A Poem a day - day 69 to 76

69

Ruby force of life

Blooms brightly out from my palm:

Freed by accident 

70

Morning 

Slow train crawl, then trundles to a halt 

Hemmed in on either side, by

Bright graffiti sprayed walls

Above us insipid sky

 Evening 

Train rockets along at speed

Through pastel spring sunset

Taking weary travellers home 

To replenishment and rest. 

71

Hidden from view

Silently churning the fog

Hated by some 

But today there is no view

For the turbines to interrupt

I love theses space age wind mills

Elegant aliens milling electricity 

No longer wheat. 

72

Tendrils of mist lift skywards

Like these minutes spinning away from me

As I sit in this conference room,

Through the gauze covered windows

The sky clarifies and solidifies 

As the sun sucks up the fog

But in here our thoughts remain opaque

Rubbed smooth and blurred

By the presentations, key note address

And a feedback session stretching on forever. 

At lunch time I escape 

To a day gleaming like new healed skin

There's a shininess and shimmer to the roundabout

That I sit by, sipping a latte

As drills gurgle from building sites 

London is in a hurry 

But the conference room I'll return to

Will gently snooze through the afternoon

Wrapped in the duvet of grey corporate fluff.

73

Grey cloud,

Fog,

Papery sun

Glimpsed through mist

A day of soft edges

Slow moving thoughts

And stillness. 

  

74

Robin

Perched on the highest branch

Red feathers blazing in the sun

To me his song is a chilly lament 

A melancholy remembrance 

Of lonely long ago winters

Breathtakingly beautiful

But to other robins his vocal acrobatics

Are like a football hooligans chant

A thugs shouted taunts

A landowners growling threat

"You're not welcome round here!

Get off my land!

Stay away from my woman!" 

75

The edge of the flood plane

Sloping sunlight slices through the trees

Their dead leaves rattle, brittle fingers wagging

The land ahead of us has been churned by machine

Made ugly with tracks cut deep in grey mud

What was once verdant now looks desolate

Scrubbed empty by flood waters before the digger arrived. 

76

The empty house relaxes into its self

Walls creaking softly as the heating clucks,

In the kitchen the fridge grumbles 

And the clocks tick slightly out of time. 

I feel the space around me expand

As these quiet usually unnoticed sounds

Fill the space and flourish.