The Ballroom

I don't like the cold,

But I love decoration - 

The forest dressed 

In diamonds,

Inviting everyone to 

The ballroom,

To marvel at 

The white drapes,

The fashion of the season.

The trees swish their

Borrowed gowns - 

They like to be the 

Centre of attention

To those who admire them

In any outfit.

Copyright LJ 2021.

Wolves

I am not afraid

To walk through the woods

With a red hood

And a cape

I met the wolves

That ran through

My brain

Once upon a time

And the forest ones

Never scared me 

Again.

Copyright LJ 2021. 

My quiet one

I don't like loud noises

And neither do little birds

When they alight, 

I approach

Slowly - 

Even crisp leaves can ruin careful steps

When entering the presence of a small soul 

Sometimes

I must stand still for a long time 

Human peace is the open door to nature.

I can only write poetry in complete silence.

A pause - 

One second to learn trust and new colours,

One more to answer curious eyes -

Then, hurried scratches through earth, shouts and sharp barks behind me

Cut through my moment - 

My quiet one

It flies away.

I exhale

As the branch shakes

In unsettled air.

Copyright LJ 2021.

Once

What parts of paradise
Are you missing,
Looking at the pavements
Or just straight ahead?
On your left is a water rat swimming
By the bank -
Mice in water
Seem incongruous
Yet there he goes!
And yes the trees have no leaves
But all the better
For the bold robin
Who landed right beside you.
I can barely walk,
On the greyest of days,
For all the faces that
Stop me -
And remind me of
The way the world was,
Once.

 

Copyright LJ 2021.

The Silence of Anne Askew

A woman you destroy, for a woman you need
In your quest for heresy,
You look for the Queen
By pulling each bone out of me
My body screams
But I will not say her name.
You test me with torture, though already condemned
For speaking of scriptures

On the streets and with friends

But I believe these words will live
Long after I am dead
And I will not say her name.



Copyright LJ 2021.

(Anne Askew was a 16th Century Protestant Martyr who was friends with Queen Catherine Parr.)

The Cat and The Pen

I am trying to write some
Pretty or profound thing
When the cat paws at my pen.
I give it to him to play with.
He is happy when he knocks it over,
Pushes it with curiosity on the carpet.
It is then I realise
That this pause on the page, 

The action that stopped my writing,
Is the pretty and profound moment
I want to write about.



Copyright LJ 2021

My Wings

My wings are iridescent.
They sail by reflecting the sky.
Not everyone likes this.
I have been caught many times -
Someone stood on my wings
As if that new height
Would make them fly and glow,
While I was crawling.
The cruel ones do not know
That you cannot soar, cannot shine 

By holding any form of light down.

I leave them wondering why.
Even in the dark,
My wings resemble the stars
That cannot be grounded.
So I fly.

Copyright LJ 2021