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January 28, 2020
When woodlands in shambles,
and old fashioned brambles,
lie stinky and soggy with the rain.
and broken tree branches,
just like avalanches,
destroy a once beautiful terrain.
and the aftermath of the season,
that gave us a reason,
to ‘whoop it up’, to the full.
reminds us that celebrations,
no matter how long their duration,
are always followed by a lull.
But very soon after,
the sound of love and laughter,
fills us once more with joy.
when fourteen days later,
cupid arrives to sedate her,
and St. Valentine’s Day, we all enjoy.
December 16, 2019
…. when all but three
were off their head
and others looked
as if half dead
all poisoned by
the arsenic tree
where bamboo swayed
and said ‘not me’
and Ursula from
the other world
with tortured charm
and cultured pearls
chose not to mix
with other girls
dancing through the night
with thrills and twirls
settling for a life
of tales untold
as fading memory
took a hold
where honey lights
shone out so true
in amber tones
from Ursula’s view
as angels came
and took her hand
to a far off, calmer
safer land
and jasmine
in entanglement
survived the seasons
old lament
where three had now
become just two
as Ursula disappeared
from view
no longer being
a driving force
as nature once more
took it’s course
seeking out the weak,
exposed and lame
unshielded from
life’s bitter game
as hawthorn
prickly as could be
watched bamboo sway
and say ‘not me’
though gum trees
taller than bamboo
took on, an all round
over view
as autumn leaves
lay dead and rotten-
a life well lived
would be forgotten
and holly branches
with berries bright
on festive wreaths
came into sight
and mistletoe
on borrowed trees
moved gently in
a winter freeze.
where all but two
were off their head
and others lingered
full of dread
all poisoned by
the arsenic tree
where bamboo smiled
and said ‘not me’.
written by
Harriet Blackbury