North wolf-door belongs
To the Devil in songs;
The dark iron-tree
Born of dead-sky-sea
Fell through fire, slate
Thick boar-skull plate
And dragon-crest helm
Into the Albion magic realm.
North wolf-door belongs
To the Devil in songs;
The dark iron-tree
Born of dead-sky-sea
Fell through fire, slate
Thick boar-skull plate
And dragon-crest helm
Into the Albion magic realm.
Some playful god
Has spilled warm cider
Across the sky;
Giving orange edges to
Grey flamenco-skirt clouds.
Phantoms of the
Dance of night –
Left exhausted, happy below –
Appreciate the mischief.
Alone in a boisterous crowd;
A mob expecting spectacle:
Thunder, fury, blood,
Maybe more ….
Back on the rain roads,
Stung by defeat –
Oh, how it hurts,
Life’s not fair.
Stuck on the off-ramp,
Little left in the tank,
Stuck in the grey masses
Without direction.
“See the statue here …?”
The step-on guide drones;
Way she mouths it,
It’s not a question
“One statue, three lies here,”
She isn’t speaking
So much as reading a script.
Wharf-pool water –
Century’s stagnant mirror –
Surface made of shattered
Butcher’s knife blades and
Shards of guillotine in a
Brick-sided drawer:
All-day long tiny percussive fists of
Persistent rain have pummelled, nagged,
Raised the best of marvellous memories:
Those that I thought I didn’t need,
What somebody said –
And, oh how we laughed –
Was the turning point’
The point of no-return,
Looked only like so much
Dust on the highway;
Let’s raise a glass,
Maybe more,
To the double-intensity,
Up on the stands,
Handlebar gladiators;
To the front-rows,
No-space tiptoe dancers.
The way it goes
And away she goes
On a bright-eyed,
Finely shod horse
Past the station bridge,
Along the path to the past;
Adventures in the life of an English allotment
Nature + Health
Award-winning gardening and self-sufficiency blog.
Welcome to my world: digging, harvesting and other stuff
for your family
The evolution of an old farmhouse, an American woman, an Englishman and their dogs.
Sharing moments of life + motherhood to encourage fellow mommas
If you could go anywhere you wanted, where would you be headed right now?
surfing my tsunami
blowing through the cobwebs of my mind
Just another WordPress.com weblog
Writing the Wrong, Right, and Ridiculous
Life after the Care Farm
The most Dangerous plant to sleep under is the water lilly
Local History for Great Wyrley and Surrounding Areas
Tales from the mouth of a wolf
Posts about old Hollywood, current concerns
Gunn4
Just another WordPress.com site