The schoolchildren seem happy
chattering as they skip and walk by the front window
a raft of ducks navigating
a concrete river littered with outgrown hedges
their parents seldom looking over their shoulders
- early lessons in personal safety.
Thanks for taking the time to read a further adventure in imagist poetry. I’m finding the practice and method quite liberating.
The platform is wet from last nights rain
but this morning
the sun has wove threads of gold
sewing itself to the soft cloud
a handful of people smile at tiny escaping strands of light
the look of hope on their faces
scores of others turn away looking down
cheekbones rigid with anguish
a reminder of the darkness in their life
and I’m people watching
wondering what type of person
will sit next to me on today’s journey.
Thanks for taking the time to read this poem. It’s my first piece of 2022, I’ve been mega busy.
Holding hands in fresh gloves we walk the Winter woods; it’s quiet on Boxing Day morning; probably too many bad heads sleeping it off.
The essence of Chris is still hanging in the air, from the tall pine sentries lining our route, watching us in the scarves wrapped around our faces; the same scarves muffling our voices, and the words we get wrong, singing the Christmas songs everyone knows.
We ask each other to name their favourite part of Christmas so far; I say spending time with you; I know I say the same thing every year but it’s the truth; and you say the same.
I’m lost in your hazelnut eyes when snow begins to fall; I wonder what it would be like to be frozen in time; right here, right now, in this very moment; but when the soft snowflake hits my cheek; I wake up from my festive fog, and we walk on – destination unknown.
Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Festive Good Fortune,
It’s a grim, murky grey out in the world; as the waving flames from the birchwood fire keeps us warm indoors – our cheeks rosy, rosier than Santa’s hat; Bing’s on the radio, his voice velvet and relaxing; amid the rustling Holly and ivy wrapping paper, and tearing kraft-tape; the Christmas lights could send me to sleep, twinkling slowly, mesmerising; but there’s prep to do; a ginger cake to bake, and toffee sauce to create, – both from scratch; the temptation of a powenap is stronger still; the Nordic Sherpa blanket’s just been draped over me; and I’m toastier than a marshmallow;
– well 5 minutes of snoozing won’t hurt, I’ll just have a couple more quality street first.
I hope you enjoyed this poem and my Haiku Advent Calender. I’ll be releasing another poem on Christmas Eve along with a final haiku.
I’d just like to say a huge Merry Christmas and a Feliz Navidad.
The snow fell softly, silently, blanketing the town before daybreak; it was deep enough to sledge in – and lose a boot; out the window, a march had already begun, street kids trailing sledges and inner tubes from old tractor tyres, towards the hills of the golf course and their hills; the walk took us past the bare hedgerows, showing the families already there; a dad and daughter skimming down on a black binliner, and some of the older lads on an old car bonnet spinning every which way.
At the entrance, scrambling over stile, I was ready to tackle the hill, dodging bodies to reach the top and the quick queue, quicker than I’d ever seen; it was tradition to share the first trip down with Ni; he handled the steering, as we sped in a bullet-straight line, all the way to the bottom, so we went again and again and again – together and apart, until my final solo descent, which was headfirst, full of fear and peer pressure; I almost made it until I ate a wedge of snow, hurting my arm; one of the car bonnet boys had to pull me out of the way, as the dad and daughter sped past my feet, binliner shredded to pieces, their fun finished as well; my brother left to trail the sledge as we laughed all the way home; full of childhood adrenaline, arctic air and last night’s snow.
The Christmas episode of the Eat The Storms Poetry Podcast has been released. On it, you’ll hear me (!!!) reading four of my poems with a wintry and festive feel. I am so grateful that Damien (the host with the most!) invited me back to read. I love Christmas and the last time I appeared on the podcast was my podcasting debut, my reading live debut and was so much fun.
Some of the poems I’ve read you’ll find on Paul Writes Poems already; the others will be released between now and Christmas along with my daily Haiku Advent Calendar so keep your eyes peeled.
The last time I had the opportunity to appear on Eat The Storms, the other readers were amazing. The same is said for my fellow poets appearing on the Christmas episode, but, this time Damien has ramped things up for the festivities so it’s bursting at the seams like a vintage stocking.
I have released a poem this month already, you can find the piece of nostalgia by clicking, ‘At Christmas‘.
It was a massive honour and privilege to take part, especially with the calibre of the other poets reading. I may have been was awestruck! (I must apologise for the sore throat though.)
Last night the sky was black velvet, flecked with scattered diamonds, and the snowdrop moon that shone over frozen earth; the winter wind was biting, but we were warm, with hot chocolates, big coats and knitted headbands; the world felt almost monochrome at minus two, until the robin landed on the gatepost, ruby chest pushed out, flames dancing in its eyes, a Firebird.
Thanks for taking the time to read my poem. I hope you’re all well and enjoying December.