Poetry and Photos by Jill Webb
Friday, 28 March 2025
Spring Haiku
Friday, 28 February 2025
February 2025 Collection
Sturdy old oak bench
Nestled in coarse long grass
Where the river bends
You have absorbed
Many secret thoughts
Tears and smiles
You have been a friend
To those who have taken
The weight off their feet
And watched the sun go down.
Frayed petals a sign
Of what life has thrown at you
But your heart still sings.
Mavis had never married
She led a modest life
Spent her life
Working behind a desk
Dressed in shades of
Vanilla and white
Until she met Roberto that was
Through an online dating site
He smoked big fat
Cuban cigars
Told her tales of
Star studded nights
Took her to casinos
Bought her cocktails
Ignited a fire
Reflected in her shy grey eyes
The first time she rolled a dice.
Summer 1984
Walking away
From the dole office
Chasing dust
Through cracks in the tarmac
He counted loose change
In his denim jacket pocket
The bus fare home
Or a new 45?
There was no doubt
In his tousled mind
Stomping into
The record shop
Tribal beat igniting
A fire inside
Inhaling, emerging
Emboldened, empowered
He started to think
In a Kirk Brandon style
"I liberate I liberate
Been down down down"
But things are going to change
From now now.
Engraving a dream
Distant birds chase the sunset
Through a hazy sky.
When the sun goes down
A sense of stillness prevails
In this remote place
Coarse grass protects and provides
A safe haven for small birds.
Rain caught in a spider’s web
Shades of light and dark.
Snowdrops meander
Through tumbling ivy woodland
February strolls.
Transient slipstream
A faint goodbye
You look out of the window
Into an abyss of sky
Watching clouds
Disintegrate
Before your tired eyes
Rubbing glass
Erasing thoughts
Of the broken heart
You left behind.
Our footprints
Form an irregular trail
On a pristine
Bed of sand
Causing clumsy
Indentations
Displacing the
Immaculate grains
This crude disruption
Is only temporary
Until the
Cleansing waves
Erase all traces
Of us being here
And the beach
Returns to its
Untouched state.
Screens forever
Flashing bleeping
Vibrating reeling
Chiming squealing
An endless onslaught
Of views and memes
Thoughts exploding
Marketer’s dream
Brains infiltrated
Absorbing time
Emojis blinking
At the end of each line...
Sometimes it’s good
To clear your mind
Of virtual clutter
With no reason or rhyme
Feel the breeze
On your upturned face
Make time to
Realign.
Pale sun overrides grey clouds
And petulant skies
Transforming the landscape
Uncovering hidden facets
Pebbles are dispersed
By unpredictable waves
Forming new patterns
Embracing change.
Bursting into life
Like birds opening their beaks
The crocus choir sings.
A single flower
Smiles through a mesh
Of fading branches
She is a symbol
Of resilience and hope
In the interim
Between winter and spring.
Running slim fingers
Through layers of dust
Around tarnished gilt edges
Of her bedroom mirror
Revealing lines of pain
Etched in contours
Of her typically
Expressionless face
Emotion bubbled
To the surface
Crumpling reflection
Dissolving in slow motion
Tonight she could no longer
Hide from herself.
Overlapping waves
As one chapter finishes
Another begins
In the sea I see stories
Filled with drama and intrigue.
From the first time
He set eyes on her
She was unlike anyone
He had ever met
Words exchanged
Reverberated
Consumed unoccupied
Space in his head
She was a stepping stone
In a swirling sea
Crossing lines
Between swimming
And drowning
Highlighting the beauty
Of fragility
So close
But at the same time
Out of reach.
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