Archives for posts with tag: Poetry

Sound of chimney wind –

Gives February gusts a voice ~

Old memories.

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Certainties in life:

Sun rising in the morning ~

Losing umbrellas.

The morning shower –

A slight pause for reflection ~

Warm rain on the ear.

Some hands know the soil.
They know what to do with it.
They’re not fine hands, clean hands, they’re rough and thick fingered and calloused but they bring life out of the black and keep a kind of order on the land.
They give firm handshakes.
And hold grandchildren carefully like they hold a china tea cup or a fragile flower.

(For Bob, who knew the land and its people well, RIP).

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Delicious rain –

As long as you are inside ~

Watching the fireworks.

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Walking down the street –
Girls stop and say ‘beautiful!’ ~
To my sunflowers. 

A good book outside –
Tiny flies sticking to it ~
Unable to move.

Squishy blackberries 
The Púca has defiled them ~
Leave them for the birds.

Take the tram to town –
A pierced girl stands by the door ~
She’s reading Homer. 

Many years away –
Henshin Robo, randomly ~
Waiting there for me…

‘Planes land and take off –
With millions of stories ~
Bringing people home. 

Our turret rotates –
Languidly, in evensong ~
Big gun, balls of steel.

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