The swallows

The swallows glide in a line,
Clouds behind 
And leap like a heartbeat on a screen
Tiny
Pulses of life. 

LJ Ireton

2023

The Peace Prize

If I'm quiet now -

On my own a lot,

Ink under plants

Tree trunk by water,

Bare feet -

It's because

I'm done with chaos.

My own mind tortured me 

With tangled noise -

Distress signals screaming,

Siren doubts, singing louder

Over each other

For the sanity trophy

In a soup bowl.

Silence

Once was to me 

An unreachable precious prayer,

The ghostlike glitter water

The thirsting throat imagines

In the desert.

I dipped disbelieving, grateful hands 

Into this stream

And here I swim.

Here I swim.

LJ Ireton

2023

After the rain

After the rain - 

Stark white and lingering grey,

A procession of black balloons 

Ghosted across 

An invisible street in the clouds.

Seven solemn phantoms made by man -

Light enough to be lifted away from the earth 

And yet, I thought

What weight must they be carrying?

LJ Ireton

2023

Stone Shadows

At the deepest part of the stream,

Young silver-green fish dart

Into the dark parts

Of piled-up rocks -

A rubble edge of a new world. 

Their white fins flap in the finding -

Sunken stones are waiting shadows, 

A shelter for tiny slippery souls.

But their side eyes re-emerge

Looking older.

In the sleek space of black,

A pause in the dip and rise -

Safety has changed colour.

They are cautious leaving these

Stone shadows now. 

Minute lights flicker on and off 

Under the water -

Decisions in small silk bodies.

LJ Ireton

2023

On the wild water

The lake bites, pre-historic,

Cold -

When clouds come 

Black ink spreads under my limbs.

I swim into wet green sun -

Less unknown,

And towards a lone white beak.

Here I hover, held by red eyes -

Electric on the wild water

Deciding 

On the natural 

In me.

LJ Ireton

2023