before the storm

while pavements cower
under a lowering blackened sky
dervishes of red purple leaves whirl up
rising and whipping and flying ahead
chattering and skittering
and leading the way home

Take me home

I don't belong here on these streets
High rise blocks of ochre and cream
No jacket in November and a sky so blue.
I don't belong amongst these women
In their widows tubes and wedge heeled shoes
Juggling their rosaries and mobile phones.
I don't belong where puppies are thrown in the refuse
And kittens are kicked to death for fun.
I don't want donkey stew.
Take me to some british suburb
Red brick houses, victorian semi's
Where men in aprons are lighting bbq's
And washing cars and drinking pints.
Show me gravel drives and much loved house cats,
Leafy places where  the dead sleep under flowers
And children play in gardens and neighbours say hello.
Let me hear a welsh choir singing and the theme from Dr Who.
Then I'll kiss you in Sainsbury's car park
And there'll be sausage, egg and chips for tea.

5th

Wind beats at the harbour walls,
Lifting the gulls laughing into the clouds,
Streaming through clanging mast rings
The bells of a thousand watery churches.

Mindful Writing Day 2013

Amongst  the red rooved cacophony
Of chimneys, cables, aerials and dishes
Two doves chatter
Baring their pearly oyster breasts
To the 9.00 am sun


A mindful writing initiative created by Satya and Kaspa at Writing our Way Home - follow the link if you want to take part.