waiting alone Tenderness revealed, In the Shadow of the Friary. Cushioned wind Stifling air Song thrush Beckons the Spirit of the summer. Afloat with thoughts Memories of Parched earth and forgotten Spheres. Suzanne

Alive

All of a sudden, I am awake and the sea is licking round my feet. A wall of muddy grey fringed with white assaults my mind and spirit jostling me from sleep. A wave has broken. I am alive. Felix stands on the sea’s edge; hardly a split second’s pause before he is stumbling forward, fearless into the waves, embracing the ocean, saying yes, yes I will, yes to his new friend. I have been sleep-walking, a spectator, unable to grasp this new role, the forgotten skills of grand-parenting lost in the wreckage that is Covid. Standing bemused in playgrounds, waiting for the light to dawn. Suddenly, I am woken by the waves, remembering what life consists of, remembering how to say yes, remembering how to say no, remembering what makes me who I am. Child of the sea. Julia Duke

Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke

Lost Trainers

Damsel- dragonflies alert Trainers sky blue soon to fall in Upstream A clue. Lost trainers Of picnics much fun No more isolation a drunken throw In full river Flow. Anon

Dunwich

Dunwich, once second to London its bells still ring far out to sea when I was young I used to find skulls, ribs and femurs scattered down its cliffs, all now buried in my heart John