January 19, 2013 at 12:52 pm (history, literature, Poems, poetry, Shropshire, sociology, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Marking our winters together,

first up in the morning checks the embers,

so any vital signs might be rekindled.


Failing that, I journey out to fetch the coal,

perhaps a well seasoned cherry log, our treat,

odour – vermillion. Slipper shod round to the shed,

contemplating cold patterned leavings in the snow.


I consider the teeth clenched path; you warm in tangled bed,

then, lamenting the lazy left last time bucket,

slide down to empty tinker crunch ash,

playing the ice orchestra and wishing above all for wellies.


Darling, the clinker hill reaches the sky,

in far off spring we will push it down

to the ditch below the snow line,

between where we live and the cows.


Swinging up to the house to scrunch last week’s news,

I lay morning sticks crackling from an orange string bag,

then sparingly, the coal, but leave room for breath.

Striking a match I turn on the life support, a tender touch paper,

sharing the conviction that our winter child will thrive.


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September 23, 2012 at 4:49 pm (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

On this dozing cosy cricket listening afternoon
first fire comforts soft summer bones
hot steaming apple licks our fingers
and spicy pie conversation draws close
to contemplate hibernation.

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Beyond the Valley

September 21, 2012 at 9:04 am (Poems) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The night fire blazes
casting shadows across the hills
acrid smoke scorching the throats of trees

They hold their ground
wrapping order in roots regrouping
on ancient acclivities and in wiser minds.

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