Poetry Blogs (hearth)

Ritual

It is a grey morning

I am awake early

The backdoor is open

And cool air enters the kitchen

My father is on his knees

Scrubbing a wire brush

On the fire grate

Newspapers on the floor

He takes a rag

And pours black lead

Onto the stiffened fibres

Then he smears it

Onto the scrubbed surfaces

He balls up the newspaper

And throws it on the hearth

Read and leave comments (0)

I Remember Never Wanting It To
End, Like Always,
Fear Of The Over.
Is It Nearly Almost Over?
It’s Like,
Every Time I Smile
I’m A Liar To Myself.
Like You’re Looking At Me……
Happy Or Guilty?
We Look….

Read and leave comments (0)

The trees still sentinel stood

their green leaves whispering

rustling gently in the wood

in the same soft breeze

and I know some summer birds

sang in their canopy

a requiem without words

'neath the same blue sky

that through every passing year

quietly watched over me

safe within Ceredig's sphere

It has been too long a time

since our firs...

Read and leave comments (0)