Other Poetry

In the Sussex Woods

In the Sussex woods
This morning, the trees sing
Ballads; goldfinches
And red-breasted robins, tits,
Blackbirds and sparrows, a thrush,
And a woodpecker
Hammering rhythm.

On a brown-waved pond,
The sun casts crystals
And a mallard paddles by,
Shaping V’s in the water
As a farmer in a field
The far side of the willows
Ploughs the spring-damp earth.


The Pathway

Take a step forward
Though the path may be unpaved,
And you may stumble,
Distracted by a bird’s song,
Or rest upon a stone – lost.

Take a step forward
Through fear and trepidation.
When forest shadows
Haunt your uncertain journey,
Hide your eyes and persevere.

When you step forward
On the pathway to your life
And your steps falter,
Look again – it waits for you.


The Patience of Water

Be soft like water,
Bending a branch with raindrops.
Be strong like water,
Casting waves against breakers,
As winds whip seas to its will.

Be calm like water;
Its patient path holds power,
Carving stone canyons
Into soft-edged corridors,
Freeing its course to the sea.

Be still like water;
Sit in silent solitude
While the world spins in frenzy,
Till serenity settles.


On a Lovely Day

On a lovely day
When the blue sky invites me
To linger in the spring sun
And listen to birds
Singing joy in the branches
Of April-green trees,
I huddle alone
In a dark bedroom
And write poetry.

Upon the screen-white pages
I excavate fields
Vibrant with flowers,
Dreaming of the day
When I amble bare-footed
On a green meadow.


When Love is Lost

Lost, my heart laments,
Like a violin weeping
A sad song of love.
You have kidnapped my hope,
Exhausted, I surrendered.

I hear your footstep
And my heart wages a war —
But you pass me by.
When you leave me, as you will,
Must I live when joy is lost?

Reach for me again
So I may savour love’s wine,
Before the bottle empties
And dregs coat my tongue.


Why Does the Bird Fly North

Why does the bird fly north?
The south offers comforts without care.
How can it know that fields,
Lush with April flowers,
Await it there?

Why does the bird fly north
When all sense commands it must stay?
Because Nature whispers on springtime breezes,
‘Go leave, go fly, go pray’.


Orange-winged butterfly,
Still, in the sunlight
Of a forest path.
A gust of wind
And it flutters away,
A dot of fire in the blue sky.


My window frames a concrete view –
I close my eyes
And the world is painted
With marvels.


My pen scribbles our love
Onto these pages,
So that, immortal,
We will love through the ages.


Touch me like the rain.
Trace your fingers
Along my June-hot skin
Until I whisper ‘Yes’.


Come dance.
Close your eyes.
Feel my breath on your cheek.
Lean into my welcome.


A weed has grown
In the garden of love.
Tear it out
Before it chokes
All that is good.


Who can say
Whom is the lover
And whom is the beloved?
We are drawn together,
Ignorant of reason,
Spurred by love.

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