Poetry Corner

~The Creek~

The creek ripples under a melancholy sun,
Boughs shift their forms
to shake loose the morning’s dust
and intertwine the feathers of joyful reeds.
Deep in the creek in darkened shade
its tarpaulin a reflective shadow;
the spirits of the water reside
to brighten the hues of green,
under nature’s loving gaze.

STINK BUG
(Winner of the ‘On the Bus’ competition – University of Kent 2012)

You can touch it; pin pricks that crawl among the stems. Fragile, bruised like a peach with puffy eyes. You hold it, transport it, box it.

Like the eclipse of a vein it begins its ascent. Closer it approaches, ever moving, ever testing the air. Takes flight-

Change places; you and it can reverse. Channel a whisper through your limbs and lose yourself, split like the contours of a leaf.

A Dedication

The cottage has opened its doors to me,

of dreams long foretold,

of poppies and tiger lilies, violets three,

and memories dear to hold

*

The path is worn through tender days,

the seeds blossomed; overgrown,

through woods and bluebells I long to stay,

o’er moss fair winds have blown

*

She halts my quiet sighs,

bent down with grains of sorrow,

and beckons me forth on green fields lie,

Where none but Death can follow

*

Storms rage on in faraway lands

but close stillness and quiet roam

It comforts the voices of my consumed heart;

and tenderly guides me Home.

Copyright © by Kate W J White
(All Rights Reserved)