morning light by Martha-Ann

Last evening when I went to bed the moon was clear and bright
The stars peeped down atwinkling within the velvet night.
At sunrise when I woke and rose, the curtains opening wide,
The window panes were pearl, opaque, I couldn't see outside.

A tracery of leafy shapes the window panes adorn
Jack frost had been and drawn then there then vanished with the dawn.
Each window pane's a beauteous sight
Of ferns and leaves and diffused light.
His ice creations, fragile patterns, delicate, a filament of grace,
Filligrees of snowy white, intricate as lace.

I've been to many galleries the paintings there to see
By famous artists, world renowned for their expertise
But Jack Frost surely must compare with every one of these..

christmas trees by Martha-Ann

re-cycled pleated pyramids of written words
narrative cones adorned with golden stars
effective simplicity from a Jilly Cooper paperback!

where's the food? by Martha-Ann

Three little dickie birds sitting in a row
Waiting for breakfast and squabbling so!

ambrosia by Martha-Ann

juicy
crisp orbs
of purple red
little sacs of sweetness
bluish bloom upon your cheek
mouth wateringly gorgeous treat
bunches hanging temptingly
for me
Mmmmm!

remembrance

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

reflection by Martha-Ann

We walked along beside the shore
the sun cast silvery sparkles across the sea
an open fan of diamond glints
impatient on the wind ruffled surface of the waves
that twitched with every breath of air
painted prisms of perfection


Contemplation by Martha-Ann

He stood alone gazing outwards from the shore
contemplating some silent thought
his face was wreathed in sunlight
it glinted on his auburn hair raising a coppery glow
to cross his wistful countenance

passion flower by Martha-Ann

stylish beauty luminous in Novembers drear weaving the story of our lord

five petals and five sepals the ten apostles who loved you
the two missing are Peter who denied you and Judas who betrayed you

filaments of the corona represent the thorns of your rough crown
three pistil stigmas the nails you bravely bore
five stamens the wounds upon your broken body
the leaf lobes shape the lance that pierced your side

spotted leaves betray the silver Judas received
flowers closing after just one day...the time you spent upon the cross
they fold their petals over the ovary to represent you in your tomb

Sweet passionflower the symbol of our faith

winter visitors by Martha-Ann

Fieldfares, cousins of our native thrush,
Come homing in on a silent rush
Of wings, to settle in the hawthorne hedge
And gorge on berries plump and red.

The gauntlet of the gulls outrun
Exhausted birds are almost done.
Mid noisy, straggling, chuckling flocks
They swoop and wheel across the docks.

The Russian winter borne no more,
The long, long journey to our shore
Forgotten as with breath a-bating
They find the feast is laid and waiting.

Flights of hundreds can be seen
An age old part of our winter scene.

storm by Martha-Ann

Dark and brooding storm clouds gather
Scudding o'er the storm lashed sky
Screeching winds buffet the landscape
Leaves and twigs go whistling by
Raindrops once that pattered slowly
Ever faster deluge down
Inkblot patterns merge together
Soaking in the parched hard ground


Perturbation by Martha-Ann

Rooks strut the straight brown furrows
probing with soil bedecked beaks
searching for grub or beetle
then rise like one majestic creature
flying into the keening wind
to head for the shelter of their pine tree roosts

leaden clouds scud impatiently across the darkening sky
as rain drops begin to pitter on the bare earth

trees lean from an ever increasing wind
as the last of the autumn leaves
are stripped from their precarious hold of the bare branches

glistered raindrops burnish beech twigs
ephemeral beauty destroyed by the fierce wind