The Waterfall The waterfall changes dailyDuring winter storms the waterCascades down, in a thundering torrentLeaving a white foam in its basinWhen gales are upon usIt fights to be heard Over the howling Lewis wind. When the snow and frost Arrives the waterfall puts on A beautiful sparkling display Glistening in the Winter sun. In Spring […]
The Waterfall by Bev Poole Read More »
Boys’ Games They built a base And go there to share Drinks and snacks and secrets. We cannot know Where they go, just when And what time they get home. I hunt for clues Left in my son’s clothes, Stains and smells and wrappers. I gather hints From joyful chatter, Viewpoints and names and games.
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La Roca, My Rock – The Place I Call Home Home is where the heart is,For me, La Roca – standing tall, proud,Embracing the community, grounding us all.Here he crecido – moments shared, moments lost,An identity shaped by versatility.The salty sea air surrounds, parte de nuestro being,Childhood memories held en mi corazón:Summer teatime, late-night dips,
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The Heart Of The Ocean Eyes play tricks. Lips tell lies. But hearts stay true, and while you drown in the warmth of icy water, you’re protected like a baby swaddled in a blanket by their mother; preserved by the ocean’s rhythm. Waves mimic your beating heart, a conversation no one else hears or understands.
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Who am I? Soaring So highI touch the skyThen, looking for a passer-byI swoop to steal some chips. Big and fat – I don’t like cats –I stomp across your roof,My webbed feet echoingLike horse’s hoofs. Floating on waterFlocking together Stalking the pavementScavenging dustbinsTo search for a titbit or treatAmidst discarded leftovers. Annoyingly squawking With
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A Shimmering of Orkney When the wind hurtles over sea and land, the trows fly. On dockan leaves they scoot and swerve and skim the waves with outstretched fingers. Trouble blooms in their wake: hear their delighted screeching. The standing stones do not bow to wind nor fairy. The giants trapped within are silent; they
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The Cold and the Dark When you’re born under a big sky, and there’s nowhere to hideYou can build it up or burn it down, everybody can see you try And you’ll cast a lonely shadow at the edge of the worldEither side of the summer it’s not for everyone It’s a funny kind of
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Island Rhythms I am an island incomerBut here long enough To feel at homeNestled in my Site specific patch Of PointPeninsula Reminded of the Mainland byOccasional fleeting Views of hazySnowy peaksHovering on the farHorizon And the daily view framed At regular intervalsBy the windowHalf way upMy stairsOf ferries and planesTo-ing and Fro-ing Reminders of The
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Be Here you should be hereon such a day the water in the bayis quiet all reflectionglass and as I passgulls fly up and settle further down the shorelike falling snow this is all I need just nowalthough on such a dayyou should be here
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Perimele She will not hear the tellingof the tale as told by Achelous to his friendsas they feast in the cave,because his love has turned her into an island. Mute,alone, to be admired from afar. It will happen. One day we too will be thrown from a cliff. But only in mythswill we know what
Perimele by Maggie Sawkins Read More »