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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 not the passing of the year.

Julia Duke
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Acronyms

PTSD PPE BA 2.75.2 Ratios, numbers, percentages “look after yourself…” they said. We were all Marcel Marceau feeling the invisible walls closing in. I was lucky, I could get out for 30 minutes Music in the car on the way home from the crem., to those invisible walls carrying the grief of the world on my shoulders and forever in my heart. Ratios, numbers, percentages “look after yourself… Suzanne
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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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Mirrored Silences

With mirrored silences amplifying the spaces in between. The lost thoughts Gathering the unfulfilled dreams. Anne
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Above a Sea of Fog

Caspar David Friedrich, 'Wanderer above a Sea of Fog' (c.1818) She once said I looked like a graceful swan drifting serene across the surface of the water, giving no clue to the feet paddling so furiously beneath me. It was a cliché, small comfort unless you are obsessed with appearances. His wandering, like mine, is threatened by the drifting mist that twists and turns, obscuring paths that lie ahead, decisions that weigh so heavily on lesser minds, not lightly made. Masterful he looks, above this boiling sea, so nicely turned out, so dapper in his neatly tailored coat, perched high above the reach of such disorder, never likely to muddy his resolve. Webbed feet paddle beneath me so constantly I am not always aware. I dress well, tie back my unruly hair leaving a wisp or two free to roam. I do not want to look severe. But the fog creeps. Julia
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The Sadness of Plastic

I ha ve known the inexorable sadness of litter on countryside walks thrown along hedgerows of gleaming berries out of place but in near sight. The misery of mucky polystyrene food boxes amongst marsh marigolds and achillea flung from cars and wrappers of sandwiches hinged like dentures to snap shut over hungry hedgehogs or thirsty toads. ‘M’ or ‘Starbucks’ cups with unnecessary plastic lids harmful havens of no return for tiny creatures. The selfish scattering of chocolate covers torn, sweet papers – all plastic – strewn and cigarette butts, heeled into verges of daisies, buttercups and dandelions to blow about in breezes or to be caught under hedges, in ditches, and amongst the wild flowers left by the Council for bees and butterflies who now do battle with all this human debris. Here lies the detritus of greed, the refuse of recalcitrant rebels who refuse to listen to the pleas in the news, online, in social media, at school – everywhere – about rubbish and pollution, global warming ...
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Like a New England Clam

I shelter my feelings like the on-shore wind Blowing my Consciousness to the sand-sculptured hills. I return to my throne Resilience revealed And point of no return. Hilary  
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Walberswick

Walberswick foreshore beneath a bridge, countless silver fry can't make up minds where to swim John
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Green Swatches

My body will forget My thoughts will be Scattered Amongst Winter's Gloom. Amongst Nature’s Seasoned robes I walk and restore My broken thoughts. With widening strides I turn to the botanical essence Leaving traces of desire. To swatches of green I turn my attentiveness To refresh tomorrow’s thoughts. Jim  
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Post Traumatic Stress

Your steps alert yet furtive, Your actions so subdued, The walls you'd built around yourself, No others heard or viewed. Your senses sharp and heightened, Reacting to small cues, Kept memories lingering in your head No others heard your news. Self protection served its purpose, Of course, and that made sense, But little did you know that, It was all in the past tense. Relief it was short lived, in fact, The price that was to pay Was that years had passed before your eyes With not living in today. So walls built strong like concrete, Impermeable to most, Restricted you so badly, With the past a haunting ghost. Those dreams seemed like reality, Like you were still right there, The terror you experienced then again, Unjust and unfair. In later years you found a way, A chance to start again, Each gentle step to live once more, Crawling gently from your den. Putting back the chaos, That ran amok inside your head, Gave you strength to start to live, And deal with all the dread. Then pea...
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Who Is Saving The World?

The recycler, bicycler, bio-masser and solar paneller, the sustainable developer, the charity worker, the medics (sans frontieres?), fundraisers and carers, givers and listeners, growers of organics, designers of biodegradables. Genetic engineers? Surgeons and researchers, forgivers and forgetters, Billy the bug hunter, Immy the mathematician, Troy the paratriathelete, Wendy the wigwam maker. The ones who go last, the ones who smile, the ones who don’t want to argue about it, the ones who give up their seat, the ones who calm a storm, the ones who cook up a feast, the ones who sing praises, the ones who shine, Auntie Gwen and Malala…… ….and I drink water from a glass bottle. Sue Foster Image by Fernando via Unsplash .
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