POND POEMS

POND POEMS

High summer

In summer we become hermits
Semi-nocturnal, coming to water
At dawn or dusk, whenever
The sun-seekers have dispersed
Or cannot see us

Only as glimpsed shadows
Flickering amongst the glades
Disappearing, almost before
We have begun

Autumn swim

We were grasping
For the last gasps of summer’s
Leavings. Bits of leaf,
Sticks, a wonder-full

Lily-leaf, huge and
Juiced, with all the
Season’s stock.
Not many of us left

Now. Dribs and drabs
Daring the coming cold,
Foretelling of life’s loss
As wind and light dooms us all

Late Autumn

Entering, the cold chill
Pricks the skin
Penetrates
Into my bones
Lungs gasp for oxygen wealth.
Light, green, brown
Silver glimmerings
Tease my eyes
Death lurks
The deep shadows.


Kingfisher

Usually skittish, elusive
Dropping slivers of gold,
Silver, turquoise

Like a Native American jewel
Skimming across the pond

But today, a standing stone,
A totem dolmen
Upon the willow
You allow me to drift
Silently in prayer beneath

On Missing A Swim

The golden field, green, red,
Watered by the sun
Turned every shade of light
You might imagine

There, lurks no shadow
Only promise; no regrets
Only potential. Life is more
Than poetry tell, or music score

Green Cave

Switch off
Shut down
What cannot be
Obtained, does not
Exist. If I shut
My eyes, you don’t
Exist. Go away.

Shut out
Shut in
The world
A million miles away
This universe is soundless
The water closes in




No second chance

We waited, sitting in the car
In the rain. Too wet
To get out. No umbrellas

The plum grey skies
Made it clear that
Exit was impossible

The Heath, too muddy
for your delicate feet
Barred the way today

Daily hangover

No voice
Only what You speak

No ears
Only what You hear

No sight
Only what You see

No touch
Only Yours

No smell
Only Your scent

No I
Only You


The Prisoner

Be seeing you
Down by the old straight track
Follow that star to the ley-line
Meet you again
By Boudicca’s grave
Save me a seat
At the back.