The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
The final images below are from my now defunct website which I decided to revisit (cannibalise, if you will) a while back. They are a few ye...
Below is the third - and, so far as I can tell at present, the final - draft of a poem for which I have been quite unable to find a title to...
Wednesday, 29 June 2011
the undiscovered, undisturbed
for sixty million years,
mutating in the forest canopy,
acquiring its exotic colourings
and colourful life styles.
Transparent, blind, voracious,
dazzling in the sun,
they launch themselves from tree tops,
to hunt in packs
and glide and slide in tight
and fight formations
weaving complex patterns
singing in their half-tone way,
and full of grace - and insects,
birds and climbing things
they catch en route -
to vie with butterflies.
My thanks to Magpie Tales for this prompt.