Poetry Blogs (2017, storms)
This is my vision of a certain cast of English village (not so much in springtime).
March winds stir listless eddies,
fluke in tired gusts over thin pools,
flare through fields of stubble
then flag, exhausted, sour and wheezing
from the blowing day;
coughing, rubbing arthritic fingers,
cold as a church bell sounds the hours.
Spring will be late this...
Saturday 23rd December 2017 3:13 am
Saturday 11th November 2017 3:54 pm
Shades of grey paint happy faces on my thoughts
As the cool breeze sets my mind on chill
Flashes of light brightens the beyond
If only for a moment
And that moment sits and simmers for a lifetime
I’m at the most calm when there’s rain drops
When everything else slows down
And the dust in the air dissipates
Senses are charmed by those rain drops
Inhibitions lose thei...
Wednesday 6th July 2016 11:46 am
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Freda Davis on (6 hours ago)