Groaning, hollow seedheads reach,
Dark shifts crystal ball.
I haven’t written a Haiku for a long while. It’s simpl
In the Fairy Wood a cool wind sings
Songs of summer past: Larks and cherry blossoms
Rambling roses for fairy posies.
Speckled yellow, ruby and rust leaves swirl,
Crunching under toes.
Dappled light, warm and bright Iilluminates
faces of forest mythological creatures,
A shadow show emerging; tree nymphs, Boris the troll
And frolocking fairies.
Brooding skies like galloping waves,
Tallow mallow ggiant’s fists!
Twisters suck up golden mists.
Midsummer meadows cheers our hearts.
Bees reeling in floppy poppies,
Quaint corn cockles and radiant daisies jostle with lazy scabious
Lofty butterflies surf the breeze filled with meadowsweet mist.
Wishing seeds glimmer in honeyed rays,
Teazels sentinels of the fields, guard the wildflower maze.
Haystacks rest on dusty fields waiting for midsummer to heal.
Treading on wispy grasses;
Soft silk bed of fresh miniature flora.
Soaring high –
Singing lingers like lover’s whispers
Before vanishing through dreamy vapours.
Cow parsley’s filigree fountains
Shower the wake of Ox Eye daisies.
Hazy white petals slightly dazed,
Enjoy sherbet scented kissing wind.
Morning’s dampness on my hands.
I find a torn seam in elemental’s veil;
Ask to enter the precious trail.
Nose wrinkling as plumes of bluebells waft;
Lost in a deep purple blue lake,
Their wizened branches seeking light,
Orange tip butterflies flee with all their might!
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.
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!
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.