Evening voices

For the dverse open link night.


This evening the sky dripped red sunset

From billowed orange cloud,

And the birds in the hedges were silent,

A huddled feathered crowd.

This evening the sky was a torrent

Of flames that left the earth cold;

In the wind I heard the shrill voices

Of the children who never grow old.

They stroked my cheek with pale fingers,

Leaving icy trails of my tears,

And the restless sound of their laughter,

Will follow me down all the years.


I’m not sure about this dverse prompt—punctuating silence in poetry. To me, words are indissociable from the silences between them. I have used this as an excercise in emphasising silences rather than marking them. I hope I’ve got the right end of the stick…




the wind speaks,

and in its voice raindrops drum on fallen leaves.




earth hums to the beat of rain and wind,

leaves fall and cup the falling drops.


Silent drift—


birds, buffeted and bent-winged, blow

across the field of vision, criss-crossed by the rain.




storm air sings, plucks the strings

that hold the bent-winged birds

in balance with this blast


of silence.