a scarecrow screams
wood pigeons rise
they can't believe their beady eyes
across the fields
he stiffly strides
years of east winds in his sides
its love he lacks
he's getting old
he wants to come in from the cold
there was a cry
one of his own,
from miles away over walls of stone
what will she think?
is he her type?
imagines her framed ...
Saturday 9th October 2021 10:47 am
Where the fragrant heather moorland borders
wildwood, by the crags above the river,
the harebells and last fading heads of clover
nod themselves to sleep in drowsy August.
The ling is now full-on and tightly ordered
spikes of tiny flowers blanket over
the landscape like an Emperor’s purple toga
swathed across the heights, but thrice more gorgeous.
The fated grouse may look ...
Saturday 18th August 2018 10:31 am
THE DARK TOWER
On the barren northern moors
lies a dark lonely tower.
No one ever goes there,
not a bird sings or a rabbit jumps.
This is the place of loneliness
and of despair and foreboding.
The sky is a leaden grey and
the wind howls around the tower.
Long lost souls cry for release.
Some may be your friends of long ago
or some lo...
Saturday 10th September 2011 1:44 pm