Author: The Wombwell Rainbow
The Gust
Gust says ‘ I can make hills jump,
and seas hills, I can make you suffer.’
You’re a bully’ says the quiet earth.
Gust says ‘I belong.’ then disappears.
Soil shouts ‘Who to?’
‘ I belong here.’ to Gust already gone
Gust returns lifts soil to another place.
Gust tumbled through the grass blades
‘I’ll spoil your hairdo.’,
‘Spread my seeds’ replied grass
‘I can always redo my hair later.’
Gust to rock ‘I will wear you down. I swear.’
and promptly forgot what it said.
Gust returned with grit in its teeth
unaware of what it had said.
Gust blew dead leaves into a blazing swirl.
‘I can make you live again’ it said.
No reply,
but a rustle from leaves on the tree above.
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Autumnal wealth? The Abundance
Halloween brings more than ghosts The Abundance
The Abundance
Brought abundance for the winter
Down from Summer’s high warmth
Abundance stored as welcome wealth
Rests ready for the darkening
Brought from hedgerows, woods
abundance of wild damsons, sloes,
rosehips, elderberries, blackberries,
hawthorn berries, nutmeg, cinnamon
Fruit is the seed carrier.
What is this ghost of a leaf?
Where is the pattern it makes?
How does the pattern of a leaf
Become a ghost of its tree?
It is the season of the open door.
It is the reason of half day of light
It is the reason of half day of dark
We stand between days, colder
On that eve of halves
When we go disguised
From old ghosts, new ghosts
Cold door to warm door
In hope of gifts and a smile.
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A short poem on apple the fruit The Apple
The Apple
Fresh apple sliced width wise
Inhale, lick, listen, touch, see
North, South, East, West, Within
A pentangle of seeds
Circumnavigate edge
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The Hollower
What is that moment
When life has left?
How does that glint
In their eyes disappear?
When does flesh
In the held hand become cold?
Make hollower the hollow house
Pack her delicate ornaments
Treasured trinkets in three
Cardboard boxes: Rubbish, Keep, Charity.
Keeps are bubble wrapped, newspaper parcelled
Rubbished tin cans, fridge food, perishables
Charity clothes, some unworn, still packaged in plastic
It was not in the just after midnight
Quiet bungaloed street
It was not the alarming mobile ring
Rushed answer
It was news my sister died
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