Considering how horrendous this week has been (and continues to bite, even at the weekend) I’m really proud of our pair of poems at restart. What it proves is that if you work hard enough, and for long enough, poetry can happen. It is the same theory as training muscles or learning a new language. Now I come to think of it, that’s exactly the combination of skills required for poetic development…
Moisture drawn within: pale skies smoothed, gold leaf
ends harshest heat, broken Summer. Bring forth
calmer breeze, breathe quieter evening moments,
burnt chaff spirals, organic drifts away.
Anticipating solstice, build rich mounds
blackberry, apple pilfered: bag and bowl
smuggled prize escapes hedgerows. Loaded tree
groans pleasure; flesh-wrapped seed, succulent treat.
Year moves quietly, leaves soft indentations
twisted twirl, country dance with smoke-soaked reels
Dragged mulch, rake scrapes, dry earth still parched, arid
desert planet struggling, fractured self.
Remember past, moments scored; ask Autumn,
redefine personal progress. Leaving
past detritus, baked sacrifice offered;
plated dessert course satisfies far more.
Legacy of pie, fruit stuffed rewarding
past year’s hard work, redefinition marks
quiet criticism pyre, soft ashes smeared.
Face’s dark warpaint: let battle begin.