Literary Vegan

How came I here Closing Boleyn's own curtains? I look around, speculative, silent, The ghost of a crown Still on my head, Flickering like the candles In the dark. I kneel in prayer My faith is a fire Higher than the fireplace flame - But I am housed in Treasonous coals. Copyright LJ 2021.

  The trees rebuilt the old stone church. Their trunks took their places among the pews,  Where the plant-covered pillars used to be. Leaves entered the window spaces  And wound around the empty panes That once pictured Eden. The branches, curious, felt along the wooden carvings of creatures,  Then let the animals in. And the treetops replaced the high arches, As they themselves bowed Their heads down in prayer. Copyright LJ 2021

Follow me, Robin  When the people come back And noise returns When I have to wear My other self in buildings. Follow me You sitting free on branches,  With me looking up Not thinking about everything  I am doing or have done - Just feet and roots and sun And you, singing. Copyright LJ 2021.

Pastel skies And pairs of birds The Sun appears sometimes, Soft like ballerina steps -  Previews of the scenes to come. But the cold still lingers Fingers are curled into cardigan sleeves. The interval isn't over Yet. Copyright LJ 2021.

Such statues we, Accused unjustly  Hold innocence  In stone -  Heavier than Our crowns That you made us Take down, Only now To be Lifted higher  In effigy For others to see. Copyright LJ 2021.

  I love poetry Because just one word can make All the difference Copyright LJ 2021

The same clouds are drifting That I saw a minute ago The light hasn't changed My feet haven't moved But I have just read  A simple message from you And now my day feels different,  So different, Because you made me feel Understood. Copyright LJ 2021.

My cat makes crescent shapes On the bed She is my moon, Soft white light following me Wherever I go in the dark. The tiger orange circle On the chair Is my sun, My wake up call in the morning  Hovering over my head. The next time I don't feel connected  To the outside, to nature, I will remember this -  That the lights in the sky Came down to join me - That there are also Worlds inside walls. Copyright LJ 2021

When I read stories, There are camp fires And caves  Or blankets  Or inns - All are chapters  Not to be missed. So then, Why do I find it so hard to see, For myself  That pauses are powerful, That resting is still part of The journey? Copyright LJ 2021.

I went to the forest To gather some words To bring home Like the children do The dried pinecones To cover in glitter. Above me the dark green canopy  Was a kaleidoscope -  Shifting triangles of white light With each movement. Underneath, the pale brown leaves Were peppered with acorns  And secret signs of buried treasure  Only the squirrels know. The stream was excited  Because it rained last night And I, because more movement  Means more dancing of the light On surface of the water, That I watched from the bank  Made of rocks and roots - And the face of a rat,  Now and then. I walked back to the tree trunks Where I did find plenty of pinecones, But these were the words I put in my pockets to pull out again And cover in glitter. Copyright LJ 2020.

I cannot see The Sun As a chariot -   Even if she was Sheathed in gold - For she would not be pulled By anything. No, she must be the horse itself - Her hair of flame Rippling with her power That we could only follow, Being the passengers.   Copyright LJ 2021.

I have seen rainbows arch And fall down waterfalls, But this twilight sky Was a rainbow rolled out Across the horizon The colours matched exactly -  As though one painter's pallette  Had seeped in  To another's landscape portrait - Sunset referencing sunlight. Copyright LJ 2021