A heart’s wish

Pen and ink drawing by Dante Gabriel Rossetti


Dance to the music of the moon and the stars,
Sing with the wind and the birds in the hedge,
Love fierce as fire, the wolf and the swan,
And share all your dreams with a night-solemn pledge.

Wake with the morning and bask in the light,
Walk in the shadows and sun’s ruddy gold,
Take me and hold me and never let go,
Let your love never falter nor your heart’s pulse grow old.


Haiku Challenge: Loud & Silence

It’s haiku time again. The challenge dreamed up by Ronovan this week is to use the two words Loud and Silence. A much easier prompt, this one.
Here are my two variations on the same theme.
The painting is by Arthur Bowen Davies.


In the loud silence

hush-breathed aftermath birds pause

as you turn to leave.

So loud the silence

where river rushed birdsong thrilled

filled with your absence

Wedding Day

Painting by Odilon Redon


The sun beat down on that day too,
Blue sky throbbing, silver-sheened.
Preened, we two in new-bought attire,
Fire in the heavens and in our faces.
Places taken, side by side,
Pride glowing, new wings spreading,
Shedding the doubts and the fears.
Years we saw of a future shared,
Dared to dream, a bright mist shimmering,
Glimmering lights, star-tailed,
White-sailed and filled with moonlight,
Nightlight, dawnlight, and all the rainbow-coloured cloudlight.
Bright as mountain streams,
Dreams, we painted, ethereal, fledgling-fragile,
Volatile as grey-winged gulls, storm-scattered,
Battered by the winds and settled in our arms, to unfold
Untold joys, fierce as stars, to light our way,
Day after day, until falls the endless night.

Dreaming of winter

Painting by Paul Cornoyer


Sitting with you beneath the trees,
In the cool shadow patterns, bird-sweet,
Making my heart ache,
Thinking of when we will be old,
And if I should lose you.
The world so full of beauty,
That glints, many-faceted from every edge,
Pools in every shadow, raindrop,
That embalms the air with fragrance
From a million growing things,
Would die like mist in summer sun.
Flat, grey, and indifferent, the world,
Nothing to hold,
No dream to capture, beamlike in the hand,
To wonder and to share.
They cannot understand, the children who say,
We would look after you,
As if solitude can be banished with noise and company.
They cannot imagine the great hole that would yawn,
Filling all the dull days ahead with pain and regret.
They cannot understand the darkness that would descend,
The extinction of the light.
With you gone, there would be nothing left for me,
But to fold away my earthly dreams,
And unfurl the wings that tremble with eagerness to soar,
Nothing left but to find the path you took,
Somewhere between the sunlight and the moonlight,
Pricked out in a scattering of stars,
Unseen by any eyes but mine,
And to follow.


This morning various things are taking their toll; sparkle and enthusiasm are sadly lacking. In fact, today I feel proper poorly. I wanted to do a cover release today for the Green Woman trilogy, but will wait to see if I feel like cracking open the Prosecco later.

In the meantime, this is a poem I wrote yesterday as the heat wave was getting into gear.



Chinese kite,

Bad augur,

Fluttering flight straining,

Despite broad-feathered wings,

A blot in the blue sky,




My heart contracts at the portent,

But in all the wide sky,

Are no other eyes but mine

Fixed on the piebald harbinger,

The bad luck falling upon other heads?

And if I turn away pretend not to see?

Amadou asleep beneath the bridge

Sees nothing but the searing dream-sun of home,

The junkie trembles as he finds the vein,

Sightless on the bank of flowing beauty

And the delicate overarching tracery of the poplars.

Magpie cries,

Scattering anathema

That falls like poisoned rain,

Through the leaves of the cherry trees

Leaving no one unstained.


Photo by Lauren


How infinite the stars,

The rolling waves of the sky,

The shifting billowing tracks of the sea,

The river running from mountain to ocean,

Rain falling, falling, falling,

And how paltry your idea of eternal love.

How infinite my world,

Of howling empty darkness,

Where I am creating heaven

Out of the torn tatters of the dreams I had

Before I met you

And listened to your promises of forever,

That ended in the twinkling of an eye.

The end of all things

Painting by Gebhard Fugel


All things end in sadness,

If only because all things must end,

All the summer-sweet memories,

Tinged with bitter brown,

Now that the page is turned,

The petals fallen.

What once was vivid, ice-bright,

To make the skin tingle with that almost touch,

Sifts now, sand-dry, through scrabbling fingers.

The past casts its dusty veil,

Tidies happiness away into a dingy box,

Where sunlight will never fall again,

And all the tears shed in joy,

A simple presage of last tears of sorrow.

She walks through the empty morning

Painting by Van Gogh


In the cool of the morning,

I walk beneath the roses,

Light sifted pink and white,

Perfume dripping with the dew.

Birch tree drips with birdsong,

Falling in dapples about my feet.

I walk, and the mist parts,

Rising from the river into the blue air.

I walk, listening to the quiet rush

Of the tressed water,

Tangling and untangling,

On its way to the sea.

In the cool wind from the west, I walk,

Listen to the silence falling,

At my back the sun rises,

At my face the rising wind.

Wind from the sea in my face,

And instead of the honey of your lips,

I taste the salt,

Though I cannot tell,

Perhaps it is the taste of my tears.