Hawthorn morning



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!

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Tallow rays


The misty morn peels,

Revealing sentinels of wintery fields.

Tallow rays, like a sweet mead glaze

Healing: a warming haze.

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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.

 

January’s Frosty Jewels


January’s frosty jewels glisten on a

Salted caramel lawn.


​Chinking crystals wink at precious paws tingling;

Fairy ice dusted catkins jingle as they mingle.

Hooray! Warming rays ablaze.


My apologies for not posting for a while. As winter has truly set in, there seem to be so many jobs to get done that  get in the way of creativity. I photographed plants in my garden for this post and one of my dogs of course. They are always wanting to be involved in whatever I am doing. Keep cosy if you have cold weather! 

Challenging the poet with Prose


Is writing my poetry blog a deliberate distraction from the challenge to write a novel in a month?

Or…

Is the act of writing and rambling a way of getting the creative juices going?

I have had the main characters in my novel swirling about in my brain for a couple of years, may be longer. When I’m walking with the dogs, watching them and noticing the changing cloud formations or ripples on water, I can zone in on the action of the novel and what the characters are feeling and thinking. When I stop and feel close up to nature, my world reverts to poetry.

I find at first light I greet the day with my cup of coffee and pen poised to write about 1800-2000 words. My husband has gone out to work, the dogs are stretched out on the sofa. I love the quietitude. If it is calm and silent, my felt tip fibre pen takes off. I know this novel won’t be perfect because if I was using the language of poetry, it would probably take me the rest of my years to finish the first draft. I’m just letting the innocence of the novel flow and see where it ends.

For the Nanowrimo website I created a quick cover design and thought of a title: this may change.

I will always be a nature poet and photographer who writes the occasional  novel. Even the genre is a  tricky one. I don’t want to restrict myself.

Writing is freedom.


Synopsis to follow. Thank you for reading my friends.

Frosty moments


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Frost temporarily preserves
The landscape in fine sugar dust:
A lustful feast.

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Crusted tufts of wind whipped grasses
And rusted busts of proud seedpods,

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Languish in a spangled frozen sea.
On rough textured tracks, puddles
Like mystical misted mirrors,
Creak and crack as sunshine
Seeps through apricot pillows
And weeping trees.

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The dogs and I thoroughly enjoyed our frosty world of spangled surprises, apricot skies and mystical mirrors which creaked as we walked through our local countryside in rural Bedfordshire. Captured in every breath and every step this temporarily preserved moment was truly magical. Enjoy.

Frosty fruity Friday


Frosty Friday
It has been a beautiful frosty day. This morning the tangled fruit bushes and hedgerows looked delicious with their tempting iced crusted leaves and frosted berries. I knew this uniquely magical moment would change so quickly, as the sun melted the frost into droplets tinkling as they rolled from one leaf to another; so I captured the essences holding my breath, not wanting to disturb the moment. My dogs, being used to many a heavy frost when we were living in Edinburgh, rolled about and played, their paws skating on iced puddles.