A Crockful of Cooking

There's a crockful of cooking going on downstairs.
The sweet breath of garlic, shallots and leek
are whispering to me.
They have snaked up through the bannisters
and left their promises.

The comforting smells and sounds
of my daughter cooking in the kitchen.
I can feel the love being stirred into the pot
and I cannot wait to taste it.

Pictures Words Paint

Deep contemplation of 'Right Speech'
and now once more before I speak
what is it I am listening to?
My words will paint pictures
around the world
and what pictures
are these that I am painting?

Necessary Words

I know my brain doesn't want to put more than a few necessary words one after another. Never mind a whole creative sentence that might paint some pretty picture of somewhere or something pleasant and possible even if it is in some other world away across a rainbow or on the other side of the beach through a cave in the cliff wall where the waves crash and cannot fully follow and who bellow their frustrtaion at the rocks that rise above them and grind away the sand as they gather momentum to heave at the walls once again.

Pink Clouds

Tiny peachy pink clouds
touching fingers so tenderly
with the rising sun.

Early morning bird noises
cooing doves
chirping house sparrows
cawing crows
and Robin's morning cheeps.

They are all I can hear
they are all I can bear
my thinking is so far from clear
Oh, another tear.

Small Stone that isn't

I wrote a small stone for today but
it sounded so inane now when I re-read it.
The rain is so incessant.
Tomorrow is tomorrow
but today I can't help fearing it.
Once more poison in my veins
and days to come of just more pain.
So here it is - today's small stone;

Again
the rain
against the glass.
I wish
I were
on a tall ship.
Sailing
on a blue sea.
Standing
on a sunny deck
a sail
flapping on the mast.

Down the Drain

growth brings change
changing shape
sheds skin
leaves fade and fall
branches break
love lost
sand slipping
hands not holding
rain running
down the drain
empty.

Frosty

Icy frostiness,
swirly patterns,
and Robin sings.
The light slips slowly
over the horizon
changing the sky
to the softest blue.
Another cycle
begins again
and all will be new.

 

 

The Black Silhouette

The black silhouette
of the tall tall trees
and the rattle of the rain
as it falls from their leaves
when the wind blows.

Birds Wings

Have you ever listened
to the rush
of wings?
Birds overhead
flying
like the wind.
Going home,

Teacup

The slow, almost hypnotic rhythm
of stirring tea in a cardboard cup.
It's almost matching
the clickety clack
of the train on the track.
The long dark of the night
sliding past
outside the carriage window.
There are street lights,
orange fireflies.
I am hung in my seat
words dripping and drowning
my otherwise thoughts.

  

Not So Small Stone

'Lift my heart' I cried
send the beat
deep
into my mind.
Smile, smile, smile
though my feet ache with every mile.
Where do I go?
Do I travel too slow?
Do I even Know
where I am headed?
The next moment, dreaded?
Seeds of hope.......
scattered
battered
tumbling like a stone
through the hollows in my bones.
Down a steep slope.
Hope?

Morning Pages

Walking round and round inside my head
I spill the words as yet unread.
My morning pages scribbled down
with black ink letters on the run.
One smudge, two smudge, now they're done.

A Knock on the Door

I am sure I heard
a knock at the door.
I stumbled downstairs
to the ground floor.
Fumbling along, it was so dark
and the wind was blowing
so hard.
I heard something fall
and someone's voice call.

It was next door.

Copyright 3rd February 2013

Down on the River

Down on the river
where the big ships dock
there's a clank,
a clunk,
a seagull's scream
and the bell 
on the boat
rings the seaman's tea.

Copyright 1st February 2013