Today I will hang my Winter curtains
thick and soft as a cat's full belly
December throw your gauntlet
full blast the rain, the wind can roar
they will not step inside my door
for every sound becomes a purr
when I have donned my seasonal fur

Farewell Autumn Lord
All hail the pale Winter King
Let his rule begin

Frosty winter pond
Water glass obscured by snow
Fish dance in private

Winter's lonely Queen enthroned
endures the long dog days
minded only by her North wind steward
a morose and moaning fellow
of harsh voice and even fiercer countenance
he sings no gentle airs to soothe
no lullabies or music made to please
but rages full blast around her chamber
battering each wall and rattling the locks
until he has exhausted all his fury
only while he slumbers
can she dress in white
don her many jewels of ice
and dance with the sun
who comes to cheer her up, but cannot stay
she knows his love is dangerous
but she cannot keep away

Faint breath flutters the curtains
in the pale green room named spring, we wait
certain that it will be tonight
still he hangs, a torn fingernail
catching sharp on the threads of the season
each wheeze falters, weaker than the last
he rallies and falls,
each stuttering fail
leaves us poised and frozen
still as rabbits on open ground
waiting, waiting waiting
for the sweet and silent sound
of winter’s passing

Turn back the clocks
Countless ears who heard the restless call of spring
Will never dance to winters tune
The hands of time are stilled
For them the clock has stopped
On this year
And all others
This dying year
Has become a year of dying

Melting sun
flows
red to gold
blushing gushing pink
on crimson purpled crows
no leafy waving trees
or clouds of white
to tame its spare and radiant glory
winter sunrise
tells a very different story

Flowers on winter wood, don't mind the dark and brave the stinging cold

they flourish as the frost takes hold

winter flowers know full well the joy they bring

is twice as much as blossoms born in spring

There is no goal
nothing to follow
no beacon for life
no beating pulse
no footsteps
no end in view
freefall children
this is what we do
leaves on the wind
tossed and blown
creatures of chance
of fate and circumstance
we dance along the wire
until we expire

That mournful longing feeling
so sweet and yet so sad
wistful for a something
you probably never had

Where my feet have not trod
no earthly trace of foot or shoe
has marked this sleepy lawn still wet with dew
no early birds peck breakfast at their ease
no gossiping wind to whisper through the trees
a day with all its mysteries
still to tease

Toughened glass

Women like me

Still around

You just can't see

We pick up names

As we go through life

Daughter Mother Sister Wife

Our role is often mapped and clear

Then we get to fifty and disappear

We want to shout I'm over here

We're not glam, we're not glum

Just somebody's mum

A little bit shopworn

But we did our bit

We brought up the kids

Took a whole load of sh*t

So please don't ignore us

We matter too

Just you wait till it happens to you

And it will!

The early garden
brings a deeper peace
than any I have known
no sound but wind on leaves
no neighbours barking dog,
for even he must sleep,
his daily yappings not begun
new air, fresh and clean
whispers soft among the green
a drowsy yawning background hum
a space to sip one’s tea
and taste the morning yet to come

Wool gathering

Not writing

Fear has taken my words

A lone and hungry wolf

Hiding in the fold of my mind

I cannot think

My thoughts drift

Like smoke through a window

Out into the air and the light

Where I dare not follow

You cannot waste a word
it is made from breath
released as an airy nothing
an elusive shy and singing bird
that only lands
once it is seen or heard

Word butterflies
free on the wind
they escaped my head
while I was sleeping
the window in my mind
it seems
was open

I see you wriggling
little word-fish  
trying to get away  
behave now
jump in my writer's net  
don't worry, I won't eat you  
just borrow you for a bit  
as bait for bigger things  
stay still
let me fix you to my story hook  
I need to capture a reader

Walk to the edge
where words lie unspoken
silent and broken
on the rocks of the sea of you
if you cannot fish for words
how can you feed yourself
when you hunger for more
along this lonely and uncertain shore

Advice not taken, words not heeded

The sharing of wisdom

Not wanted or needed

Now I am older and I know

Seeds on poor ground

Take some time to grow

The rain is a ****,
she regularly pounds the streets
and plants wet kisses on all she meets
so different from her sister sun
bestowing favours on everyone

We were given a lovely world
but we trampled it and mashed it
beat it up and trashed it,
nobody else to blame
we did it to ourselves
and it's such a ****** shame,
we can't walk away,
we can't say I quit
we made this awful mess
now we have to live in it

The world is insane

It was always so

Now we know about it

We infect each other

With our instant madness

Clever children found the matches

We can all watch the burning!

We have to deal with the emotion
and the fear we have built up in over a year
of being inside
the internal wrecking ball we try to hide
from our nearest and our dearest
when on zoom
as we try to pretend that they are in the room
so now we get to meet in the sun
and to have a little fun, from a distance
at the insistance of the men in grey
who are supposed to be leading the way
back to reality and some form of normality
will we make it this time
climb up and out
lose the doubt and the lack of trust
I guess we must
learn to smile
but it might take a while

I never thought I was the only one

A single ripple among a thousand more

Breaking the surface of the ocean

Not the brightest star to grace the sky

Where millions try to shine

I never thought I was the only one

But I had no idea that there were quite so many fish

Swimming in a crowded pool of words!

What is it makes us take that flight
on wings of fancy, chasing words that keep us up at night
obssessed invaders of our every waking daytime thought
they rule our lives
until at last the writing’s done
we float to earth to rest and sleep
until we start another one

Yearning

When soul fire

Longs to be free

Heart and Bone

Ache

But the words don't come

And beauty is stilled

A dry garden

Dust in the wind

A living thing

empty

With the promise

Of rain

Tomorrow

Humble greetings all
we rise or fall
upon the swords which are our words
steel of critics teeth to edge the blade,
a thousand stings and stabs
or gentle and much softer blows
which fortune falls upon the writers head
is not for us to tell,
what literary hell awaits
who knows

Not quite strong enough to pass,
although I try,
and beat with painted wings upon the glass,
the world beyond the window is where I want to be,
success is the garden, the butterfly is me

Waking early
breathing full the yellow summer air
to drink the quiet and take it to my bones
just me alone, with all the trees and calling birds
no other sound was ever heard, except the breeze
that rushing soulful little tease
who stirs the streams and shakes the grass
where hungry warming rabbits pass
to scratch and stretch and start their day
with hymns of questing honey bees
that drone above the meadow flowers,
and work away the dawning hours

A yen is not a thing
it's the wish
to hold the string
of a yellow balloon
you once lost
on a windy day
in the hills
of your mind

Winter's yellow hound
snores
bats an ear in sleep
with ancient claws
drool from his gums
pools on his paws
as he yawns
and thaws

Life is a river

Flowing across the landscape

Warm and slow in the shallows

Furious in the depths

Of the torrent that is you

There are mountains to cross

And valleys to flood

High times and dry times

And only sometimes

A waterfall

To send you spiralling downwards in free-fall

Carving the earth

To your own design

There are fields to water

Fertile ground

Setting seed that you carry

Onwards

To grow in another place

While you continue

With the wind and the rain

Listening

To the siren call

When your river

Becomes an ocean

Life, that divine eternal spark
did it really start
as a shot in the endless dark
or were we fated
to be created
neatly planned
by a pencil
in some vast immortal hand!

Your blue eyes
saw only sunflowers
painted smoky shades of living truth
frail petals fallen from your artists hand
lay upon the canvas
when sanity became a foreign land
what we failed to understand
you had a lust for life
it's true
we never saw it eating you

A Heart

Is the start

The part

At the centre of you

It will see you through

From beginning to end

You can always depend

On your little red friend

A drop of rain
parts the fur of a captive tiger
it reminds him of the jungle that he has never seen
but there is a poster he can look at
vaguely he plans a holiday
two weeks in the sun
then he heads indoors to his food bowl
and watches the downpour
through the window