A Darragh Winter

 

A Darragh Winter


When walking these woods in Winter

Amidst the uprooted ancients

And torn limbs of Darragh,

Amidst your bodies, a warzone,

Your white bark, 

Reminiscent of snow,

In the absence of a seasonal hoar frost,

Refracts the setting sun

Bright unto mine eyes,

Such that your leafless, 

Lifeless bare branches,

Shout out for peace against those

Death-shrouded in their soft green blankets

Of moss and ivy on the woodland floor,

Appearing to me like standard-bearers

On the front-line of change;

White flags standing tall

Against a relentless wind.


A Wensley

3.01.2025





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

'Me' (or 'Poetry from a prompt-sheet', Jawbone 'Write to Speak' Workshop 22/06/25)

Image
This poem was created during a Jawbone 'Write to speak' workshop in Bridport on the 22nd June 2025. It came about when we were asked to complete a prompt sheet 'Being honest with you' - filling in all our honest thoughts against the prompt words listed, as per the list below. Rather than one word answers to each or whole sentences independent of each other, mine naturally flowed as a piece of poetry in its own right - I read it out with emotion, volume in the parts which resonated with the spirit of the piece and clearly in the way I'd punctuated it for dramatic effect. It goes like this: I AM...                  Me . I AM NOT ...            You . I CAN...                  speak but I CANNOT...            always be heard. I WILL...                frustrate you but I WON'T .....
Read more

A writers workshop in the golden hour, in Glastonbury

Image
A writers workshop in the golden hour, in Glastonbury I sit and write As the Abbey House glows,  Gilded by the evening sun. At first we sat beneath an ornate gold ceiling In a room graced by nobles past, We sat on once soft furnishings,  On fabrics frayed, upholstery sagging,  Simply by the act of years of sitting. Pausing, then, was a luxury, reserved only for the rich,  So I sit and ponder my place...         I am here,         Graced by golden light and your presence,         Deserving of time and space, simply to be. I walked in mindful abundance just now, Through pearls of light, dancing, Like sensory swathes of silk, soft light soothing, The sun setting along the arc of each grass-seed, igniting me, As nature reclaimed the ruins from me. I walked the line between gold past, gold present, and gold future, The pathway seemingly clearer now, As I realised -          I am here, ...
Read more

A Street-Cat Named Mower

Image
  A Street-Cat Named Mower  (for pronunciation think Miaou-er) You were our Street Cat, Our Survival Instinct Cat, Our Scaredy Cat, at first Who ran in fits and bursts. Then you came in, for the kill, Laid mice at our patio-door sill Birds and dragonflies all made jam! Look how clever I am, I am! As no owner could be found, You persisted and gained ground Into our lean to, and our hearts. This is where our story starts. Litter trained? Definitely not! But no shit, when we got you we got a lot, Around the tray and underfoot! Trainers, slippers, welly boots. You'd always find a sunny spot In the garden, or hutch a-top With our bunnies you stretched out lean, To sleep, perchance to dream, no screams! It was this laid-back sun-a-stretchin' That got you a Liv Torc mention In a film about lockdowns,  Haiku and a photo-match = 'Haiflu*' fame found! Then, when we decided to up and move sticks, You sat on our boxes and got in the mix, Ok Ok Mower of course you can come! And yes,...
Read more