Shades of Blue

The theme of this month's poetry collection is the colour blue, which also happens to be my favourite colour. In addition to my own poetry I have included two verses written by a talented poet and friend of mine called Joe Praks. Joe shares his poetry on a daily basis on Twitter and his inspired words always add a ray of sunshine to my day. 

The first poem was inspired when I spotted an almost hidden wave of colour in a shady corner of my back garden. It brought back memories of a beautifully illustrated book my Mum was given as a child about fairies at the bottom of the garden, which she passed on to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hidden Blues

There's a corner of my garden

Where no-one ever goes,

Where silky spiders' webs

Weave secrets untold.

Where butterfly-like violets

Peep through lush leaves,

Drawing intricate patterns

On a canvas of green.

Where tiny bashful bells

With perfect blue curves

Dance slowly in the breeze,

Sprinkle magic in the air.

When the garden falls asleep

Under the glow of the moon

I imagine fairies dancing

To a blue bell's gentle tune.

Another bluebell inspired poem...

Blue Hearts

Like water

slipping through

my hands,

crystal clear

perfection.

Two hearts beat

in shades of blue

estranged yet

inseparable.

Mirror image,

spotlight eyes,

etched in

my mind,

indelible.

I was lucky enough to get close enough to some damselflies to take a photograph whilst in Bulgaria last year. The rich, beautiful shade of their blue wings took my breath away and has inspired several poems. Here is one of them.

The Moonbeams

Damselfly

tell me

your story,

it's too precious

not to share.

Tell me of

moonbeams

dancing

in the starry 

midnight air.

Damselfly

catch my

teardrops,

absorb my

hidden pain.

Capture my

imagination,

help me

to fly

again.

Damselfly

before you

disappear,

make my

story complete.

Cast your spell

in shades of 

blue before 

finally touching 

my cheek.

The next two poems are by Joe Praks. If you would like to connect with Joe on Twitter and read more of his poetry he can be found here or on Instagram here.

Two nests abandoned

Two empty rooms

With no real space

Keeping their distance

From the fate may it turn

Which way to go now?

The sky is out of reach

But the colour of bluest blue

Reminds me oh, so of you and

How I miss those

Two stars sparkling

Like sand in the sun

On the beach.

Blue for the pain

To get so big

I wouldn't feel

Anything at all.

Blue for forget-me-nots

Growing on the rocks

Forgotten maybe but

Never lost.

Never alone nor ever gone

For any cost.

Blue for the bluest blue

Out from the sky

To allow me to realise

I'm drowning once again

In your eyes.

The Candle

Candle flame

flickering 

gently 

whispering,

casting a

soothing glow.

Hypnotic,

heavenly

entranced

together we 

explore our

innermost thoughts.

All seeing

shining

dark yet

demystifying,

burning in

my mind's eye.

Chameleon

transforming

remembering

mourning

mirror image

of the soul.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read the poetry here on my blog. I will be back with more of the same very soon.

© Jill Webb May 2020

Lockdown Poems

It goes without saying that we are living in unprecedented times right now. Here in the UK the restrictions being imposed on us as a result of COVID-19 are not as great as in some other countries. Our daily walks have become something of a life saver.

In an attempt to draw something positive out of the situation I decided to set myself a little challenge. Last week I wrote one poem every day based on things I had seen, both whilst taking a daily stroll or in and around my home.

I hope you enjoy the poetry. 

Stay safe and well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday - The Fire

Primeval,

burning,

flames licking

and unfurling.

Fire.

Warming,

glowing,

smoke curling

and blowing.

Fire.

Magnetic,

mesmerising,

electric blue

so satisfying.

Fire.

Erasing,

melting,

and finally

forgetting.

Fire.

Tuesday - The Vineyard

Like Alice

in Wonderland

I unlock

a tiny door

to reveal a

miniature vineyard,

of Merlot

and Pinot Noir.

Bunches

of indigo grapes

peeping through

thin green leaves.

Luscious, tempting,

perfectly round

barely twitching

in the breeze.

Two small men

with wizened faces

slowly hoe

the fertile land,

occasionally wiping

furrowed brows,

the sun is their

only clock hands.

I'm staring through

the looking glass

at intoxicating

purple mist.

I'm slowly drifting

out to sea

on a tide

of hyacinths.

Wednesday - The Orange Wheel

The sun may not have broken

through the misty clouds today,

it has landed on the grass

down by my feet.

A cartwheel of bright orange,

a softly feathered face,

a kaleidoscope of smiles

reserved for me.

Thursday - Japanese Blossom

Showers of confetti,
a glowing bride's bouquet,
oriental cherry blossom
sweetly sings my name.

Delicate Japanese painting, 
dancing butterflies,
set against a backdrop
of an ever changing sky.

Perfect silky petals
dancing silently,
waterfall of pink flowers
cascading gracefully.

Friday - Mr Blue Sky

When I was a child
I would lay on the ground,
feel the grass touch my face
as I stared at the clouds.
Filled with awe and wonder
I was mesmerised
by the endless ripples
of clear blue sky.

My imagination
like a burst of sunlight
would elevate me
to brand new heights.
I could suddenly see
beyond the clouds,
I could fly like a bird
fired by super powers.

Fifty years later
I walk on dry ground,
feel the stones underfoot
as I stare at the clouds.
My childhood a memory
drenched in golden light,
I am still mesmerised
by the clear blue sky.

Saturday - The Alder Tree

Suspended
in mid-air
complex structure,
stark dark branches
sprouting cones
haphazardly.

Silhouettes
against the fields
Alder tree
you are unique,
your spiky beauty
fascinates me.

Sunday - Sapphire Lake

This poem was inspired by a walk around beautiful Kelsey Gardens in Burstwick East Yorkshire. 

Through whispering grass
I thought I heard you speak
but it must have been the echo
of a distant falling leaf.

Across the sapphire lake
ripples disintegrate
like my hidden tears
they merge into a haze.

Healing cooling water
rejuvenate my mind,
erase the shard-like traces
of the pain left behind.

Tall feathery reeds
swaying gently in the breeze,
Carry me with you 
into undisturbed sleep.

© Jill Webb April 2020

March Strolls

Thank you for taking the time to have a look at my latest poetry collection. This month I have a real mix for you ranging from a medieval tower in sleepy Paull to a fiery sunset at the birthplace of two of the gunpowder plotters. I hope you enjoy what I have to share.

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I was inspired to write the first three poems after taking a stroll around Victoria Pier in Hull the other week. The Humber was drenched in weak afternoon sunshine, casting a beautiful glow over the river and the many flower boxes filled with colourful primroses sparked my imagination into life.

Stark grey clouds,

Puffs of pewter smoke

Slowly evaporate

The tears and pain

Of stormy seas

Replaced by

The laughter

Of gentle waves.

The golden sun

Casts a magical glow

Over the ripples below.

Insignificant, lost,

A silhouette boat

Drifts back on 

Course and

Finds a way home.

Pink is passion,

Pink is bold,

Pink is a flower 

With a heart of gold.

Pink is vibrant,

Pink is alive,

Pink is a glow

When I close my eyes.

Pink is for ever,

Pink is sincere,

Pink is a dancer

In a primrose dream.

A splash of bright paint

On a canvas of green,

No insipid shades

Flamboyant and free.

Matte kaleidoscope,

Cool purple haze,

Layered yet smooth,

Rotating clock face.

The sun shines out of

Her primrose heart,

A bright yellow chorus

Is singing out loud.

The next poem was written about a historic building in East Yorkshire called Paull Holme Tower. It is all that remains of a 15th century manor house once owned by the Holme family. 

I found this interesting video showing you up close views of the tower. It is absolutely fascinating!

Standing proud on a rugged hill

The tower is all that remains,

You were once the centrepiece

Of a grand medieval estate.

You were never intended to be alone
All around you could not be saved.
The sun lights up terracotta bricks
A reminder of your glory days.

As I close my eyes I picture your moat,
Swirling round you, keeping you safe.
I wonder who walked through your doors,
Warmed their hands by your fire place.

I wonder what battles you survived,

Who watched you from afar?

Who looked through your ornate windows

As the moon danced beside the stars?

The sleepy village of Welwick is another remote spot on the banks of the Humber. I was drawn towards taking a drive there several weeks ago when I noticed a fiery sunset materialising.

An interesting fact about Welwick is it was the birthplace of two of the gunpowder plotters - John and Kit Wright. A sculpture was unveiled in 2013 near to the farm where the brothers were raised commemorating the village's links to this historic event.

Descending darkness
wraps a cloak around
decreasing shadows,
dissolving clouds.
Slippery hillside,
a haphapzard fence,
like an African plain,
stark silhouettes
against a backdrop
of blazing sky.
Awake or dreaming
new horizons defined.

Spurn Point is a truly unique and amazing place. When you spend most of your time in built up areas it is easy to forget we live on an island here in the UK. A visit to Spurn most certainly brings everything back into perspective.

Where the ripples 

of the river

meet the rushing, 

crashing sea

and gently 

bubbling mud flats

meet a sandy 

pebbled beach.

One story ends, 

another starts,

wiry grass 

waves goodbye

as the endless splashing waves

mirror the 

colours of the sky.

Remnants of a concrete bunker,

lonely war time hideaway,

echoes of brave 

soldiers' voices

whispers carried 

by the waves.

Lonely lighthouse 

standing proud,

guiding light 

and sailor's friend.

Surrounded by 

the changing tides,

windswept jutting 

island end.

No poetry collection of mine would be complete without a little verse inspired by the flowers in my garden. When I saw a clump of Christmas roses bowing their heads I immediately felt compelled to put pen to paper.

As you lift

your unsure head

I see delicate

lines of pain

etched into

the paper thin folds

of your pale

and fragile face.

Open your heart

and speak to me

in a whisper, 

an echo, a song.

Don't be afraid

to raise your head

you've been hiding

for too long.

The final poem in this collection was written after a walk on the beach at Withernsea. 

The tide is slowly retreating,

Distant lapping, foaming waves,

Revealing a vast deserted beach

In shades of sand and beige.

Glinting in the weak sunshine

In a basin of water and coal,

Outlined by reflected shadows,

An explosion of colourful stones.

I see hints of ruby claret,

Emerald green and sapphire blue,

Interspersed with mottled garnet,

Tones of garnet peeping through.

Haphazardly positioned,

Coloured rocks upon the beach,

Irregular, multi-faceted

Waiting for the kiss of the sea.

© Jill Webb March 2020

Winter Colour

Over the last month I have written a series of poems based around the theme of spring being around the corner. I have been overwhelmed by some of the positive feedback I've received when I've posted excerpts taken from the poems on Twitter. Now I am happy to share the full collection with you here on my blog.

I hope they add a splash of sunshine to your winter days.

Hidden Stars

I almost walked past

Without noticing them,

Two tiny white flowers

Like chicks in a nest.

They hesitate before

Lifting their heads,

Then open their beaks

To sing from the hedge.

With petals unfurling

And colours of spring

There are butterflies

Waiting in their wings.

The Painted Ladies

They are all dressed up,

They are loud and proud,

They are setting the room

And my world on fire.

They are painted ladies

Wearing bright lipstick,

They may not be heard

But demand to be seen.

They are extrovert,

Determined and bold,

Flamboyant yet cool,

The stars of the show.

Velvet Smile

You cannot fail 

to be amazed

how quickly 

things can change,

From a seemingly 

lifeless pitted bulb

glossy green 

leaves appear.

Then almost in 

the blink of an eye

exquisite buds 

are born,

trumpets play 

a fanfare

as majestic 

flowers unfold.

Daffodil Waves

The yellow glow of spring time

Emanating from each stem

Fills my heart with sunshine,

A treasured long lost friend.

Each petal holds a golden key

To doors I thought were locked,

Waving their arms gracefully

They have been away too long.

A golden ray of joy and hope

Through misty rain and clouds,

I see life through a different lens

When daffodils are in flower.

The Cherubs

Bare branches, brittle fingers

Reaching up towards the light,

Swaying, dancing in the wind,

Weaving patterns in the sky.

My eyes fall like a raindrop

To the ground beneath my feet,

Nestled safely in their beds

On a cradle of green leaves.

Smiling cherubs dressed in pink,

Refreshed by morning dew,

Unfolding buds of hope,

Rays of sunshine peeping through.

Daisy Chains

The winter grass is alive

With tiny splashes of white,

Feather like petals as

Soft as a swan's back

Turning back hands of time.

Each pink tip tells a story

Of distant summer days,

Of butterflies dancing,

Of carefree laughter

And making daisy chains.

© Jill Webb February 2020

       

Iceland

Last September I was lucky enough to tick an item off my bucket list by visiting Iceland. The country lived up to all expectations. With some of the awe inspiring sights we saw it would have been impossible for me not to write one or two poems. I would like to share them with you.

The first poem was inspired by the magnificent Dettifoss waterfall.

Match stick like people

Overpowered humbled,

Gazing into timeless depths

Of endless gushing spray.

The sights and sounds

Demand you stand

And stare in awe

At crystal drops,

Ice coated patterns

Cascading displays

Painted by nature’s hand.

A gigantic symphony,

Fills your head

Yet soothes your heart.

Clouds above, clouds below

It’s hard to differentiate.

Rushing and crashing

Against rugged rocks

Here to tell the tale

Long after we have gone.

The waterfall was so powerful that a spectacular rainbow formed on the spray coming off it. It was an amazing sight.

Translucent pastel arch
From the heavens above
Rainbow orange, rainbow blue
Softly whisper words of love.

Illuminating sunshine
Dissolve into the spray
Make a wish, blow a kiss
Before you fade away.

A trip to Iceland would not be complete without seeing a glacier. We decided to go one step further and walk across one! It was one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

Folds of ice packed tight

Timeless ice blue mounds

Connect without wire

No quick fix to be found.

Glistening in the light

A million precious stones

Stretching to the clouds,

Undulating barren roads.

To stand upon a glacier

With arms outstretched wide

Defies space, time and logic,

Adds new meaning to life.

As we were driving around the Skútustaðahreppur region of Iceland we noticed what appeared to be bursts of steam coming from an area we passed. We immediately went to investigate further and were privileged to witness up close what I later found out are fumaroles. For information, a fumarole is a vent in the earth's surface from which steam and volcanic gases are emitted.

I don't think I have ever seen anything as incredible. It was like something out of a science fiction movie and definitely good material to write a poem about.

Volcanic desert,

Steaming rocky mass,

Bottomless cauldron,

No future, no past.

Sulphuric spray 

Staining misshapen rocks,

Scorched white and yellow,

Science fiction backdrop.

Active yet lifeless,

Shades of barren brown,

Hypnotic, spellbinding,

Ash covered ground.

Unfeeling aliens

Dropped in from outer space,

The blue sky above

Looks strangely out of place.

As our plane took off and I waved goodbye to Iceland I felt compelled to write one final poem to end the trip. It really was a once in a lifetime experience and one that will stay with me for ever. 

When I want a little time

To clear my troubled mind,

I close my eyes and float away

Until I reach the clouds.

In my elevated state

The world seems far behind,

There is no better therapy

Than floating on a cloud.

© Jill Webb February 2020