Photo credit: Louise Hastings ~ Dragon in Glastonbury
There is a dragon
perching on a rock,
holding out his wings
to the wind
that sweeps across the bay.
I can see his pale
his eyes caught by the light
thrown from the sun
and while we speak
of legends, fire and stuff,
he bows his head to mine,
listens gravely as I talk.
Or so it seems -
a sensory perception
as real as you or I.
© 2012 Louise Hastings
Image from Trip Advisor
The land returns to colour
over glimpses of the sea,
spring just up ahead
on the breeze, in the snowdrops
with their frosted pearls,
passing on the word
for the winter-witch to read.
In the promised glint of sunlight
a red admiral flaps
around the violet woods,
the yellow clumps of celandine
that shine sharp and bright.
Climbing the ascent
towards the cliff, the trees
peter out and light
sparkles off the water. I climb
higher still, high above the skyline
tracing footprints above the cove,
around myself, waiting for a ship
to disturb the water, be swallowed
by the blue. I stand at the edge
with sea-wind raking through my hair.
I don’t look down at all.
Her body formed of marble
framed by leaf and light,
is rinsed by rain,
winding shafts of sunlight.
She holds the silence, grace,
the shadows of love and loss.
Where she stops the river ends,
a ghost tread between the leaves.
No one will find me here.
I am lost among the birdsong,
their insistent calls of early
morning, legible and bright.
Is this the path through the forest?
Is this the way I came?
Her eyes are watching me.
They see all of who I am.
Dusk has fallen. She takes the first touch
of a book, opening to breathe in its scent,
fingering through pages, letters bleeding
across paper, words wrapped round her tongue.
There is ink and blood and she is bound
between its covers, captured within images
that lay huddled by the yellow lamp. Outside
the room, bat wings catch the moonlight.
An owl cries. She’s settling for the night,
hunger fed until dawn glances
through the forest skyline, stepping
from this world to the next still crouched
in her dreaming mind, with a poem
lifting off to somewhere unknown.
This poem has also been recorded by the wonderful Abigail @The_Linnet and can be heard here
Written for dVersePoets Open Link Night (it’s Tuesday again already!) ~ hosted by the wonderful poet Claudia Schoenfeld
They come each year in summer,
crowds jostling for space
on soft sandy beaches, liberated
to taste the salty tang of fresh sea air.
A wave-break sweeps away
their weariness of life; the shape
of freedom unfolding
in the slackness of their limbs.
Peace returns again at dusk
as the last of the tourists leave.
Every moment changes
like passing clouds in orange skies.
There is a restlessness in me
as the sun slowly dips beneath the surface.
I watch as white birds circle the vastness
of the open wide ‘out there’.
The elusiveness of words are wrapped
in a longing I cannot explain.