A NEW DAWN OF WORDS

A New Dawn of Words

I try to let time pass,
Slowly - as always,
Yet it still
Goes fast
Beauty of Words….

Ordinary life dimmed
Yet not put out
By this glorious light.

Peace surrounds me
Like a forgotten vale:
Un-earthed from childhood:
A forgotten state of grace.

A web of story-telling -
In a different place
This time....

https://thegalwayreview.com/2016/05/13/helen-harrison-two-poems/

SIMPLE WAYS

SIMPLE WAYS

I remember every brick in the door frame,
her silhouette.

Nellie, an aproned sixty-nine had
never watched a movie,
still thought meat was
the main part of a meal.

She picked bunches of yellow roses
for homeward bound church-going
bachelors; pitying their lonesome ways.

Her spinster world was gay
with giving; usually to old ladies
stiffened by religion and age.

Her greasy hair
her shy smile -
hands filled with care,
.
Gathering eggs
in the hedge,
throwing kindness to hens;
setting jam to seal -
neighbourliness.


Published in https://tintean.org.au/2017/02/06/poetry-13/

BITE

BITE

Glad I can’t mould sea, like land,
It just seeps into my soul, through
My fingers -

Out of my hands. Poems like
Broken shells; fragments of
A person’s life;

All weakness, and strengths -
Exposed to the bite....


https://abegailmorley.wordpress.com/2016/08/05/helen-harrison-featured-poet/

.....SEEDS

            SEEDS

               1

On a Sunday in mid-summer
Right at the edge of the park
You come to me;

Talking future plans,
Shining eyes,
And a heart that dared.
We saw ourselves

Buying a car to travel
Down to the coast
Whenever we took the urge

All planned out under the elm
Of eager spreading roots.
Many seeds scattered

Ideas with wings on the breeze
Hope floating all the way
Towards the sea along winding
Open-windowed roads.

           
             2

Smashed in spring - the last                            
Season you inhaled;
Lying singing on the back seat.

The front driver’s side was saved,
Letting me drive
To dreams that died.

Dreams have a way
Of coming at you by the front
And leaving by the back door.

I pass it now, the car
In the scrap yard
At the edge of the town
It’s only half now.

https://tintean.org.au/2017/02/06/poetry-13/

https://sites.google.com/a/lapwingpublications.com/lapwing-store/helen-harrison

WHEN I FALL

WHEN I FALL

Why is it that the path
Has to mist before
We see ourselves,

Cracks and roots exposed
To an empty ditch
To reveal a broken stem;

Vulnerable, collapsing
Covered in isolation
And open to pain.

Maybe it is necessary for us
To suffer occasionally -
For compassion to remain;

Like a stunted tree, a trapped
Fly, before we can see
Through another’s eye.

My path has been mostly clear
Or as far as I can see
Alone, but never lonely.

Not intentionally
Do I fail to notice
A troubled mind,

If you fail to see me
When my mist approaches.
I won’t think you unkind.

KILLRUDDERY

KILLRUDDERY

Beneath the elders
Where bumble bees
Lose themselves
In flowering thyme;

I lie down in dew-soaked ease.

And dog-rose is the scent
That makes my spirits rise
In the kingdom of the low –
Flying bird.

I take comfort on the mossy soil;

Last years leaves sweet;
Damp In the wing-tipped breeze,
To ease my mind and soothe
My brow;

In dappled light my speckled thoughts take flight…

And the worm-seeking thrushes
Make a rustling sound
Where life goes on
Underground –

Beneath the earthy mound.

                                       
           
               https://poethead.wordpress.com/2016/06/15/killruddery-by-helen-harrison/

         .                                                'Killruddery' is also in my collection of poetry:

          https://sites.google.com/a/lapwingpublications.com/lapwing-store/helen-harrison

PASSING SUNSETS

PASSING SUNSETS

Evening, and there is nothing
To temp me indoors.

Warmed from a day spent in the sun;
I spin it on my fingertips,
Pass it, to my team-
Mates.

Scoring goals
Win rolls of respect. Talents
Swaying to the chants; that
Tribal-like victory dance.

Ball of mesmerising fire -
Football skills that inspire. Cool
Moves; dipping, diving,
Thriving, in the company,

Until friends slip away,
As they are called in -
One by one.

Alone, with a crimson sky;
The breath I take is sharp
Like loneliness,

As the night turns - flat.
     
       https://poethead.wordpress.com/2015/08/29/the-last-fire-and-other-poems-by-helen-harrison