Prompted by a friend to write a poem on clouds, I reflected on what they mean to me. It’s fascinating how thinking about something like this can evoke memories from the past.

I recall when I was at school we had acres of lush green grass, tiered with slopes that we could roly poly down. The clouds made me think of when I would lay flat on my back on the grass gazing up at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds on a beautiful summer’s day.

I also remember how I enjoyed flying above the clouds for the first time when I was a teenager, looking down on them and seeing fairytale mountains.

The following are the words that have spontaneously come to me.




Stretched out on the emerald pillow

The light sapphire canvas blotched with stately mounds

Wishing I was up amongst the clouds

Gliding serenely o’er the world


Zooming beyond the realms of living land

The magical marshmallow mountains

Bestow a safe haven in my mind


Clouds are forever there, bumbling along

Swept by the whipping winds of fury

Today their blackened stains threaten

As the wands of wetness streak down


A passing theme in our lives

A cloudless sky perfection seems

Yet without clouds, life would pass us by



Welsh Home in the Morning


Birds are all a twitter

The tractors out to play

A distant sound of rumbling

Along the winding way


Water it is trickling

With golden weaves of fish

A lonely quack of duckling

To break the peaceful wish


Clouds so softly spreading

The trees stand proud each day

A single bark of wanting

To dance amidst the hay


People they are rising

With gentleness and calm

A far off plane is passing

What seems to be a farm


Rain it is so threat’ning

The air is damp and chill

A golden thread is drifting

To warm the writer’s quill


Earth is giving goodness

With leaves and buds and seeds

A show of labour’s loving

To meet the grower’s needs


Home is where the heart is

The gift of life to share

A blend of couple’s dreaming

And all that makes a pair


Wales it is so precious

With love for all to give

A place where nature’s living

Makes life so positive



Stars that twinkle in the night

Stars that seem to glow so bright

Through the depths my soul does feel

A gentle pull that makes me reel


Stars that wander in the day

Stars that gather come what may

Through the magic that awaits

A welcome calm is what it takes


Stars that follow moonlit ways

Stars that send their softest gaze

Through the heaven’ly spirit guide

An angel takes me for a ride


Stars that fondest thoughts evoke

Stars that drift afore I’ve woke

Through the glistening wands of light

A touch of wonder fills the night



This poem was written some while ago and was inspired by a documentary about light and how important it is to our lives.



Where does light come from

it comes all around

We take it for granted

till it can’t be found


What if it left us

and never came back

Our lives would be ruined

with such a big lack


What is its value

and do we all know

that light is our leader

controls where we go


Our clock it is ticking

we live day to day

and light is the reason

we find the right way


Yet do we take notice

of what our soul feels

and do we respect it

the natural wheels


I gaze with such wonder

at all that light is

A miracle surely

without it we’ll zizzzz…. or not!



I have found my poems!!! Such a relief as they are very personal to me, so will be sharing some of them over the coming weeks.



I love to sit and feel the warming sun

and read the words that scatter on the page

as breeze and shifty bees do test my strength

to wallow in the pillows of the spring.


I yearn to be with nature all the time

and let my mind evolve across the field

as footsteps lay before the way is set

to take me through the crazy wooded mire.


I love to sit and feel the warming sun

and hear the tweeting call from far above

as distance floats between the knitted yarn

to free me from the traps that I have won.



When I was sorting through papers the other day I came across a copy of one of my lost poems – one of my favourites. So here it is … The poems I have written to date are spontaneous as they come. This one reflects the beneficial effect that walking by the sea can make to me.


The Sea’s Gift


Swirling, swelling, choffing about

ever there, forever no doubt

Wondrous feeling, breezing hair

Visual landscape, no compare.


Softly, seeping, lapping away

ever there, forever a day

Gentle ebbing, loving cure

Sensual feelscape, yet so pure.


Twilight, twinkling, milling anew

ever there, forever for you

Heaven crying, flowing deep

Mystical dreamscape, I will keep.


Sunshine warming, glist’ning delight

ever there, forever my might

Soulful cleansing, giving hope

Miracle seascape, I can cope.


I wrote the following poem when I was attending a creative writing course and tasked with eating an orange and then writing about it.  I chose to approach the exercise mindfully, which meant that I fully focused on every move.  I had ensured that I had peace and would not be disturbed.  I feel that mindfulness resulted in far more descriptive vocabulary than I would otherwise have used.


(C)2010 Aurimas, Flickr CC-BY-ND via Wylio

(C)2010 Aurimas, Flickr CC-BY-ND via Wylio








The Orange Globe

Round and dimpled with a fiery hue.  Balancing on the shiny plate, aware of the carefully-placed threatening steely blade.

Light glistening through the window enlarges the pores, breathing life once more.  Almost perfect, it’s marks prove individuality.

Rough, bitter sharp rind tingles.  Soft grating renders the globe slippery, with a creamy and oily texture.

Thumbs pummel, pressing determinedly to squish open, testing strength.  The pithy coat yields yet resists.

Stabbed through the heart, crackling fibres torn.  Rough saw sound dissects, two halves fall apart.

Juicy pearls cradled within are savoured, sucked and dripping.  Shreds of that which remain discarded.

Fleshy nodules erupt in the mouth, flooding with tantalising golden nectar and a bittersweet lick.

Sticky and blessed, all that remains is a sunny mess.

One thought on “POETRY

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