Peace on Earth

 

The final Christmas Card picture.

The baby looked great in this one but the dog looked too yellow in the eye!

 

All the Christmas spirit was gone by this point!

Iglu

I dream
in shades of blue
the view down a tunnel
blocks are cut in an hour
light turns the white ice
shades of blue    I dream

of animal skins

they hold back death

in here it is hot

the brown skin on your

stomach has never been

touched by the sun    I touch

the furs beneath my back

are hot, the grey fur

is filled with lost

shades of blue

I dream

Listen to live poetry this Friday...

Starts at 7.30, book a slot on the door.
Worcester Arts Workshop, Sansome Walk
£3 for the brave
£5 for the audience 

More details here

What is the Gryphon dreaming about? I have always wondered...

The dull thump of a rejection letter on the mat.

So, two anticipated letters arrived this week with the news I did not want. No thank you. Poetry rejection letters. It is disheartening to think of my poems out there and an editor reading them and deciding they are not good enough. Poetry can appear simple, a few lines and finished. But the lines hide hours of thought, careful consideration behind each word and comma.

So my poems are spread out on the table. I can see the flaws in them. I also still see their potential, why  I love them.  I know I can write better. So I will, keep learning, keep writing, keep sending them out.

The wood is desaturated.

Each tree trunk a vertical stroke,

Twigs overlap into letters,

Like discarded whimsical fonts.

Beauty is a short-lived tyranny: Socrates