Category: poetry

It’s small but it’s there

That glimmer from the hidden

Fire that burns deep in my

Belly

It tells me determinedly that

I can do these things that

I dream of and it’s not

Idle dreaming, wishful nonsense

Distracting me from

Reality

The nagging whisper that

Refuses to be put out

Despite naysayers and laughter

Raised eyebrows that say

Dreamer

Smirks that say put it away

The glimmer that refuses

To be extinguished

The magical light that

Even as a tiny almost unseen

Flicker

It keeps on flickering

Glimmering and will not

Go out because the spark

Is hidden away in my soul

Untouchable.

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

He snatched it from her hands

Faint smile upon his face

As though mildly impressed

Then advanced cutting space.

Her feelings had been given life

On a world on these pages

And this is what you’re doing

The look in his eyes raged

She smiled still hoping for understanding

A moment where he’d utter

Where he’d see her need to write

Then she saw them, the shutters

They crashed down so silently

They ricocheted in her head

Do something useful, normal

You can dream rubbish when you’re dead

To make the point a certainty

He reached for a metal pan

In it page by page were burned

Her dreams by his gleeful hand

It took a while for her to see through

The veneer of his helpful comment

Until the day she snapped

Walked out leaving him to lament.

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

He preens in preparation

For the next adoring patient

That will bow and scrape

At his little polished feet

His moustache waxed in exact points

Pudgy flesh over stubby joints

He sees it a necessity

Definitely not a vanity

To have the latest silken cravat

Hiding from the public his newfangled

Words set to confuse the people of the day

As he sticks out his chin indignantly

And waits for you to pay

Ailsa

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

Ekphrastic challenge with Paul brookes at wombwell rainbow

I came to the island a city lass

Something clicked and moved

Into a place

An empty space

I didn’t know was there

But I started learning

Some said the island hooked me

But it didn’t hurt

More like wrapped in nana’s arms

Being told I’d found my peace

With vast seas and

Seas that crash or whisper

I kept learning

Many scoffed at this silly dream

After all it’s life on an island

Things are slower here

Because everyone knows

That to hurry makes you deaf

To nature’s teachings

And you never stop learning

Never stop learning.

©️AilsaCawleyPoetry2020

She lived there alone, but not lonely in her home on the hill.

It was nothing fancy, no frills adorned the door. Only the old Rowan tree that curved over it.

Her years seemed to have gone on forever and she knew that one day soon, they would, as with every other creature end. People named her the wise woman and it was not her wish. For names held power, or danger, depending on whose hands held them and whose mouths spoke them.

Few words passed old Elspeth’s lips. Morning greetings, or asking after someone’s health, an offer of a prayer for the return to health or a painless end to their life. A blessing offered for a newborn. The same as any other person in the village did.

The difference was Elspeth lived outside the village. Elspeth lived alone. Elspeth was a woman.

Her garden bloomed with flowers and vegetables , herbs and berries. She grew as much as she could because she liked it that way. Her life was a life lived for many years alone.

She had lived as a young woman and lost both child and husband in quick succession. She had dug the graves herself, being without family or friends willing to help her. Elspeth had been alone many years and was content in her own company. Safe in her solitude, she’d thought.

Until now.

Only today a man in a tall hat had sat astride a horse, calling her outside in the howling wind to answer questions of a curse she’d supposedly uttered over a child.

She stood tall. Told him she’d uttered no curse over any child and had said she hoped the child was blessed.

He spat at her, saying that the child was gravely ill and he’d been called to investigate the possibility of her witchcraft. As he left he disdainfully called her Cailleach and spat in her face, hissing he’d be back for her. Sooner or later.

She went inside her home, closed the door and for the first time, bolted it. Her anger and fear made her shake.

As she went to bed she knew one thing, she had to be careful as the man wanted to come back. He was afraid of her. Fear made men act strangely.

©️AilsaCawley2020