Literary Vegan

In my high-heeled twenties  I thought flowers had be earned. That I had to put myself in your way To captivate you and Prove how beautiful I was By your words. Now I am older, I like to be barefoot. I know that wildflowers bloom divine On a breath, dressed sky blue red  For the Sun - Whether seen by you, Or no-one.  LJ Ireton 2023

We are perfect stillness - My two circled cats and I. Outside, the wind is Crying, chaotic - A reedy sound slipping  In through the walls To haunt our contentment,  Only for the contrast to enhance it. I light another candle, A silent soldier Against the cold And I write  About both Needing each other For a poem.  LJ Ireton 2023

In the darkest time, Under the mid-season blue sky, I find each Robin by their song, Heralding me into this  Cobalt morning From three trees - An open-beaked tryptich.  Everything about me is reluctant. Everything about you  Beckons  The whole cold Earth To come and turn under your tiny feet. And I do - Walk under the Exhaling, Heat-coloured hearts Of Winter.  LJ Ireton 2023

You can hear the wings Of a restless heart - Beat, beat  Beating against  Its resistance. There are no fae-like fluttering dreams For those whose Imagination never sleeps, But a weighted emerald bird, With a sharp beak; Always waiting on something In this slow world - A heavy hope, creation Hovering In a ball of energy Beating until You can see Her. LJ Ireton 2023

A break in the rain Of November A family of moorhens Patter up a bank Under the yellow leaves Ghostly green in the middle Clinging on - Or maybe  A moment of Spring  For these brown younglings, For me; A kinder cold, Visible soft - Before half a moon  Sinks us back into the season  Of wishing it still Was. C. LJ Ireton 2023

Gentle is the ghost behind the command - Marching a memory Of heartbeats Lingering where earth would meet Percussive feet In polished shoes And masked face - Sharp instruction fills  The space Where pacing  Won't outpace the past - Gentle is the ghost behind the command  When the Last Post shouts into another realm Of night, quiet, silent thoughts Louder is the order, then Yet soft as the soil, Tapped in tandem When there was another, And control felt closer. Gentle is the ghost behind the command - The old clock chimes See-through secrets  Under the Sound.  C. LJ Ireton 2023

Out of the mud marshes of Middle England,  Rainbows rise wide and down. At their source, molten silver has pooled Around mounds of stubborn grass, Making the brown sludge beautiful  And white birds, not minding the shallow, Sit on the sheen,  Dotting the water under the distanced trees And tantrum-tired sky. The spectrum draws eyes over the sodden Landscape, the leaden background - But the gulls only look forward  Resting on the reflected light, Making fields the sea.  C. LJ Ireton 2023