Life Love and All That Crap!

Clarion Call

Undulating,

twisting,

turning away,

our shadows stretch

back to a time of awe and innocence,

pylons buzz excitedly, showering fizzy rain,

rustling hedgerows, murmuring trees,

rising, rising, rising,

a crescendo of indignation.

The ancient ones placate,

try to quell unrest,

State,

“We’ve been here before”,

“We always survive”

Young saplings call for action

“No”! they cry

“Uncover your eyes”!

“Mother lies depleted,

by demanding Cuckoo babies”,

Dandelion hits one o’clock,

Is this tipping point?

Are we too late?

Ahead the road forks,

which will we take?

Alchemy

Field of pollinated yellow,

the harvested seeds

soon to be cold pressed

into smooth golden liquid,

a jar of which sits on the windowsill

slowly infusing calendula flowers.

Waggle dancing bees

laden down with pollen

return to their hive,

where time transforms it

into a sticky sweet substance

in perfect symmetrical hexagons.

On the stove sits

a double boiler, enamel pan,

melting together

oil, beeswax and honey,

once again, alchemising into

Galen’s healing cream.

Letters

Line, curve, squiggle,

rolling around the tongue,

forming sounds emitted,

enthralling audiences with,

epic sagas of kingdoms and espionage,

recurring stories of life, as old as time itself.

Line, curve, squiggle,

jostling around the page,

forming words to read,

everyday mundane tales,

letters to lovers, telegrams to mothers,

recurring stories of life, as old as time itself.

Line, curve, squiggle,

tumbling across the screen,

forming text to decipher,

overkill in the blogosphere,

emails, posts and blogs twittering away,

recurring stories of life, as old as time itself.

A Moment

inky, murderous crows scavenge, strut their stuff,

snowy egret weaves, edging the incoming tide,

a kestrel hovers deftly over bank,

as juvenile seagulls harass parents,

flock of huddled turnstones huddled, shifts in shingle,

an oyster catcher cries out, breaking almost silence,

synchronicity takes fight.

Sixth Sense

songline, ley line, hollow way,

trodden since time innate,

ancient migratory routes,

ancestors compelled by forces unknown,

to meeting, market, sacred site,

on,

and on,

motorways, steel tracks,

enticing halls of glistening worship,

things we desire today,

hey,

do I know you?

I feel as though I do,

is this the sixth degree?

or have our paths have crossed before?

Blue Moon

you appear out of the blue

carrying Forget me Nots,

we sit under a cloudless sky

drinking Bombay Sapphire

out of chipped,

willow pattern cups,

listening to bluegrass,

scattered with chicory,

swaying in the breeze,

watching swallows

feed on the wing,

blue peter is hoisted,

mussels cling on,

as the anchor is hauled,

I watch you disappear

into the blue yonder.

Grand Old Lady of the Sea

at night you wear your widow’s weeds,

mourning your glory days,

paddle steamers brought day trippers,

to marvel at your splendour,

a feat of Victorian engineering,

a warning beacon flashes,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…

as day dawns, casting off your lacy shroud,

you sit in the morning sun,

daydreaming of days long past,

twirling on the dance floor,

ice cream on the decking,

you shone like a jewel,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…

you did your bit for the war effort,

as the country mourned its dead,

the Grand Pavilion became,

a camouflage netting factory,

in 1963 the sea froze around you,

glistening in the winter sun,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me...

you sit out there now, proud,

resplendent in the morning sun,

head held high, loved by all,

grand old lady of the sea,

at tide low, across the mud flats,

a whisper on the breeze,

enticing, beckoning,

come to me, come to me…