Small stones about small people

One of the many joys of spending my holiday with my family is the presence of my niece and nephews, who have inspired two of the small stone poems so far

 

Small stones 3 – Elevation

take three children
add a trampoline
expect exuberance

apply daily doses
for the duration of holiday
see spirits soar as bodies bounce

 

Small stone 6 – Epiphany

The tree is dismantled
The decorations packed away
The children help, reluctantly
Little left of the joy
Of the reverse operation.

Two small stones

1 The West Coast Wind

it whistles and howls
prowling around the house
it rattles windows and slams doors
it blows the washing off the line
it blows the holiday-makers off the beach
clouds race across the sky
plants cling to their pots
trees sway, struggling to maintain their dignity
hands thrown up in disgust and despair
and the sand dances
over the dunes

2 – Incandescent

I lie in a white room:

white roof, nearly white walls

covered with black and white photographs.

The bedding is white,

as is the door, and the blinds,

closed to keep out the light.

If I looked in the mirror

my face would be white.

But I do not look.

I close my eyes,

seeking refuge in darkness

which is seared by white lightning.

Changing name

If anyone has actually been reading this blog from the beginning you will have noticed the name changing a few times. As a writer I find the titles to be the most difficult part of writing a poem, and it seems a blog is not very different.

A new year, a new title. Which will hopefully be the permanent name. I wanted to use the title of one of my poems and decided to go with The Crystal Calligrapher. Not only do I really like the poem, but after a life time of people making puns about my name, I figured I was entitled to do it too.

The poem The Crystal Calligrapher speaks about writing, which is the prime topic of this blog, and about painting with light; which is rather what we are doing as we blog. My words will be read, not on a page, but on a computer screen. I also like the idea of each entry being frozen in time, left to linger in cyberspace long after it was written, even after the writer has forgotten it and readers have faded away. Yet our words remain.

The Crystal Calligrapher (first published in Carapace)

the crystal calligrapher

is frozen in time

pen ever poised

painting with light