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Please click on the link to read my poem inspired by my recent ramble.
I hope you enjoy my post. The weather has been warm so we’ve been exploring our woodland pathways. As ever, I am inspired so much by my walkhs in the surrounding countryside whilst enjoying the company of my dogs; sometimes joined by my husband and friends.
Misty early morn,
Corn shingle showers
Bless the flowers;
A festival of summer colours,
Candy stripes, mulled wine fine
Carressing petals;
Apricot posies with sanguine stamens!
Cream puffy ruffles, delicious as truffles!
Rosy pink lips that bumble bees kiss.
Whispy wandering webs where tiny feet
Tread tip toed to and fro
Collecting magical scented dew.
Far and wide wood pigeons sigh,
Long-tailed tits flit about finding tasty bits.
Fallen apples ripe and tangy lie
Beneath dangly, tangled bramble boughs.
Hollyhocks and poppyheads rustle
Amongst the bustling of late summer.
Misty early morn,
Corn shingle showers
Bless the flowers;
A festival of summer colours,
Candy stripes, mulled wine fine
Carressing petals;
Apricot posies with sanguine stamens!
Cream puffy ruffles, delicious as truffles!
Rosy pink lips that bumble bees kiss.
Whispy wandering webs where tiny feet
Tread tip toed to and fro
Collecting magical scented dew.
Far and wide wood ppidgeons sigh,
Long-tailed tits flit about finding tasty bits.
Fallen apples ripe and tangy lie
Beneath dangly, tangled bramble boughs.
Hollyhocks and poppyheads rustle
Amongst the bustling of late summer.
I dream about being in a bluebell woodland,
Morning’s dampness on my hands.
I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;
Ask to enter the precious trail.
Bare toes tickling on grassy moss,
Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;
Lost in a deep purple blue lake,
Looking at the shapes the old oak makes,
Their wizened branches seeking light,
Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!
Woodland’s serenade fades gently like a breeze;
I take a sip of Titania’s tea,
Finding myself mixing a pool of morning dew
With soothing dainty hues from the bluebell wood
on my watercolour palette ready for a new painting to emerge.
Hawthorn petals
like a lace wedding veil,
torn in a March gale;
sailing on scented winds
like fairy wings-
bringing spring’s tingling feeling
of happy, lingering, sunny days.
This poem is dedicated to yesterday’s International Poetry Day and a celebration of spring.
I’m really enjoying our walks in the countryside around Cople. Each day I wonder how many more buds are out, what suprises are there under the hedgerows: daisies, celedine, anemonies and tiny violets. Skylarks serenade us along the paths at the edges of fields and red kites circle above. Our prize is watching the brown hares running along the furrows and sunning themselves. Such beauty is to be savoured every moment!
Serene Snowdrop,
Small heart translucent face,
Peeping shyly through downy lace.
Awakened by a sour biting breeze,
Which makes her cower, she
Curls up, sheltering under boughs
Of mighty beech trees.
Suddenly a shower of frosty crystals
Adorn the mysterious, tearful princess,
Crowning her with a spectacular tiara
As the dryad minstrels play their lyres.
The misty morn peels,
Revealing sentinels of wintery fields.
Tallow rays, like a sweet mead glaze
Healing: a warming haze.
Treading through the meadow, footsteps as light as a fae,
Amazingly, brightening the day,
A pretty, pixie flower called sweet violet
Appears alone, shielded by the sleeping hedgerow
And wrapped with ivy and bay.
Rhapsodic roses
Tumbling from pergolas
Showering our senses with
Aromatic essences;
Dreamy marshmallow,
Teeny fairy dancers,
Sprinkles of sherbet,
So tangy with a hint of lemon curd;
Silky peach petals so delightful,
Fluttering in buttery summer light.
Rain revives waning blossom,
A faded, aged May Queen’s trane.
Tuneful, cooling teeny tears
Fall from scented ‘ears’,
Dissolving fears;
Blessing those who choose
To be the poet’s muse
And walk along the enchanted lane.
Yesterday,we waited forever for the torrential rain to ease so that we could
Luxurious Tulips
Like dancers’ rippling tunics;
Their hips swivelling and
Hands twizzling hoops
Which swoop, cascading to tunes
Played on pixie flutes.
Lavender Moon: Artist, Poet and Lover of Nature 
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