Tag Archives: Summer

Ferns

ferns
 

The sound arrives
on the tail of rain;
low-level hum
held in fiddlehead cocoons.
 

We listen, rapt,
as tender vibrations
climb velvety stems
bathed in long summer light
 

and as I lay half-curled
in the crook of your smile,
we turn our arms to the sun
and let the newness unfurl.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Strawberry Crush


 
 

We lull in hammocked hum of summer days,
cocooned within our hessian-tilted hush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Our skin soft-spun in gifted lithium rays,
hair honey-combed beneath Belenus’ brush,
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days.
 

Gold buttercupping chins in pollen haze,
our creamy cheeks full-fill with nascent blush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Oak blossom, broom and meadowsweet ablaze,
while grifting scents from freshly-cut grass crush
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days.
 

With eager lips we feast on juicy fraise,
tongues quenched as we devour vermilion rush,
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 

Suspended far above the ticking baize
and bathed in season’s smooth lutescent flush,
we lull in hammocked hum of summer days
sift cerulean blues from grey malaise.
 
 

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Filed under Poetry, Villanelle

One year on

A year since lain in langour’s lap, cradled
in the receding arms of an Indian Summer,
indigo-script yearnings
incarnated in season’s departure.
 

Exultant, slipped deep
into the contours of a fiery landscape,
first breath of Autumn rough-brushed on lips,
blistering hips ripeplump on boughs.
 

Purple shadows of bruised fruit scattered
beneath October’s ochre lava,
sticky sap released to run glistening
down the deep-riven bark of parched elms.
 

This year only memories harvested,
faint echoes of a stillborn sadness,
stored in the larder to stave off the hunger
of Winter’s dearth.
 

But come Spring cold hands will plunge
into the darkness of a peaty earth,
chocolate-moist crumbly balm
to papery palms as they scrabble to plant
hope’s cherished raspberry-leaf embryos.
 

Nurture from the womb-like land and watch,
while succulent shoots sprout green and hungry,
reaching for the succour of a season re-birthed.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse