Micropoetry – Piebald Rug & Flood
Burgundy-earth patches on cream, soft as calla lily.
Poetry – Pebbles
Tricoloured pebbles, the sand stepping-stones of a shuffling huddle, or shifting land – a clinking crowd at ground.
Poetry – To Ahenny
To Ahenny where slate spills from the land like prehistoric teeth. I bite back, snap with my new camera, angled for scenic views, fail to capture that dead outreach,
The Poetry of Wildflowers
Dead Nettle, the words have a rattle. Death should not belong to soft lilac, or even the green, wing-like leaves that dress you, coquettish weed.
New Year, New Poems
I’ve been working on some poetry, lately. I know this isn’t a startling revelation, but I’m quite pleased with how these particular poems are shaping up. One was inspired by the memory of my first scan in pregnancy. I was struck by the sonographer’s words ‘everything you see on the screen is bone . .…
Poetry – I Take down the Tree
Tree I take down the tree, unwreathe its arms of tinsel and bauble. Now it is pure and green and dark, a figure without cover.
Walks by Water – Two Poems
The Shore A shot of sea spills its gut, deep music.
Icicles, a Winter Poem by K. S. Moore
Icicles don’t bend, they stand up straight and spear. Through them, I see a white expanse, the field has stolen snow . . .
‘Home Waves’ for National Poetry Day
Home Waves To lie on the line between sand and sea will not be enough will not express my homesick, long-hearted fondness for here.