Looking Around My Room

My room is full of colour – the pictures, the ornaments, my collection of clowns, the clutter on the table…





My toy teddy bear sits on a chair nearby, staring at me fixedly with a purposeful expression. The small, purple-clad, porcelain clown’s little hands are poised mid-gesticulation.




I glimpse through the screen door a slice of garden, where the breeze is creating a wave of sighs and rustles among the leaves.

Holiday

Two days away from home

I'm yawning at 8pm.

Responsibilities

roll off my shoulders,

my spine un-stiffens.

I Believe

I believe in Gaia,

our loving Mother —

the river her blood,

the trees her hair.

I fear she is dying.

She has a fever.

Can we save her with fear,

heal with despair?

No, and not with hope.

What we need is action,

urgent action — More! Faster! —
and fervent prayer.

Getting Through Winter

It's a help

that I have my cat —

the snuggler,

the smoocher —

to curl on the couch with me

as nights get colder.  

He's old too,

aged along with me.

Survivors,

just we two 

are all the family now

and we cling for warmth.

Linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #261, where you can find lots of good poems.

Fine Rain

rain is falling

silently

fine flecks of light

From the Top Step — Autumn Dusk

I love this time of evening, when the hills opposite turn navy-blue and featureless, sharp-edged against the whitening sky. 

The feathery tree over the road dances in the light breeze. The more solid one in my yard is hardly moving; I have to look hard to see even a tiny flutter.

Dearly Neglected

My cat comes in,

miaows in that urgent voice,

then settles by my feet

to wait patiently

until I finish this bit of typing.

I look at my watch and say,

‘Oh, quite right,

you’re overdue for lunch!’

I reach down to pat.

He stretches a paw

and pats me back.

We go together to the kitchen.

He does not reproach me.

What a good cat!

February Evening

February evening —

I walk alone

under storm clouds.

On the Highway

Three big silver trucks 

pass in parade:

armoured warriors, 

their windscreen visors 

glinting through the rain.