Long Murmurations Poems

"Azure Vistas"

Azure vistas presented themselves to me
rolling inwards the clouds like tumbleweeds
mercilessly bump fallen angels off the map
like torrents of rain falling petulantly on blunt contracts

I glimpsed the sweet refrain of a resurrection
swift upon a...

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I’ve come back to the place where I had grown,
a place no more as it once was known.
Not a roof, not a room, not one wall left,
just an old, weathered chimney standing alone.

An ill-tempered wind...

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“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Rumi


Upon my quest for quintessence.
I was an amorist, 
positive in poetic philosophies.
Elysian and empyrean effigies,
enlightened in an ephemeral existence.
Life a fragile garland 
festooned with a...

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Ode to life
As I sought the sapling
Laying it deep within the soil
And tending to its needs
I felt the divine light on me
Watching it everyday 

As the clouds passed 
And cast their shadow
In sweet bewilderment
Within its...

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Murmurations.
.
As thickening dusk
Subdues the tiring day
Flocks of starlings rest
Trilling and chattering in array
Upon tendril branches of trees
High up in the towering eves
As numbers increase
In readiness
.
Suddenly they alight as one 
The tress now bare as the...

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Fickle sunbeams tickle fluttering daydreams...…

Lyrical lapping lullaby encores...

Gingerly stroke sandy shell shattered shores..

Starlings spy…sky high murmurations...

Skimming stones....slicing silky sheens..

Voluptuously verdant riddles…islands within idylls...

Scattered daffy darlings..dilly dally...

Sunshine splattered chlorophyll candles...

Animosity as an ersatz monstrosity shines…

Saluting highfalutin...

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Miss Jessica Finch, the avian sleuth 
Was scratching out novels and sipping vermouth.

She lived a charmed life when she was quite young;
Her first book, “The Voyeur: Peeking Duck Hung”.

“Peacocked and Loaded,” no rivals, unequalled.
“All Bluster,...

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Do not shed tears grieving my death;
I do not fear my final breath.

I've felt the wind blow through my hair,
and when seasons changed, I was there.

I've danced amidst falling raindrops;
watching showers quench thirsty crops.

I've viewed...

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The bogs’ their fruit – the woodlands’ leaf
embrace a ripened red motif,
as cranberries and maples blaze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

Where starling murmurations dance
a breathless susurration trance,
ballet in blackbird-shape-shift haze
Oh Lord, I praise October days.

And...

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The murmurations of a wounded heart,
one's rhythm lost, alone and incomplete,
are but a silent cry for where Thou art,
regardless how irregular the beats.

The walls, once closing in and much compressed,
are now relaxed, expanding in relief;
a...

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Trees display vibrant colours that fall in a glorious, crunchy tapestry.

Fruits are ready to harvest, lush blackberries, golden crabapples, plump, purple sloes covered in their purple blush.

Prickly hedgehogs and sleepy dormice gorge themselves in readiness...

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