Poetry Blog by Hazel ettridge

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Stephen Atkinson on The Wind (Sun, 20 Sep 2020 06:27 pm)

Poems hub on After The Storm (Wed, 12 Aug 2020 01:04 pm)

Paul Sayer on The State of Things (Fri, 7 Aug 2020 10:54 am)

Tom on The State of Things (Fri, 7 Aug 2020 10:22 am)

on The State of Things (Fri, 7 Aug 2020 09:31 am)

keith jeffries on The State of Things (Fri, 7 Aug 2020 09:03 am)

Hazel ettridge on The Darkness (Fri, 3 Jul 2020 09:48 am)

Martin Elder on The Darkness (Thu, 2 Jul 2020 03:04 pm)

Paul Sayer on The Darkness (Wed, 1 Jul 2020 03:02 pm)

on The Darkness (Wed, 1 Jul 2020 02:45 pm)

Perfect Haiku

Hi, this is an old image poem of mine (the first thing I wrote when I got into writing poetry a few years ago) that came back to me as I woke this morning in the form of a perfect Haiku.

What is a poem?

A murmuration of words

Landing precisely

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Damascus moment

Here on the snooker table

I'm a ping pong ball

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Beach Meditation 26.09.20

Where does it come from this surge of delight?

As I watch the blue, grey, white, light and shade of clouds

And feel their gentle invitation.

"Come" they say "Or stay. We're with you either way."

They welcome me, and all of me.

The sneak, the cheat, the liar, the bully, the thief.

The lost, the blundering, the ignorant, the bored one.

The million hopeful answers and the hidden ...

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The Wind

I know only this breeze on my cheek

I know nothing of the countless other faces you have caressed and bitten

I know nothing of the houses you have assaulted and battered

Or the seas you have stirred into tumult and storm

I don't know where you end or where you begin

I know you were blowing both treble and bass through bamboo pipes

Long before I came here

And you will be rustli...

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Crisis Averted

In the blink of an eye, the humans had blown across the planet,

Like the North Wind, in a gale of crazy-making,

Leaving chaotic striations of human mischief in their wake.

Then they were gone. 

Reparation began.

The trees reclaimed the earth.

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The One

The one hiding in the dark, on the edges - the self who has been denied, made wrong, shamed.

The one bathing in the light, in the centre - the self who has been selected, groomed, made acceptable.

The one turning to stone in the dark cave - who doesn't fit with the story I'm telling myself.

The one I leave standing or turn away or ignore when she arrives at my door.

The one I'm always ...

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After The Storm

Lying face down

Black loamy soil in her eyes, nostrils, mouth

Rain slashing and puddle pooling 

Her body a pelt


Winds howling their rage against distancing rules

Push against her

Push into her

Pummel her with gusts like fists

Hold her and throw her


All that she has been

All that she has done

Ground into the earth

Lost in the great soak-away


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The State of Things

We poison the well and wonder why

There is no drinking water in the tap.

We kill the bees and wonder why

There is no food on supermarket shelves.

We ravage the earth and wonder why

The floods and fires come.

We prise open the box and wonder why

Pandora's pandemics pour forth.

We close our eyes

And wonder who to blame.

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The Darkness

Written in a moment when I'd just had enough of man's cruelty, ignorance, arrogance, carelessness and wanted to hide myself away- but realised the opposite was what was required in these times.

The Darkness

The Darkness wakes us from the slumber of complacency.

Only from sitting alone in darkness do we discover our heart-wrenching longing for light.

Only by facing the horrors, feeling ...

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I Cant Breath

I can't breathe

Said the man full of colour

To the man

Whose colour had drained away

Along with his humanity.

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Friday Prayer

I was reluctant to go out

It would be cold, damp and boring

Just like yesterday and the days before.

I walked along the sea front,

Stopped for a mug of tea at Eddie's.

Then I turned back to the car .....

The sky had been obliterated

By lowering charcoal clouds

Beneath which, a ribbon of burning copper

Flamed along the horizon above

Multiple metallics of glittering sea...

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Haiku for Life

To sit amidst trees

And watch a spider, silent,

Spin her silken web.

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