This weekend sees the last full moon of the year and, once more, the papers are full of articles about supermoons.
I was wondering why no-one ever bothered about such things when I was a child, and then I happened upon this page on the time and date website, which says the term wasn’t coined until 1979, when astronomer Richard Nolle first used it.
Continue reading “what’s in a name?”
Autumn is full of butterflies. Or so it seems to me.
Sometimes, as in the picture at the top of the post, it is only the visual echo of a butterfly. Sometimes, as in this fragment, it’s a memory of summer:
From among the fallen leaves, the wind
lifts a broken butterfly wing
and gives it flight.
Continue reading “an echo of butterflies”
breathing grey mist through city streets;
he stamps in puddles
then laughs with sudden sunshine.
Continue reading “more autumn”
outside my window
the neighbour’s yellow Mini
Sadly, that’s not the way it looks out there at the moment; instead, it’s decidedly grey.
Still, the forecast shows surprisingly little rain for in the foreseeable future and it looks as if we may get a brief sunny spell this afternoon. Even if we don’t, the parked cars are nice and bright.
If I spent as long writing new poems as I do looking back through old ones to find something to post on the blog, I’d probably end up with a lot more to choose from.
That said, today’s was a relatively easy choice: despite the rich, bright colours, autumn is a melancholy season, so a poem about absence seems appropriate.
Continue reading “autumnal”
What with Hurricane Ophelia last weekend and Storm Brian this weekend, the UK has taken a bit of a battering recently and the local park is ankle deep in mud and sodden leaves.
Clearly, though, the weather has produced the right conditions for growth for some organisms. One particular fallen tree was host to all sorts of alien growths, and looked very impressive indeed decked out in its finery of tiny beads and flounces, frills, ridges and ripples in all the autumnal shades from bright orangey russet to a deep aubergine that made me think of grapes or mulled wine.
Continue reading “jellyfish and jungle blooms”
When in doubt about what to post, it’s always easy to fall back on flower photography and love poetry.
And as I have a set of photos of love-in-a-mist at different stages of flowering, it seems appropriate to find some poems of the different stages of love.
It’s there in the air between them.
As hands sketch fragmented curves,
fingertips graze its surface.
They worry it with words,
map points along the borders.
Their tongues taste the edges
of possibility until they find its shape
in the space where their lips meet.
Continue reading “when in doubt”