| |
grey
: blue :
white : green :
glow :
red :
brown :
purple :
pink :
black
The sky is shades of grey.
The smoke, or may-
be steam, pouring
from a rather boring-
looking chimney (attached
to a grey building, match-
ing the grey tar
of the car
park) is released
not in the least
vertically,
but horizontally.
The grey-backed gulls
await lulls
in the wind, to get
settled, and let
the wind blow over
them, as they take cover
on the grey tin
roof. Others in-
dulge themselves in flight
of fancy, gaining height
on the under-
currents. I wonder
if they
see their world as always grey?
19 July 2001
back to top
From the garden, I see
The blue water rippling rhythmically.
It’s clear, one of those perfect days;
I stand and gaze.
Above me circles a curlew
On a background of blue,
Shrieking her name, worried lest
The cats disturb her nest.
Close by, the cornflowers flourish,
And nourish
My senses with their particular hue
Of blue,
Similar in sensuous tone
To that of the Virgin’s stone –
That icon of acceptance
And absence;
Of the joy blue can bring,
And the sadness of longing.
23 July 2001
back to top
The blank paper is beckoning.
I don’t know what to say.
Mt mind is empty; I was not reckoning
On writing any poetry today.
But when,
Yesterday lunchtime,
I saw the gannet in flight, then
I wanted to write, but rhyme
There came not. His ink-
Tipped wings
Made me think
Of all sorts of beautiful things
To say, as the wind blew
And fluffed every wave crest
To cloud. The gannet flew,
Taking no rest,
His back briefly silver in the sun.
Whilst on the cliff a daisy
Bobbed in the wind, dancing for the sheer fun
Of being. And the usually lazy
Billowy clouds sped
Across the space above,
While the milky horizon led
My thoughts to someone I love.
25 July 2001
back to top
Olive and lime, bottle and
jade,
Every imaginable shade.
Tune the senses, feast the eyes,
Revel in the surprise.
Green rampantness prevails
Throughout the dales,
The clifftops and the hills.
Lush luxuriance fills
The garden hedgerow,
And the nooks where the wild flowers grow.
And burgeoning full,
The vegetable
Patch portends
Its veritable dividends.
So much so,
That I will never know
Or understand
The demand
For beans or peas of equal size,
Nor the desire to artificially fertilise.
6 August 2001
back to top
What colour is glow?
Is it the yellow
Of the wild loostrife
Bursting forth into life
In the secret seclusion
Of the end of my garden?
Or maybe it’s the salmon pink
Of clouds, as the sun, on the brink
Of bedding down to invite
The night
To have its sway,
Concludes its day
By lavishing
A light so ravishing
Upon the unsuspecting sky,
That, overwhelmed, all I
Can do is stand in wonder
And ponder
That such glorious beauty, so ephemeral
Is equally unending, eternal.
6 August 2001
back to top
Red, pendulous, hanging
there,
Ripened by the weather’s fair
Benison; plump, rounded, ready
To become part of that heady
Experience of taste,
Smell and texture – once placed
In my anticipating
Mouth.
The waiting
Is over. My fingers pluck
The strawberry. It’s in my mouth. I suck
For a second or two,
Then sink my teeth into
The yielding flesh, and savour
The intoxicating flavour.
And then, a few more moments past,
It is no more. It could not last.
16 August 2001
back to top
Poor old brown, much
maligned,
Underestimated. Few are kind
To you. Few raise
Your profile from the ways
Of shabby, downtrodden,
Un-cool, un-modern
Ignominy.
But look, and see
This colour in another
Light. For mother
Earth displays
In countless ways
Warmth and fertility
And the ability
To transform herself from umber
To every colour you could number.
Then see the skylark,
Making his mark
With his song, on high
A brown dot suspended in the sky.
And think of all the beautiful
People in the world; people
Whose skin and eyes and hair
One shade of brown or another share.
23 August 2001
back to top
The colour purple. What
Makes it what it is?
Or, indeed, what it is not?
Do my eyes and his
See the same rich
Reddened blue?
And is the purple which
I see, the same hue
In his mind’s eye?
Maybe the colour he sees
As purple, would be green in my
Experience. Purple grass and trees!
But he would call it green,
Because grass is green; that is what
We’ve all been taught, so all have seen
As green. Not
Purple.
27 August 2001
back to top
Dippy pink, fluffy,
flighty,
Powder puff, frilly nightie,
Over-scented celebrity –
But definitely,
Certainly,
Simply
NOT me!
28 August 2001
back to top
Black currant
Black berry
Black olive
Black cherry
Blackbird
Raven, crow
Black death
Black widow
Black forest
Blackland
Black tie
Velvet band
Black cloud
Black night
Total absence
Of light
Black coal
Black tar
Vinyl roofed
Ford car
Black pudding
Blackjack
Black plastic
Refuse sack
Black beauty
Black power
Black market
Black tower
Black leg
Head, eye
Black cab
Blackfly
Black panther
Black cat
Black hole….
And that’s that!
12 September 2001
back to top |
