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Sweet Diatoms

Sweet diatoms
You make me smile

Algal atoms
Too small to see

But for my eye
Peering microscopically

Your fiddly frames
Of filigree silica

Seem big to me

Tim
 
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Dunwich Heath Cliff

Beachen sand, coastal gravel Heave and spew with every wave Are fixed above my head Banks of sand, clots of gravel Two million-years adrift Are rolling at my feet Same old, same old Dunwich Cliff, Dunwich Beach: The poetry of sediment remains Tim
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Alder Carr, Crichton

Cold clear water Lurking trout Dogs mercury afloat. Where Crichton Castle Stands the bank. Old Alder cones still black; The trees are still asleep. Willows weep I wash my feet. Moss encrusted veterans fallen to the hillside Amongst blackbirds singing in old ash trees. Wild raspberries Jasper green canes reaching high waiting for summer feathers. Lime kilns and quarried Lonely caves. Sandstone and limestone planes alayered. I walk a mile Through the haar Amongst the dark alder carr. My sandwiches Becoming colder by the minute. I rise up the edges Tottering the line of ancient beech. With broken banks and pocketed anemones. Two muntjac creeping on the sideways track, Watchful of my progress. Manky boots Impress their foot. Bright yellow lichen on old hawthorn,  Jet black ash buds, Grey scaly patches, Lime flower matches. Frothy blackthorn Sloe to emerge, bonnie gill. Magical yet spiny, waiting for its gin. Park primroses clumping their station, Demanding their presence and lithe nat...
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A Woodland Ensemble - Psithurism of the Trees.

The plane tree With paper-like rustle Elephant patches And scaly trunk. Memories And mellow whispers Of a darkest tempest Dropping the bass. Constable elms Whispering, suckering saplings Converting To beetle runs beneath. Ash- With minstrel keys playing harmonies masking sinister die back. Crataegus thickets The scratchy rasping may catch you quick. Whispering pines Bend forwards Reaching skywards Splintering the silence. Mother beech With spaltered Marks waltzing And humoresque streaks. Holly reigns in Summer solstice Days shorten And poco a poco winter returns. King of the woods Ships hold Forte and Table fast. Eric
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Tang Yellows and Sung Blues

Beneath the dome of autumnal beech amber hues and jasper green tang-yellow leaves. The sung blue-grey sky and speckled shade on the tender crisp-lined track. Egyptian buff-brown Vigorous and stout trunks Lengthening skyward. Stephanie
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Forever Searching

Search the walls Scan the corridors Express the highs Scribble the lows Writing explores The state of my mind.   Judith  
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Leper Chapel - Mosaics of Time

Mudstone mosaics and jumbled fractures - an uneven puzzle waiting; holy stone with leper marks, dotted and spotted black. Ever expanding lichen rings with double oil-spotted rainbow; angular rust-like stains Testing the presence of time. Clenched into cracks Of weathered rocks and broken messages; scarlet snapdragons trailing their cardinal stems. Damp buttress of moss clinging, Festooning the flint; ink spots, stone measles, proud thistle commanding the base. Random yet structured, closely inter-twined cobwebs Fastened carefully to parched and pocketed stones. Chaotic yet ordered toad-like grotesque within; marking essences of devoted and hidden faces. Picture flints grinning their caramel coffee smiles amongst Anglian crags, embracing their forgotten cousins. Stephanie To see the inspiration for this poem and hear it being narrated at the remains of the Leper Chapel, Dunwich, visit this page from our Chronicles of Greyfriars project website.
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Jungle Walk, Henstead Exotic Garden, Suffolk.

Broad-leaved trees, spreading palms, fingers outstretched, shield me from the sun’s heat. Beneath a green umbrella’s shade, the perfect spot on a blistering summer’s day, so cool, serene. Round, fluted lily pads rest flat on inky waters where golden fish glide, finding refuge in silence. A tiny oasis, place of shelter enfolding, embracing me within its safe circumference. Julia Duke
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A Light Touch

Like a single pearl on a lupin leaf I sparkle, motionless, waiting for you to discover me. I like to tease a little, tickling bare limbs, making you shiver with delight. I like to be noticed. In summer I slip softly, silently into the bare earth, quenching thirst, satisfying desire. Winter storms excite me, lashing against windows, whipping up seas, splashing in gutters. You can have too much of me, you say. With scarcity I’m a precious jewel. Over-abundance brings disaster. Julia Duke
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Careful Where You Walk

In the nick of time, spring at last emerges almost too late to position itself centre stage. A final twirl, a bow sweeping the footlights taking the limelight laying down its profusion of greens its heady fragrances such signs of life’s abundance all showered at our feet. A few more days and summer casting spring aside will be upon us. Be careful where you walk: a purple orchid plucked just in time from the relentless mower daisies a golden drift of buttercups vivid blue speedwell ox-eyes unfolding as we watch bluebells cowslips the deepest of red clovers plantains holding on to their dainty quivers of white petals and the purple vetch a glorious tangled paradise. Rooks fly upwards circle, settle in the topmost branches of a spreading oak. The horses swish their tails. Soon it will be summer, the first swallows sleek with bright new plumage swooping and snaking above the lake, eager to announce its coming. The little clocktower peals out the music of its chimes telling the quarters but...
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Spring Into Action

To return to leaf and brighten the day, Spring suddenly appears with accelerando of snowdrops and May in March. Fluted bird song fills the skies, worm casts aplenty rise to surface and morning dew appears. Paula  
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