bronwen-griffiths - Hello Poetry

Single crow Beach crow Shimmer Green Rusted Channel- marker Crow Among waves Crow As breeze ruffles Your feathers Blackly Crow

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Nov 22, 2018

Nov 22, 2018 at 5:11 AM UTC

Crow on Bexhill Beach

Single crow Beach crow Shimmer Green Rusted Channel- marker Crow Among waves Crow As breeze ruffles Your feathers Blackly Crow

13

Waiting for the rain to stop, the wind, darkness turned blue first birdsong early flight, rumbling dog to bark, cockerel, long night to end, waiting for small chatterings, smell of coffee waking eyes the light to come, waiting for morning

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Sep 16, 2018

Sep 16, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC

Waiting for the Rain

Waiting for the rain to stop, the wind, darkness turned blue first birdsong early flight, rumbling dog to bark, cockerel, long night to end, waiting for small chatterings, smell of coffee waking eyes the light to come, waiting for morning

16

High up on the scaffolding She is green painting In soft rain Now she makes Silent calligraphy Invisible to the eye

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Jun 5, 2018

Jun 5, 2018 at 12:03 PM UTC

Calligraphy

High up on the scaffolding She is green painting In soft rain Now she makes Silent calligraphy Invisible to the eye

6

Pigeons strut Hopeful among lovers Someone whistles With the laughter of flowers Such lovers As rain falls

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Jun 5, 2018

Jun 5, 2018 at 12:02 PM UTC

Bloomsbury Square

Pigeons strut Hopeful among lovers Someone whistles With the laughter of flowers Such lovers As rain falls

6

Against rain Silver Splashing The night dark Waiting For the dog in the grass Unsteady The rain whispering A gutter Singing somewhere

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Apr 16, 2018

Apr 16, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC

Against rain

Against rain Silver Splashing The night dark Waiting For the dog in the grass Unsteady The rain whispering A gutter Singing somewhere

10

In the morning A flight of constant birds Over early daffodils And later such stars there were High above the night trees As the frosted breath of the river Slipped slow-cold through low fields The water silent among the foxes calling And now we wait for snow again

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Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC

Waiting for snow

In the morning A flight of constant birds Over early daffodils And later such stars there were High above the night trees As the frosted breath of the river Slipped slow-cold through low fields The water silent among the foxes calling And now we wait for snow again

9

Thinking of Mulled wine and a tired moon The edges of things A slammed telephone How people whisper Gossip Thinking of Scratchy clothes, cornflakes Waving goodbye Thinking of A chintz sofa, the five o’clock news Never thinking of you

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Nov 11, 2017

Nov 11, 2017 at 6:15 AM UTC

Thinking of

Thinking of Mulled wine and a tired moon The edges of things A slammed telephone How people whisper Gossip Thinking of Scratchy clothes, cornflakes Waving goodbye Thinking of A chintz sofa, the five o’clock news Never thinking of you

12

Whisper to me You tall beeches Whisper your shadows The words of your leaves On clouds I sit Chalk Your Boughs Long Shadows Like tresses Of hills Soft and downy With grass Listen beeches Remember your days The way the sun climbs And lowers itself Remember drifts of snow White as chalk Whisper your secrets of leaves Let me sleep Beneath your shadows Glad that summer is arrived Before Snow

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May 30, 2017

May 30, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC

Wood on the Downs

Whisper to me You tall beeches Whisper your shadows The words of your leaves On clouds I sit Chalk Your Boughs Long Shadows Like tresses Of hills Soft and downy With grass Listen beeches Remember your days The way the sun climbs And lowers itself Remember drifts of snow White as chalk Whisper your secrets of leaves Let me sleep Beneath your shadows Glad that summer is arrived Before Snow

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Look another way Toward dreams My hair is a tangle of black eels Curled up in flowers Contained and blue-tattooed My ******* bare. My legs hidden I kick like a mule My fingernails are talons You cannot contain me In this small Spanish town I am not contained Anywhere I spill out of blue Pluck flowers from the graves of the dead My mouth is not for kissing.

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May 2, 2017

May 2, 2017 at 5:40 AM UTC

Self-portrait as Mujer con los brazos levantados, Picasso, 1936

Look another way Toward dreams My hair is a tangle of black eels Curled up in flowers Contained and blue-tattooed My ******* bare. My legs hidden I kick like a mule My fingernails are talons You cannot contain me In this small Spanish town I am not contained Anywhere I spill out of blue Pluck flowers from the graves of the dead My mouth is not for kissing.

16

Here trees blossom with plastic Sweet wrappers garland a mossy wall Empty crisp packets whisper like leaves And jagged daisies of broken bottles Scatter the grass Here a woman, Rose tattooed Skin like the bark of trees Her eyes tin-cans Trundles her shopping cart Over catkins of paper cups Lager, the colour of sap Leaks from her hands Her mouth is a bruised petal

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May 2, 2017

May 2, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC

Rose

Here trees blossom with plastic Sweet wrappers garland a mossy wall Empty crisp packets whisper like leaves And jagged daisies of broken bottles Scatter the grass Here a woman, Rose tattooed Skin like the bark of trees Her eyes tin-cans Trundles her shopping cart Over catkins of paper cups Lager, the colour of sap Leaks from her hands Her mouth is a bruised petal

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