poetry, word doodles and other writing stuff
The deafening storm rips my scarf and smacks it’s tousles into my face. A force so strong red streaks appear across my numb cheeks. We are stuck for now, as the snow storm rolls howling down the mountainside. We are sheltered behind a slap of rock and wrapped in all the layers of our winter gear.
Hot sweet tea brings warmth.
And chocolate delivers joy,
thus restored, we wait.
I rise from the ashes like a drunk phoenix:
Unsteady feet and a chest full of fire.
Ash falls from feathered appendages.
I blink at this newborn world in wonder.
Sea haar burnt off by cleansing sun.
The cold fog lifts from my thoughts.
A path meanders lazily along the clifftop,
Carrying me unsteadily into a new life.
Love, the ever-burning power,
Pulsates against my breastbone.
Force of life stokes the fire
I shake off the ash and stagger forward.
Go the extra mile, burn the candle on both ends.
Rise above the parapet, beyond your station.
On the up and up, over your head.
Weather the storm, or wither in it.
Talk of the town, tall story.
Hard as nails, until all that nonsense breaks you.
Genuflecting reverence
Righteous humility
Oakum and pine tar
Waves crashing
The pilgrimage begins
Hear my prayer oh Goddess of the sea
Raven wings wrap
a cloak of night and tenderness.
Goddess of war and death,
the tales are skewed,
as all tales of women strong.
I have seen you hovering,
yet heard you only once:
when you were disappointed
about a boy not worth the trouble.
‘No daughter of mine
shall bend herself so for a man!’
A crow flew by smacking my face
with a wing of night and tenderness.
Message received.
A presence of barely noticeable strands
Holding me in place
When the storm rages
When the nights grow too dark
When grief claws at my soul
When pain tears me apart
Their presence a beacon of light
Finally I walk the double-helix
Into the darkest shadowed past
Into the garden of blood and bone
Not all who have passed
Were diamonds who shone
And I have faced these scars
Down in the darkness alone
I am of your blood and you are in my bones
And I won’t carry your night into the known
Like a swaying lantern growing large
Is ancestral guidance in the dark
fantastic fox with feline grace
jumps jauntily into the maze
of waxing waving wheat stalks
to catch a carry-out for cubs
who—hopeful—hide in thicket shrubs
droll determined noses poke
pensively past pastel leaves
bulging bellies betray the thieves
of Mister Buchanan’s hen house
Gossamer announces Autumn,
with dew dropped crystal bells.
Ribbons of transparent lace
Wafting over fresh ploughed fields.
Red rosehips reawaken—
Vestiges of summer past.
Snuffling hedgehogs walking past.
Red-capped mushrooms reawaken.
Golden leaves dance over fields,
Some are stuck in spiders’ lace.
Beech-nuts: spiky furry bells,
And everywhere it smells of autumn.
Oak Moon introduces Winter.
Hooded crows like feathered monks,
Shiver in the wet cold storm.
Scaly tree bark shimmers silver.
Sleeping dragons, ancient creatures.
Sleet pelts winter coats.
Wolf Moon conjures magic coats.
Midwinter hunt o’ fabled creatures.
Only iron be your ward, never use the silver.
Run! Run through the brazen storm!
Hoods won’t protect the trembling monks!
Blood moon calls the King of Winter.
Gentle footprints, lucent flowers.
Snowdrops. Crocus follow on.
Spring jumps across a gurgling burn.
She dances in the warming sun.
Rainbows burst from breaking clouds.
Sap rushes into swelling trunks.
Fox cubs ring around the trunks.
The oak protects them from the clouds.
Yet suddenly there breaks the sun.
A fawn drinks from the gurgling burn.
And tiny paws are hanging on,
Lest furry red kits land in flowers.
Suddenly burst forth the heat.
Summer strides with confidence.
Colour explosion.
I took a bath in chilled champagne
Bubbles pop across heated skin
I emerge from a hole hewn into ice
Granddad’s job earlier that day
The milky layer with sharp edges
Thicker than my hand is wide
Promises joy and death
I pull myself up the wrought iron steps
Bare feet rush in wet pitter-patter
Across icy ground to reach my soft robe
The sound of heat radiates from fluffy fibres
Scent of pine resin caresses me
As we walk chattering back to the house
And the fiery embrace of the sauna
A wee beastie, fluffy coat without buttons,
satellite dish ears orienting.
Micro kangaroo hops
across moss covered brick.
One, one, two. One, one, two.
The wee beastie watches
black button eyes anticipatory.
Feathered waiter has opened the buffet.
His yellow coat and blue bib
draw our attention.
One, one, two. One, one, two.
Sunflower seeds.
The menu is a bit simple.
Tablecloth covered in debris
from the last rain.
A random leaf dances past
–just because.
One, one, two. One, one, two.
One seed thrown aground and another,
two seeds down the beak.
A feather sticks.
Wet leaves cling to French doors.
Wee beastie happily munches.
tiny fingers hold treasure.
‘That’s how it’s done.’
The airborne pal tells us.
One, one, two. One, one, two.
Seriously, Cindy. You pine
for a man who doesn’t recognise you
when you wear a different dress!?
Shallow much, your beau?
His horse is smarter!
Taking the apple from a trusted hand
when you meet in the snow-covered woods.
You can do better Cindy!
Hear me out.
I know your sisters are pests.
And stepmother gives all of us a bad rep,
but you really don’t have to go for the guy!
The one who needs a glass slipper to know you!
The three Hazel nuts!
You could wish for start-up funding,
or a scholarship,
or a train ticket
out of town to somewhere far away.
Excuse my anachronisms.
And make your own family
with people who ken
even when you walk in the dark.
Poetry by Nathalie 