Welcome.......

Welcome to my 'small stone' blog.
I hope you find
something here that will touch your heart. The poems here will all be very short, some will be a Haiku style, and were prompted by the 'a river of stones' project: http://ariverofstones.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-is-small-stone.html
Please sign my
guest book, your comments will be much appreciated.

Friday, 31 January 2014

31. Inflamed




Bright and burning
with a desire to fire
the gasses hiss
and the flames get higher.
Like lip touched coals
(the vision of Isaiah)
a pyrotechnic poem
leaps from the pyre.

Thursday, 30 January 2014

30. Heart of stone




Among the random pebbles
and glistening vibrant colours
this stone speaks.
It may resemble a heart
but it does not pulse,
it is fixed
until some passing rock
chips another facet
in its superficial hardness
or the roughage of arbitrary tides
smooth its surface against
its fellows.
How alike we are.

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

29. bystanders




Boulders stand at a distance
staring at the youth
dressed to impress
beyond the hedgerow.
Their weather-worn facets
the wrinkling of age and exposure
and centuries of standing still.

With a single eye the stare is returned
as the tower considers
it’s destiny.


28. peacock




A sun burst of dawning eyes
flaunted, regal, romancing –
the allure in azure shades
and tender ballet dancing.

Monday, 27 January 2014

27. Avebury's henge




Summer flirts on the chalk path -
a dusty hedge encompassing Avebury’s henge.
Five thousand summers have blessed this place
their footfalls on other mystic paths
through undiscovered stones,
buried by time,
beneath tourists daily feet.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

26. aerodrome




From high vantage
the wing commander
scans for safe passage
as his legion
awaits command.



Friday, 24 January 2014

25. First sitting




Like Braille upon a page
or music on a stave
waiting to be read
the starling cacophony
sits in chorus
murmering.

24. Easter Island at Lindisfarne ?



Wooden monoliths;
their larch lapped facades
peek from the soil
to glimpse a greener vista.
Turning their backs
on seafaring
they store landlubbered
memories
and tools for a journey
they will never take.
Rain whipping in the wind,
flagellant upon their keels,
raps staccato morse messages
unintelligible Babel rantings
in the winter storms.
Their underbellies consider
the riding of waves
and surf-spray caresses
as bright exposure
strips their hulls.


Wednesday, 22 January 2014

23. underneath the arches




Underneath the arches
culvert and path
pass
undisturbed.
Water streams noisily
to join its brethren -
the homogeny of river
searching for sea level.
The walker,
in her own flow
of quieter contemplation,
treads a path
upstream –
the source more enticing
than the standardisation
of oceans.


22. more small stones




The newly fallen -
sharply crisp,
unblunted by jog and jostle,
fresh faced
fractured revelations of antiquity.
Ancient past
exposed
to contemporary eyes.


Monday, 20 January 2014

21. willows




In silent mourning
the willow
weeps
beside a tarmac stream.
Its watery companion
usurped by fume
and ‘progress’.
Rainstorms try to reclaim
their lost territory
in sodden salvoes.
A torrent
of angry motorists
discharge broadside bombardments
across the pathway
wetting the feet of the trees,
bringing reminiscences
from within the rings.



20. 'out of the strong came forth sweetness'




The day bids farewell
with honey on its lips -
like golden syrup
slipping slowly
from a spoon.




Judges  14 v 4  ‘ Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness.
quoted on Tate & Lyle’s  Golden syrup tins 



Saturday, 18 January 2014

19. candy floss




A pink rose-cloud
of stranded sugar
taunts the tastebuds
with its sticky
tentacles.
In the background
a brash soundtrack
of brassy pop music
and screams
from spinning cages 
and undodged dodgems.


  

18. The gurning hedgerow




Green ogres line the path
gurning at passers-by
running the gauntlet of their glances.
Or are they hiding their eyes ?
Leafy hands protecting
lest they see their reflection
in some random glass.

Topiarists have been at work;
green-fingered sunlight
 petrifying  these Trolls.
The coming of dawn -
the application
of discriminating secateurs.


Friday, 17 January 2014

17. unwrapping




No longer Christmas day
and the urgent unwrapping
of that day fades -
the discarded paper
 dispatched to the bin.
What will you unwrap today,
little man?
The revelation of a new day
pristine in its wrappings,
content hidden from sight.




Wednesday, 15 January 2014

16. ....suddenly




The sun suddenly hides
within darkness
and the temperature freefalls
in a squall of angry wind.
Clouds clap their  thunder
in celebration of victory
to the rapturous applause
of the bouncing hail.


15. coming or going




Shielded in a confusion of steam
the proclamation of piston
announces movement
but does not reveal
direction.


Tuesday, 14 January 2014

14. off season




The sun scatters light flakes on the sea
lightly dusting its radiance
upon the undulating mirror.
Meanwhile the town yawns
in its dearth of visitors
and its out of season sleepiness.


Monday, 13 January 2014

13. at dusk




At dusk the final
 blush of day flushes colour
into a shadow.


Sunday, 12 January 2014

12. trimmings




Beyond twelfth night.
The gentle drip
of pseudo Spring
slips from the frosted
trimmings
of decorated trees
as Christmas
loses its sparkle.


Saturday, 11 January 2014

11. North sea contemplation




Warmer days
and calmer seas;
a gentle touch
ministrates to tired toes.
Lost in thought
while the reflection
drowns in sodden sand.


Friday, 10 January 2014

10. the invitation of satin




What glides within me
at the highlights of satin
and its swirl of sheen;
the glossy movement
of sliding colour
and the finger-tip touch of glass ?
The temptation to handle -
I am an ice-skater
early to the lake,
I am
a ski-jumper
on an avalanche
of shades.

Thursday, 9 January 2014

9. shivered timbers




Alone,
marooned in the field
like an abandoned pirate,
the tree faces the cold
with shivered timbers.



Wednesday, 8 January 2014

8. wandering home



Afternoon,
the sheep tempts providence
and the possibility of trolls
to cross the bridge home.
Rickety,
and heavy with wool,
the risk fades
with the nearing
of the other side.

Tuesday, 7 January 2014

7. the bridge stares




The bridge looks like spectacles.
I wonder if it looks downstream
to the things that have passed
spreading like the ripples
of history,
or stares upstream
expectantly to the fresh flow
of early rain.


Monday, 6 January 2014

6. the cockerel in the sky




The clouds are crowing,
growing stronger
and promise
a laying
of rain
if the chickens
ure up for it.




Sunday, 5 January 2014

5. in the story




Wrapped in soft warmth,
enfolded in an afterglow of bath-time,
words cuddle the imagination
as the story unfolds.


Saturday, 4 January 2014

4. footprint

photo: Houghton Regis Chalk quarry 26th Jan 2013



Footprints in the snow
the kisses of feet
on shallow skin
and
the sinking feeling of love.

Friday, 3 January 2014

3. does the tree have a memory




Can the tree remember
yesterday, bedecked,
in the warm and dry
dripping with lights and tinsel
and the clamour of Christmas cheer.
Somehow it looks sad
back in the garden
and the celebration of birds.


Thursday, 2 January 2014

2. Traces



There are traces of my journey
in the souls of my friends,
long forgotten and rusting,
building a skeleton
and hiding in unsought memories.


Wednesday, 1 January 2014

1. waving at trains


The trees stand on pathway edge,
branches waving,
like friends
to a departing train.