Monday, October 5, 2009
This week TFE gave us a choice of 10 of his lovely photographs to choose from, and produce a poem. I knew I wouldn't have much chance over the weekend to write, so wrote something last thursday, then lost it, it's on a scrap of paper somewhere around the house. But it was rubbish anyway. So then I wrote this cheery little number - just before going to bed last night.
Cold as rain, cold as blood,
river caresses cold grey mud,
tickles the oozes
- while smooth stone snoozes.
Old as patience, the air as sharp
as an essence, stabs into lungs,
beside my heart.
A freshness that is ever mine;
In memory dwells the humble line
Iced over etching in frozen time
A freshness that was never mine...
Posted by Niamh B at 9:59 AM