Archive for January, 2016


Two haiku poems written after a long run on the moors last week. One reflects the point my leg disappeared down a bog and the other the long climb from Ponden Reservoir back up to Alcomden Stones.

 

earth sucks me in

body goes back to nature

grey sky turns blue

 

tarmac turns to gravel

turns to grass, turns to mud

i live amongst reeds

 


the old, run down mill

stares at its reflection

in the deep darkness

of the still, silent river

as ghosts of men,

women and children

drift by on currents

stealing them away

to new places to haunt

 


Mangata, Swedish for ‘the road-like reflection of the moon in the water’

 Reflections soaked in water

Reveal the dirtiness of truth

And lies that cleanse


Iktsuarpok (Inuit) A person who goes outside often to see if anyone is coming. From The Meaning of Tingo.

i’m waiting for someone

i don’t know who

the gas man, the post man

maybe even you

but no-one comes

however many times

i venture outside

in the cold

in the rain

no-one ever shows

but the anticipation

that one day someone will

gets stronger and stronger

day after day after day


when i am inside

you are my comfort

my warmth, my softness

changing shape as i move

moulding yourself to my every mood

 

but when i go outside

you come with me in my mind

the thought of you keeps me safe

how you turn cold into warmth

hardness into soft, sad to happy

 

you encompass all my joy

you soak up all my emotions

you bring my dreams to life

you are my best friend

you are my mobile pillow

 


it is cold and dark

street lights struggle

to penetrate thick mist

suspended in animation

i am warm

a passionate burning fire

flowing through

a cave of ice

one foot follows the other

pulsating red hot rods

of energy transformed into power

through sinew and muscle

creating a sense

of togetherness

a feeling of being at one

with soul and nature

mind and body

in effortless motion

as i appreciate

the simply act

of being able to run

free

 


the party was in full swing

adults talking to adults

under the influence of alcohol

i am a token attraction at the start

a talking point to stare at for five minutes

now i am forgotten, unimportant

left to wander in a room

full of slobbering giants

consuming vast amounts of food and drink

outside i can breather fresh air

clear of the smell of stale tobacco

i wander to the woods my parents warned me about

don’t go there, the bogey man lives there

down one grassy slope

up the other side through so many trees

and back down the other side

ending up at the side of the road

transfixed by an endless stream of

man made mechanical tin boxes

flash by whoosh, whoosh, whoosh

the wind against my bare legs

the only reminder that i am alive

one car stops and strangers get out

eyeing me up and down

talking to each other in hushed tones

then my dad gets out, smiling, eyes twinkling

they had noticed me missing

they had been worried about me

they had come looking for me

i do matter to them after all

 

Sunday Poem – Gerry Cambridge

Posted: January 17, 2016 in Uncategorized

Source: Sunday Poem – Gerry Cambridge

Sunday Poet – Pascale Petit

Posted: January 17, 2016 in Uncategorized

Source: Sunday Poet – Pascale Petit

Sunday Poem – Rose Cook

Posted: January 17, 2016 in Uncategorized

Source: Sunday Poem – Rose Cook