Poetry Blog by Andy Ainsworth

Recent Comments

M.C. Newberry on Winter's Song (Thu, 26 Dec 2013 04:01 pm)

Dave Bradley on Winter's Song (Thu, 26 Dec 2013 12:00 pm)

Andy Ainsworth on Hidden horizons (Tue, 17 Dec 2013 10:19 pm)

Harry O'Neill on Hidden horizons (Tue, 17 Dec 2013 12:44 pm)

Andy Ainsworth on Hidden horizons (Mon, 16 Dec 2013 11:41 pm)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Hidden horizons (Mon, 16 Dec 2013 01:20 pm)

Lynn Dye on Hidden horizons (Sun, 15 Dec 2013 08:25 pm)

Rose Casserley on Hidden horizons (Sat, 14 Dec 2013 10:44 am)

M.C. Newberry on Mourning for summer (Tue, 21 May 2013 01:56 pm)

Andy Ainsworth on Traces of you (Tue, 23 Apr 2013 01:24 am)

Imagine a day

Imagine a day.

Not any particular day,

just a day, one like any other.

One born in the bright dawn

of a morning.

A day that dies like any other

under the death shroud

of the night sky.

 

Imagine a day

where ordinary things,

the morning's coffee

the commute to work

the lunchtime walk

the sounds,

just the sounds of the day,

and the evening

just the ...

Read and leave comments (0)

Winter's Song

It starts as nothing more than air.

The curl of frozen breath or a

hint of smoke collapsed on the wind

icing latent tress laid bare.

Carried through winter's dark womb

of hard silver frosts. Muted snow

a million silent lights, sharp

in the stiffening cold, a harp-

song of hope. Until suddenly

it's obvious. Obvious like

the moon, full on a cloudless night,

through t...

Read and leave comments (2)

ChristmasWinter

Hidden horizons

Slightly amended with comments from WOL users

Small rivers on the train window,
rain refracts grey light, distorts landscapes
moving backwards towards the origin.

Distance swallowed in cloud,
colours washed until the remains
are indeterminate shapes and sky.

Ah the sky! So bloated and low.
Could I reach, push it back,
reveal hidden horizons?

Read and leave comments (2)

Hidden horizons

Rain as small rivers on the train window
refracts grey light, distorts landscapes
moving backwards towards the origin.

Distance swallowed in cloud,
colours washed until the remains
are indeterminate shapes and sky.

Ah the sky! So bloated and low.
Could I reach, push it back,
reveal hidden horizons?

Read and leave comments (4)

 

 
 
The house stands empty breathing
A mournful sigh, its movement
The only sound as dusk muffles the day.
I look for traces of you amid the stillness.
Lipstick on a wine glass. Your lips.
A book fallen open. My eyes
Mirrored orbs reflecting words on a page.
In your clothes poured on the floor
I see your fluid form dancing.
A scattered pile of c...

Read and leave comments (0)

Mourning for summer

The rain falls in vindictive little spikes

On this cold May afternoon. The month

Claws itself from the endless winter towards

A season lurking beyond the horizon

Consumed in the darkening Brume.

 

A figure stands on the corner, stooped

With collar stiff in vain protection. 

The mirrored pavement reflecting a form

As withered as the look he flashes

At the ...

Read and leave comments (1)

Traces of you

I have reposted this with some minor changes suggested by helpful contributors to WOL

As I sit upon

This empty bed

White cotton frayed

From nights

That punctuate 

This thin veneer

Of wakefulness

I look for traces of you.

Read and leave comments (3)

Traces of you

As I sit upon

This empty bed

White cotton frayed

From nights

That punctuate 

This thin veneer

Of wakefulness

I look for traces of you.

Read and leave comments (5)

alonelifeLove

The Darkening Brume

What light across the cloudless bay

Falls placid on thy peerless face

Relected on the now calm sea?

That in its rage did toss in

Tidal abandon the wreckage

Of the human condition cast

Recklessly from the shore.

 

Do not despair nor fling thy dreams

From this vapid spit which clings by

Wiry Marram to this wretched

Isle, detritus ringed on littoral

...

Read and leave comments (2)

Dreams

These books that lie

beside your bed

in towers that climb

beyond this spartan room,

Hold words that -

as I watch you read -

form dreams upon

your stormless face;

And free from the

anchor of the day

I see you fly

Read and leave comments (1)

Morning

entry picture

 

Awoken
By your touch
Kissing my cheek with
The grace of a feather
From the bird
That glides
Through the delicate sunshine 
Of the early morning sky
Outside my window
 

Read and leave comments (2)

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message