What is it?

Words in motion; gathered from the day

Monday, 9 November 2015

100 Re memberings

One hundred years later we remember - at the going down of the sun.
At the going down of the sun they arise - re-membering

Those who fell unforgotten, those unnamed, unfound
Shaking the ethereal dust from serge and Bedford corded trousers,
Smoothing the lines in greyback flannel shirts.
Absentmindedly polishing brass buttons on the palms of their hand.
Easing off the bandoliers long empty of ammunition

Stretching, as those long asleep, embracing the horizon.
Casting no shadows in the glow of the dying sun.
Brothers find brothers, handclasps of friendship
they stand listening to the silence of a different summer.

Those who stood and served now stand and pause.
Unbuckling putties, shrugging jackets
they hitch each trouser leg and fold each flanneled arm
to knees and elbows
Peak of the trenchcap pushed high on the forehead
Farmboys and miners, Navvies and scholars
reliving other summers.

Trout waiting to be tickled in the turning of the brook,
Resting places in the shade of oaks where phantom steeds
have shook off their traces and humph in companionable silence.
Scents of carbolic and baccy hover over wheat fields.
Where wanderers absentmindedly crush the kernels in the palm of the hand.
Declaring the harvest ready for the cut.
Crimson drops of poppies scattered through the gold.

Their lives already given for the day we call tomorrow.
They choose their memories from other yesterdays.
And rest in the going down of the sun.

And in the tomorrows that fill our lives
We will remember them.


Sunday, 28 September 2014

Why not fall?

Why not fall?
sacrifice movement 
to stillness

Offer farewell 
to the whirling 
of the day
and follow 
the forest into 
the halls of 

Finding rest 
deep in curling 
intricacies of 
root and rock
pillowed in velvet
deep, emerald,  mosses.
drawn into the warm umber 
of last year's leavings
Letting the earth carry 
you into forgetfulness. 

They fall, the 
summer leaves
in autumn dress of 
spiced ginger, crimson 
and gold. 

They fall
at the mere whisper 
of a breeze 
Letting go of all 
they are 
Becoming a coverlet 
of rare beauty 
In time 
a counterpane
quilted with 
spiderly handwork 
embroidered with  
earth's tears 
dew and rain 
becoming crystal 
in the beckoning 
of Stillness.

Let the forest 
gather you up
Let your breath 
be the rise and fall 
of autumn mists
Let your heart
be the beat of 
passing days
Let your spirit be 
the song of the earth.


Sunday, 24 August 2014

Twilight Zone

Driving from there to here
Under a fleecing of dark cloud
The horizon glimmering gold
Frantic heartbeat of tyre on tarmac
Juddering through arterial paths
Counting the space between

Funereal stancions of guarding light
Regard the stars with disdain
Highlighting the absence 
Three lane solitude 

A breath breaks 
Into a broken sigh
Unblinking eyes
Let go a glimmer of sorrow  
Clinging for purchase 
Cheek to jaw - then letting fall
Unsuspected grief
To the Twilight Zone


Sunday, 10 August 2014


Even if you don't... 
the stars understand
That darkness can bring light to life


Thursday, 20 March 2014

Woken Earth

The dregs of Winter 
have been drawn out 
and made anew.
A exhale of chilled breath
rests on the landscape.
Sparkled frost dresses the woken earth, 
glistening below tissued shrouds of mist.
A hopeful gift from Persephone
in the turning of the seasons.


Thursday, 16 January 2014

Snow Moon

Moon Goddess
Pregnant with longing
sighs of subterranean stirring

(elfje) wordinthehand2014

Friday, 3 January 2014

New Year Days

Sun rising

into sun setting
with a careless disdain
for the regimented
ticking of the clock