In the arc of the bay

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I tried to paint it
pale particularity
hues colouring faith

I did try to paint it but have
failed to do justice to the pale
particularity of this
panorama’s hue

sunlit mist disperses – yet the
colours remain only just brown
or blue or green – restful upon
the eye and for the

wondering soul too – arrow head
of wild geese honk in-flight above
me while swallows dart low above
protein-laden

mud-flats and the curlews’ cry and
sitting on millennia-old
rock by and by Wisdom’s care and
love attracts my soul’s

eye – pale hues deepen, colouring
rich and bright and in the silence
save for light breeze and birdsong
cheer – looking on Nature’s

beautiful architecture in
the arc of the bay, Wisdom shows
me love’s hope and meditation’s
delight and so faith

is here

Simon Marsh

Stirrings

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New shoots seeds with needs
Hedgerows home to the broody hen
Stirrings in the loins of young men

The Season of the Hormonal Male

Shorter skirts and softer dresses
Encouraging thoughts of sweet caresses

Female bodies released from winter cocoon
Will be turning heads very soon

Resolutions now easier to keep
Thoughts of loves one is hoping to reap

The season has sprung, there is no going back
Desire is there, it’s the route one might lack

Hedgerows bristling with new life at a pace
Shoots, buds and eggs all caught up in the race

Matches, hatches, it’s a time for them all
Memories made you will forever recall

A prelude to summer, don’t let it waste
Time will soon pass, go to it in haste

With someone to love, you will feel on a throne
Much better than spending time all alone

If all else fails don’t give up on the spree
Lower your sights and spend time with me.

Trevor Coleman

I polish my boots

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A summer day dawns
Mist lifts from the mountain top
I polish my boots

Missing Parts of Speech

Poetry and prose without adverbs and adjectives is like a summer without sun and strawberries. Their lack creates a drought for our ears and ideas which those missing parts of speech can help to take wing and fly, lifting our minds above chatter and chaff, nurturing insights into mundanity. The discipline of the sadhu on a ledge suits such a being but the potential in language for rhythm, scansion and rhyme are tools to be honed and cherished like a burning glass igniting fires in our hearts and minds that can then take us beyond the shadows in the cave.

Colin Dixon

Flowers paint the grass

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The light has come back
Lambs are in the field where
Flowers paint the grass

It is that time of year. We are treated to more sunlight and the days are growing longer. Snowdrops in the garden remind us that things are changing. Leaves return to the hedgerows and to the trees. We rejoice at the colours of the flowers and go for walks in the sun by the Lake. Soon the bluebells will be with us. We rejoice with our friends the birds who sing in the trees.

Dorothy Crowther

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Soon drunk

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Peacock fans in trees
Smoke turns gold to grey
Taste of ash on tongue

Over-ripe, flowers seed
For next year’s Spring
And you say: ‘Another year
older,’
We smile,
Knowing now
That summer is a sweet cup
Soon drunk

Kath Sunderland

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Walking with Haiku

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i

wide eyed owl sits light
on an ancient platform of
oak and sometimes hoots

ii

foal looks into the
blind eye of an old mare and
thereby knows her depths

iii

blackbird sings for to
call his love who will bring to
birth his future songs

iv

bluebells about the
skirt of the hill invite quiet
delight and picnic

v

dappled sunlight golden
gladdens the heart of one who
came to it downcast

vi

forget-me-not’s call
to minds fractured by life’s cares
is soul’s light within

vii

silk eared labrador
bounds ahead as though present
she already lives there

viii

haughty cat sits on
warmed stone garden wall and is
secretly smiling

ix

timid orb eyed – tail
quivering beneath beech leaves
slowly awakening

x

man beckoned forth to
nature encounters deep joy
amongst earth’s glories

Simon Marsh