Category Archives: Apples

lady of Avalon

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i dream i’m drowning

it’s an old one

but it no longer owns me

now i’ve come home to avalon

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thoughts of rain awake me

the lady comes again for me

from across the levels blurred in

a banging of silver bangles

a breathing womb of grass and apples

a trembling of limbs still stuck in the suck

of muck-moist land that’s been drained for ages

until it rains; and it rains

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she is ages older than me, yet young

she speaks an older tongue, voice

fizzy with dialects of scrumpy cider and musky crusts of ancient cheddar

echoes dance from dank chalk caves

wassail wassail wassail

and so it was

and so it is

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i dream her lovely face

etched upon a sorrow of cloud

heavy as half a pound of moonlight

light as a fragrance of lemoncakes

i dream her silken garments

and steely armaments

reflected in the ancient lakes of this summer land

do you see me, she rasps

swirling me in underwater loves

she drags me to her breast where i rest

kisses the stone of my bones

unheeding of the summons of Merlin

defiantly ungifting trinkets to the kings

the legend of the lady

awaits a feminist twist

shhhh, she whispers, coming

and i dream myself asleep

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not a haiku

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ps

I moved the the isle of ancient avalon last year. Do you know where that is? Quite simply, Somerset in the West Country of the UK, near Glastonbury. I felt a pull to come here and so here am i. Still dreaming…

https://www.napowrimo.net

NaPoWriMo day 25

prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!

insistent joy — pouring

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pale-green tea in a delicate cup

unceremonious —

koi in a pond swimming up

miniscule coal glowing in foaming

waterfall in my infinite chest

autumnal tumble spring expressed

palms pressed, lips open

to happiness —

to all things beckoning

recognising every small thing as tasting

fortuitous —

that stuff of thankfulness 

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oh, that soft embrace from — you know who

you are — rhymes of mint thyme coriander sage i

planted in a riot of wild flowers and trees i

will never see the shade of

oh, and that kiss — you know who

you are — amber and a thousand stars

stammer

in a pond swimming in

your mouth making the sound of

my name secure

murmur 

oh, and that caress — you know who

you are — a sacrament of butterflies, thunder

rising on a summer breeze — a whole summer

lain in front of us to pray in 

cascades made of holy gifts sipped to my infinite limbs

in the pond swimming around 

winter hours shining in burnt orange glints

oh, and that gaze — you know who

you are — tiny tremors that become exquisite

shivers on a fresh blanched page

oh, and that hand in mine — you know who

you are —

oh,

you are

in

bubble-wrap pops

copper-blue eggs

nut-brown arms

cornflower silks

twitterings of little tits

snatches of salt-sharp winds

silver pepper-pot twists

dapples of yellow apples

white-linen billows

black-chocolate pebbles

thick-cream envelopes 

effervescent-cobalt soaps

ecetera eceteras

sent to my infinite heart

insistent persistent gift

oh, joy — you know who

you are

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not a haiku

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NaPoWriMo day 13.-

….in honour of the potential luckiness of the number 13, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like the example poem here, joyfully states that “Everything is Going to Be Amazing.” Sometimes, good fortune can seem impossibly distant, but even if you can’t drum up the enthusiasm to write yourself a riotous pep-talk, perhaps you can muse on the possibility of good things coming down the track. As they say, “the sun will come up tomorrow,” and if nothing else, this world offers us the persistent possibility of surprise.

https://www.napowrimo.net

distance

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‘you’ve spoiled the way the tree hangs’, he muttered in passing, the man i’d watched from across the orchard with admiration, imagining some future passion. His torso glowed in the low summer sun. Sweat over taunt muscles, golden fuzz glued, caught in highlights, his face averted, his shorts short and tight.

When he approached me, i’d gasped at the intense scent rising from his body, that eclipsed the perfume of the apples dangling from the branches and fermenting in the grass. I’d felt quite dizzy from it, perched as i was, dangerously high on my ladder.

‘is that a fact?’ i’d offered to his back.

A beautiful, rippling study of manly motion and determination, he attacked the tree next to me with his secateurs. ‘yep’ he said, under his breath, ‘get some perspective’.

i climbed down from the ladder, took a few steps away and surveyed my own tree, glistening with rosy fruit, littered with severed branches and foliage, listing slightly.

He’d made no bones of it. I laughed. He was probably right.

In this tender light, this splendid afternoon spoiled, i removed my ladder to a further tree and began again.

i left my thoughts hanging

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not a haiku

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The prompt is based on Robert Hass’s remarkable prose poem, “A Story About the Body.” The idea is to write your own prose poem that, whatever title you choose to give it, is a story about the body. The poem should contain an encounter between two people, some spoken language, and at least one crisp visual image.

going extinct

Haiku

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Grotesque hawkers call

Picturesque veg, fruit, fish, meat

Roses, violets, sweets

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n.b

The raucous noise of market callers used to fill the streets of London and other large towns in England. Each one distinct; gratingly musical calls to buy the fare on offer. Sadly, it’s all going silent as other ways of marketing vie for our attention.

https://www.google.ch/search?q=who+will+buy+oliver+youtube&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&hl=en-gb&client=safari#sbfbu=1&pi=who%20will%20buy%20oliver%20youtube