Honeysuckle Wife #DVersePoetics

Cut me off at the ankles or so you said,

stood astride my stump, saw grinned.

‘Not so pretty now are we’

either of us.


Spent the winter finding my roots,

you brought on your hot house girls

throwing out the deadheads

before they even had chance to wilt.


Spring freshened up all that toughening

from too many years the same.

Found new shoots moving upwards,

more bend, less bark to my bite.


Summer and I redecorated it all,

cloaked myself in colour,

announced my presence, my survival.

Dared you to try cutting me down again.



Metaphorically Speaking – #DVersePoets

You with your oak bark hands

planted on the bank

just before the hill drop

to what is now town.


I could see worlds

still turning in your memory,

as if the clock stopped

in a hundred different places.


I even recognise a few

of the people caught here

in this last place of green

before the concrete and brick.


It is a cruelty to take you

from this bank above town.

It is crueller still to take all this



My mother thinks I should try to write some less heavy poems, and I have been trying, but they all seem to twist into the shadows.