CONCH SHELL

I always look for these shells whenever a bit of sand hoves
into view. They are such a gift. My hopes were pinned on
the promise of far places they offered. Some of that promise
has been redeemed but nowhere near as much as I would have
liked. One of my brothers, on the other hand, went to very
far away places, with National Service and my husband was a
sailor who sailed to far flung places. Both should have been me!!

(I’m going to apologise for the word ‘hoves’ as I’ve used this for
ever meaning as ‘when something comes into view.’ However, I now
discover it’s not in any dictionary. Can anyone shed light on its
provenance? As it is, I think it must be colloquial?)

CONCH SHELL

All life lies
In the curved hollow
Of this curling shell
Resting in the sand.
Full of silent loveliness,
Of enduring beauty,
Even when smashed
Against sad wrecks
Or drowned in rock pools.

Put it to the ear,
Let the oceans
Of the world
Whisper their enchantment.
Of whales,
Of new places,
Of new moons and stars,
Of ships that pass
In the night.

Fill the listening heart
With desire, with longing,
To be swept around the world
On the backs of white horses.

MEMORY’S LITTLE HELPER

MEMORY’S LITTLE HELPER

Old Friends and new friends,
Lovers of the past and Lovers of the future,
Tellers of long stories and short ones,
Writers of diaries and letters,
These are the quiet narrators
Of those who share their journey.

Every single one remembered
In one thankful dash of the pen.
Ready to catch them
On stone, papyrus or paper.
Ready to be passed on from one to the other .

There to live again, now and for ever,
At least, almost for ever.

STORM AT SEA

mermaid 2

STORM AT SEA
This is burning life,
This sea.
This blowing wind that whites the world
With foam and icy breath,
Tumbling the sea into a rumpled bed
Upon which ships of myth and legend sail.
Sail or sink
Beneath the green covers,
Lulling themselves to sleep
With the sound of mermaids singing.

PLENTY OF ROOM

The town was packed this morning, everyone enjoying the
sun, arms stretched across the back of the benches. There are
some trees up near the market and, August or not, a leaf had fallen
off one of them and lay right in front of me.
So beautiful I had to write about it.

PLENTY OF ROOM

Full of leaf
This world is.
Full of stem and stalk,
Leaf and tree.

Full of leaf.
Full of lazy snails
Creeping towards dinner.
Of whip-smart ants
Flying in flawless battalions.
Cogitating, debating,
Thinking hard thoughts
Of nipping and of biting.

This world is
Full of leaf.
Full of chlorophyll and colour,
Of green and brown,
Russet and yellow
Of white leaves and black.

Full of shape and little leaf veins,
Full of tiny tiny spiders
Weaving little tiny webs
All over the fallen leaves.

This world is
Full of leaf.
With plenty of room
For more.

LATE SUMMER

late summer

We live near a National Trust park but I knew it when I was a girl and it was just trees and
all the other lovely things in a familiar wood. We go up a lot usually but we’ve not been
for some time because of illness. We’re gearing up to visit again but this poem
reminds me so much of that lovely place. I remember standing in one particular spot
and starting to write this poem in my head.

LATE SUMMER

Late summer now
And the little lost paths
Are dry and cindery under foot;
Dust and the early mist
Curling around the edges of the day.

A leaf falls, as the trees
Shake their slow golden heads,
Filling the air with the sad sound
Of leaves falling, drifting, tumbling down.

Over the hedge, the stubbled fields
Sigh, and settle into waiting
For their dry stalks to be ploughed
Into the earth.
Lovely furrows then, stretching
Into the infinity of a much older vision.

And Autumn dances in the woods,
Her red and orange skirts
Billowing around her twinkling feet.
Her red-berried head bobbing with excitement
As the time comes
When her beauty can be seen in the burning forest,
Her loveliness caught in the cobwebbed hedgerows,
In those tiny, sparkling shawls of light,
That wrap us about
With the fierce grace and beauty of love.

	gwengrant on THE OLD STATION WALL
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