Turneresque, your legless torso glides above the the water- meadows
breakfast splutters in skillets on farmhouse kitchen Agas;
The windmill, red brick, derelict (naturally)
rises up, unblinking, ever-vigilant
looking for its sails lost long ago
tumbled like defeated horsemen
and left to rot in briar-patch matrices.
The architects will insist
on traditional replacement windows,
Yorkshire sliding sashes
crafted by apprenticed joiners
trained in the old ways.
Starlings you disturbed
panic, zigzag like bats
loop the eternal loop in ancient air tracts
irridescent in the low pitched sun
as dew shattering off leather gaiters.
Author notes
7/7 1-2
What did you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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your imagery captures a painted
picture so magnificent!
just stunning!
love and blessings
Rend
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thanks
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it is not often
the fog enlivens colour
brick red flamboyant
under wind gushes
idyllic in contrast with constantly shifting,
turneresque, the dabs of silence enhance perception
dragging villages to paroxystic dependence of light cycles
somewhere between day and gone
night and home
a hand replaces windows
it is the smithy of now
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This is really vivid, and very well written. What else can I say, I liked it.
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I think perhaps you paint these more vivid than Turner, it reminds me more of a Monet, those blurred pastels but when you stare from a distance it all becomes so clear that no detail is missed. I think while I was in Scotland I saw a house like this, starlings and wind through unsealed windows and I heard the spirits that had dwelt there, but sometimes I think they enjoy our company. Loved this S. C
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I love 'Turneresque', makes me see the big sky above, and the colours in the clouds, feel the distance.
Your final line really 'boots' the impact of the poem.
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do you miss the cuckoos yet?
I love how you take me places...
cheers, stef -
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The cuckoos are never far away
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lol I know
I'm still here! -
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me too, I think!
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You see, there is a new series of Jane Austin's Emma about to start this weekend on the telly... and of course all those dashing young men and feint cheeked women and the corsets and the northern air... well it's all too much
i love Agas, they smell of home and warmth and bread.. when i win the lottery im having a great big aga range in my spankingly huge festive kitchen
this piece has made me ramble.. i love this village series... write more mr darcy please.. yes sir
ahem
LOLOL
lubblyjubbly
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