Best Wove Poems

listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.

now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the...

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I remember the day I became a poet.

In the magnificence of the submerging sun,
I glanced upon her admiring its majesty.
Amidst hues of clementine and lilac,
her...

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Like a spider you drew me into your web
Cocooning me within your silver threads
Words, pretty words
I was totally taken in
Wrapping me up in silk ribbons,...

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Written for the Avebury Gorsedd, 24th September 2016  
I wish you well...

I’m here, again…
Come riding in, upon the western wave
My hair all wove with...

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When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house there by the...

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(The memories are simple, living the feeling significant)

After conquering Beamsley Beacon due Southwest,
Rombald’s moor stood, while for centuries
within the valley the minute dwellings
of grey stone,...

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She kept it all inside her
and never spoke a word,
though her thoughts flew and darted
like a trapped and frantic bird.

Inside her was a garden
that was...

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When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove...

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He crafted word ...
all plucked delicately
like the petals pulled for a vinok
precious and pink and pulpy
wove them, giv'n a similar grace
not for vanity, mind you...

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My best friend and I
Ran barefoot through the garden
Stirring the petals
Her hair tied back in two braids
Her skirt trailed out behind her

We sat by the...

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My great, great Aunt had a lovely old home,
with many a wonderful story,
hidden within its walls.

A Victorian, architectural designers dream;
vaulted ceilings, full of ghosts;
where spirit...

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The light is coming and I wish you well...

Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook...

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When Whitman said
make your life a song,
had he spoken to old whalers?
Did they tell him of nights becalmed
on a pacific salty sea,
when no sound of...

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Most of the days as I buy vegetables
the old woman would move around
close to me like the winter tree
The leaves mostly robbed by the time
tangled...

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Soft eyes of brown, hair a cascade of curls, 
Your smile, a contagion that enraptured the world,
Dispositions like whispers of a wondrous spell, 
With a...

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