Let’s dance the last dance

Four short poems


Let’s dance the last dance

And fill out arms with roses.

Let’s take the colours of the dawn,

And pour them into sunset’s ocean.


On the edge of tide and time,

I reach out and touch your face,

Damp with feather-soft spray,

Capturing this moment,

Where time still has meaning.


In the broad meadows of moonlight,

The foxes play and field mice shiver,

And I watch their gentle magic,

Watch the web of life enfold them,

In a glorious silver mantle.


Take them with you, when you go,

The hills, the trees and the sky,

Keep them for me on the other side,

I’ll be with you by and by.

Winter gulls

Short poems

Photo ©loggedout


Ice winds murmur keening,

Through scented petals falling,

Winter cold is coming,

Tender green is dying,

And will not see the spring.


Wind blows the blue sky clean,

The sun’s broad field revealing,

But there is no warmth in your thin smile,

And in the air a hint of snow,

Though Easter bells are pealing.


The sun breathes loud on the open sea,

And the clouds sing low their song,

I soar with the white, wave-tipping gulls,

Because you would not sail with me.


Is this hope you offer me or despair?

Do I stay or do I go?

Will you clip my wings,

Or sail by my side,

Over the rim of the sky?


Blue, blue or is it green,

The sky and all that’s in-between

The sea and the yellow upper air?

Follow my gull-flight if you dare,

To where the sun swims in fiery haze,

With moon and stars to the end of days.


Hopeful lines


Beneath the setting sun,

river runs,

vermillion red,

and silver-bellied fish

glint golden,

in these precious moments

before the dark.


Silence falls

between the branches

of winter trees,

tangled with stars,

when the moon hangs heavy,

And winter cracks

its icy knuckles.


The sky so full of stars,

one more so bright,

we can hear it singing.


We could hide,

deny and submit,

or we could run,

put on red shoes and dance,

sing the last songs

in the teeth of the bullets.


Red wine, red flames,

and a red sun setting,

and the embers sigh,

and the red fox barks,

winter will pass,

the spring is coming.

I would banish sorrow

A sequence of short  four-line poems inspired by twitter prompts, linked by the theme of loss, darkness, and the hope of spring.

Pressed flowers © DENG Yingyu 鄧盈玉


I would banish sorrow to the dark corners,

To weep into the dust alone,

Draw the silent curtains of twilight round my head,

But those dark corners are so crowded now.


Blackbird hangs his head in silence,

And leaves the highest branches to the glorious robin.

Among the hoary leaves sustenance shivers.

He shakes his plumes at the cold, the silver notes trickling.


Smoke in the hall, fire in the wind,

Sorrow even in the robin’s call,

For the year is falling into the dark,

No light but our pale candles.


Your voice was sweet as honey,

Soft as sunlight on the skin,

But your words were barbed as a dead rose branch,

False as the gaudy bird cherry.


The year is falling, the darkness deepening,

And the light in the east, no more than a brighter candle.

You took the sun, the last handfuls of golden leaves,

And left the mouldering corpse of fog-drenched autumn.


Bring back the light,

Quicken the seed beneath the dank, dead leaves,

Blackbird, remember your song, your spring voice,

For the year is turning, the darkest times closing.


You took away the light,

Fled with the wintering birds.

The geese will return.

Will you?


Short poems for World Poetry Day

Okay, for the Amazonian Indian hermit living under a stone on the banks of the Orinoco: painting by Vincent van Gogh


Between dusk and dawn,
The night and the morning,
Between the giving and the taking,
Love fled,
And we both woke alone.

* * *

When I am old and grey,
I will not nod by the fire,
Full of sleep and memories,
I will take your hand,
And we will walk together
Upon the dark hills,
Until we lose ourselves
Among the stars.

* * *

Today the cloud hangs heavy,
Tomorrow may bring the storm,
But at least I have the memory
Of a thousand bright yesterdays.

* * *

Wind roars,
But the reeds stand unbending,
Rain falls
From a cloudless sky,
Snow lingers
Beneath summer trees,
For you are gone,
And even the moon is dark.

* * *

City sky,
The dull fires
Of Purgatory
Obscure the depths of night.
Stars fade,
Behind an orange veil,
The moon,
A pale lantern,
Too faint
To light homeward steps.

Micro poems

It looks pretentious to give a thought twenty words long a title, but it’s the only way to break them up on the page.


Beauty is not the word
With the right meaning
But the word
That sings the right song


Mercantile ignorance
Screeches and bites
My dog’s eyes say
Accept this—
Only the heart matters

Message from Africa

Heavy heat falls
From sky yellow-tinged
With a veil
Of desert sand


Some things
The endless sky
Just are.


Snarl up on the road
Hot anger flares
Furious gestures stir up summer dust.
Safe within
Dog sniffs a dead moth on the stair.


Tout ira bien
Elle lui sourit
Mais elle ne le trouve plus
Au fond de ses yeux


Puits noirs ses yeux
Dans les profondeurs desquels
Se noient ses rêves.


Anxious vague unhappiness
Turns to calm peace
At the sight of a sparrow
Learning to fly