The River
In response to Fairy Flood by Seamus Heaney Rolling Controlling Threatening Inviting. Will the River be my Keeper? My cleanser? My destroyer? I only dip my toe in - fearful – careful. She laps and tickles my toes and the encouragement is enough – Knee deep - Thigh deep - Waist deep – Being borne on the impetus of her flow … Freely allowing her to take me and abandoning my own will. The stones hurt my feet. Yet I keep wading in, The fear replace
The Moon
In response to Ballad of the Moon by Frederico Lorca The Moon creeps, The Moon wanders across the sky. Her path set, Her intention clear. “Run, Moon!” “Child, let me dance. Come, hold my hand, follow my path. You are safe with me.” The air is watching, watching, like a mother, like a blessing. No need to run. No need to fear. “Moon Child dance with me across the sky.”
Upside down in special pumps
In response to Lies by Jo Shapcott I prefer the lambs. No restrictions. Excitement in everyday things. Laughter, like we laughed when young. Dancing, like we danced when young. Able to jump and play unselfconsciously. You can give me special pumps - and I will long for the footwear that has been stolen - the youth, the freedom, the joy. I don’t want to walk across the sky upside down. I want to be in the field, not having to think, or plan. Or balance. W
Hearing what?
In response to Scilla by Louise Gluck Hearing what? What you want to hear? What you need to hear? What do I want to hear, or need to...
Touch
In response to Waking this Morning, a poem by Muriel Rukeyser Touch. Tactility. Wisdom. Sometimes I let my feet lead or my hands and I...
When I loved
in response to The Fist by Derek Walcott The pen does not want to meet the paper on this one. I do not want to write about this. Inside I...
When I leave
In response to Stitch by Imtiaz Dharker Dying. Maybe I’ll become a leaf and float to the ground, slowly dry out leaving fine lace detail ...
Yesterday
In response to I Was in a Hurry, a poem by Dunya Mikail Yester. I don’t know the origins of this word. It speaks of longing, and of the...
Cups
In response to 'Cups' by Gwen Hardwood Cups They know us by our lips. They know the proverb about the space between us. Many slip. They...
The little box
In response to 'The Little Box', a poem by Vasko Popa the little box was so small, that I could not see it. I even put my glasses on, and...