Tag Archives: nurture

Salve

We pick the grit from knees life gravel-grazed,
blunt-tweeze with poorly practised pincer grip
and swab the wounds of those that we have raised.
 

As bullies leave our babies dumped and dazed
and scoop cold marrow from the playground skip
we pick the grit from knees life gravel-grazed.
 

Sanguineous crust is used, replaced, erased,
with trembling hands we pull the plaster, rip,
and swab the wounds of those that we have raised.
 

As suitors come and go and hopes are razed
and kisses barb the mouth, fish-hook, cleft lip,
we pick the grit from knees life gravel-grazed.
 

The total sum of care is not appraised,
all debts are crushed as we defer the scrip
and swab the wounds of those that we have raised.
 

When finally our harrowed core has blazed
and youth has sailed on creaking sallow ship
we’ll pick the grit from knees life gravel-grazed
and swab our wounds with those that we have raised.
 
 

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Filed under Villanelle

Counterpane

Sitting in this five hundred thread count womb,
inhaling the scent of lavender and chamomile
as it wafts along the cotton warp and weft,

 

I am soothed by the muted colours that are
only visible, when we allow ourselves
a moment to slip inside.

  

 

 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Cariad

 

Come live in this cave cariad
Come dwell in this candlelit womb
Come wallow in warm, sybaritic storm
Come glister in aqueous gloom

Come cwtch in my arms cariad
Come swallow the warmth of my breast
Come feast your sighs on this ritual dance
Come gaze upon ardour undressed

Come listen to shadows cariad
Come hear their untarnished truth
Come rid yourself of your hellions
Come renounce your renegade youth

Come live in this cave cariad
Come seize the salve to your wound
Come grasp the ancient catholicon
Come revel in rapture cocooned

 

 

 

 

~  I’ve used two Welsh words in this piece that are commonly spoken even by those who speak very little Welsh. Cariad (pronounced carry-ad) means love or a term of endearment as in ‘my love’. Cwtch (pronounced cutch) means hug but the literal meaning is a safe place, so if you give someone a cwtch you are giving them a safe place.

 


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Filed under Poetry, Quatrains

Origami-mama

 

Fingers fold a sheet upon itself;

base formed, sides touching, corners turned,

returned, sharp edges smoothed,

mountains, valleys,

light and shade,

manipulated — a paper

peace crane, serene.

In time,

a geometric remnant.

 

Hands unfold; a bit crumpled,

a bit worn,

creased, released,

sometimes torn,

yet freed, to find

original form;

once again, a simple

single sheet.


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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry