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Currently Popular Poems:

The Skylark

A fletched fanfare to the field Pulses upward Ladders the air No regalia for this herald: A flickering tattered grey-brown speck Yet he cascades his song Like a million pieces of silver Glorying the sky Owning the hunkered down, machine-torn hedges, The tilled and tamed expanse beneath Daring the wind, taunting I’m here, he cries, I’m here Awakening the wild joy in our hearts Bone-bred memories of open heath and grassland. Robert Lindsay
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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  
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Behind Your Smile

Behind your smile, Is a heart that's filled with pain, Behind every gesture There's a walk down memory lane. For yesterday's troubles, Are torments of the soul, It's so hard to be strong, When life takes its toll. With every step that's taken, There's compassion for another, A listening ear always there, Guiding sons, daughters, mothers. Always so much easier, To hold up for a friend, When to go with your feelings, Seems to lead to no end. The whispers locked inside your head, Remind you, you're alive, With pretending and avoiding, You can easily survive. Giving in's not an option, When there are others to care for, So easy to pretend, When there's no help at the door. Depression, like a broken leg , Needs nurturing and healing. Don't treat it any differently, It's normal to have feelings. Out there is the help you need, To help and cope and manage, The troubles burdening your mind, To unload all the baggage. So while right now it seems each ...
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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
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A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
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Twisted Love

Twisted trunk and milky stream, A glacial meltwater on serpent skin. Whirling optimistic messengers, Coherent and flowing, Yet random and broken Waiting to be spoken. Snake bark maple, And milky stream, Twisted love and shattered dreams. Anon .    
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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
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So Much Yellow

There’s gorse, of course and sometimes broom, the lichens yellow on the tomb and every churchyard has its fill of lovely yellow daffodils. There’s dandelions and celandine and yellow primrose, I suppose, and fluffy yellow chicks are born and yellow toads from slippery spawn. And green is seen on every lawn, at April’s end the woods turn blue and tulips bloom in pink and red with drooping leaves in every bed but yellow bellows all around: spring’s mating call, a joyful sound. Julia Duke
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Ravilious Rules

Yesterday’s heat evaporates taking with it the fierce glare of the sun. Yesterday, sunlight glanced off hills, danced on rivers, but I am used to this gentle Welsh spirit that now envelops the landscape, soft green mist that returns to the hills, softening edges, softening mood. Curvaceous, a line of grey green hills etched in waves of leafiness, dark green towering oaks, hedgerows draped with dog roses, flat, rounded clusters of elderflowers, the gracious sweep of the bronzed maple. Tutored by nature’s harmony, my eye picks out the tell-tale signs of human intervention, marks alien pylons astride hilltops. Tall, straight telegraph poles push their way up through trees, geometric road signs warn of hidden dangers, along straight, tarmacked roads. The sign for Maesmawr Farm shouts its rectilinear message, tempting me with luxury lodges. The arrow points straight to them. Even the forestry commission superimposes its orderly rows on nature’s wayward curves. But the rolling hills triumph,...
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Reverse Switches

A faraway thought Eclipse of the Mind Offset against time. Random rotations Of Flickering predictions And reverse switches. An unknown being Offering stability of presence Estimation of existence. A prequel to sanity Essence of age And drifting forecasts. An overhang of tempers Stabilising the vitality And residence of mind. Spectre of sensation Accessing the bleak And uncertain future. Trudge of uncertainty Against unresolved Conflicts of schedule. A fathom of thoughts And sideway glances Broadening beyond reasoning. Iain   
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