a little light poetry

Last Thursday was National Poetry Day in the UK, so I am feeling very guilty that I haven’t got around to posting a poem to mark the occasion.

wispy cirrus clouds and vapour trail
It wasn’t simply that my head has been too full of wispy clouds to focus. Even on Saturday, a day when I usually post, I was busy, not just with the usual domestic nonsenses, but also preparing to present the guest poets at an evening of readings at the local bookshop and community centre.
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after michaelmas

michaelmas daisies
The Michaelmas daisies have been in flower for weeks, but that’s a poor excuse for having completely forgotten that it was Michaelmas – the Feast of St Michael and all Angels – on September 29th.
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memory of sunshine

J M Barrie is quoted as saying:

God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.

I wonder if perhaps He gave us photography and the internet so those of us with poor memories could not just have their own sunflowers and blue skies on dull autumnal days, but so we could also share them with others.(And share them long after the apparently absent sun set, too.)

sunflowers against cloudy blue sky

caged

Blue-toned photo of ginger cat looking through iron railings

Today I’m posting another old poem, this time prompted by a cat – triste y azul** – who seemed to think he was in a cage:

Workspace

How can I write,
caged in by walls,
smothered by cushions
and draped curtains?
Even my balcony is barred
like a prison cell.
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you don’t know what you’ve got…

When I moved to Spain in the late Eighties, I still thought of the UK as my home. Having now, at least temporarily, ceased to have a permanent base in Spain, I seem to be in the opposite position. I don’t think I’ve ever really suffered with home-sickness, but there is always a hint of greener grass elsewhere. (Or, more realistically, greener grass in the UK and bluer skies in Spain, I suppose.)

olive grey leaves against a grey sky

I don’t know if the leaves in the picture are actually olive leaves – there were certainly no olives visible on the trees – but even set against the grey English sky they reminded me of the olivar I used to walk through to get to the pueblo and I had to stop to take a photo.
Continue reading “you don’t know what you’ve got…”