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River Stour Haiku


Wandering the bend,
Bending around the wonder
Meander reveals.

Freda

Currently Popular Poems:

Tins

Back then, I couldn't understand. Why so many tins, mum? Towers of carrots, beans and soups. Spaghetti in tomato sauce. She was shaped by war and disability. Rations and depletions. Unreachable shops. The anxiety of uncertainty. Now I'm shaped by the virus war. Rations and depletions. Unsafe shops. The anxiety of uncertainty. I understand, now, and worry. Look at my own tin towers. Just ahead of the panic, Stores drying up, fear building. Ashamed of how I mocked. Unable to say sorry, To say that I understand. Complacent no more. by Adrian Image by Ti Wi via Unsplash

Shingle Beach

Deep Yellow sea poppies With Salted horns Of sickle-shaped pods Grey green lobes Waxy Rosettes Clinging to the shingle And Fragility of life. Thomas

Crinkle Crankle Wall

I love the crinkle-crankle's quirkiness, Its quiet economy and hidden strength, No need for buttresses, for inner stress Holds tight the subtle, undulating length. From East to West, it’s perfectly aligned, So morning sunlight warms the sheltered side, Fruit ripening along espaliered lines, Resisting sea-winds, carried by the tides. Slangemuur the Dutch men called it, engineers, Who drained the marshland, freed alluvial soil, That rich, dense blackness, springing with green spears, Of wheat and barley, from their earthy toil. Strict calculations laboured to create, The Crinkle-Crankle’s seeming-natural shape. Slangemuur*– snakewall. Fiona Clark  

Entangled Yet Free

An open-closed cage The box globe captures Amber beech, suspended Surely, safely in its net. A network of veins, junctions and oval waxy minuscule leaves. Thoughts and the essence of Autumnal fall Entangled, yet free.     Anon

Mirrored Silences

With mirrored silences amplifying the spaces in between. The lost thoughts Gathering the unfulfilled dreams. Anne

A Misplaced Death

To wander like the wind of one thousand faces amplified by silence, the shadows beckon me to the earth, with forgotten and smoked memories, I glide my way through unwelcome fields. Cast ashore by the concave sky beckoning me adrift on a sea of darkness, a stranger of many faces. Haunted by extra commas, the landscape between our past and present separates and unites us with misplaced and loyal passions. Anon

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

After a Week Off

Sarah, new to the ward, senses a friend in Nurse Nicole as she sits at the end of the bed, eyes closed and dread of the operation lessens; she knows that all will be well as trust replaces fear. Some of the other nurses bitch she doesn't fill forms properly she only washes her own cup but Matron squashes their cattiness jealousy can run rampant unless quickly curtailed. The doctors are pleased she is back some appreciate their task will be easier as her soothing hands find the place that needs reminding it is part of the whole and is free to join in the healing. Karen

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  

Walberswick

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