Author Archives: grahamswords1962

Explain to me please – the point of a tigers’ footprints in the snow. Deep impressions in the impermanence. If only existence was different to the transience of shadows in frozen water. Though we try to assume the might of doomed dinosaurs and leave our mark in clay or sand or mud, time will eraseContinue reading “Tiger prints”

From above the opaque plastic mask that oozed oxygen into her lungs, two bowl-shaped brown eyes rolled slowly in my direction, and they smiled at me. From beneath the standard issue, tissue-paper-thin, patterned gown that posed as a protector to her dignity, a slender, tired hand gently rose, and it waved at me. From acrossContinue reading “A moment in time”

Deep in the Dales, a church bell rings in time and rhyme with a clanging breakfast chime. A bobbing Robin dips and chips, ignoring the tooing and froing cows there lowing. Creaking kettles announce their being, whistles call in response to a Dove’s soft cooing. Tractors churn and turn, ploughing cloud furrows for silent SwallowsContinue reading “Bells and whistles”

For Afghanistan Soft is the grass on which the blooming, billowing morning sunlight lands. Stage lit and starstruck are its innumerable, dew guilted strands. A luscious morning feed, on which mountain muscled bulls feast with greed. Bordered and fenced, territorially stamped that others may heed, The sign which declares, this field is theirs, enter ifContinue reading “Green grows the grass”

17 July 2021 Dawn broke to a cushioned hush as if those last held breaths were cotton wool crushed – and preserved, and saved, and held, like one too many goals. Somewhere, between the walking of those lasts silent steps and the breaking of dawn, the bunting had been taken down, without a sound. Windows,Continue reading “One of them”

For Fathers’ Day Through my mind’s eye, the one that cannot, will not cry, I can still see the fine, life worn, war torn lines in your face. Each and every crack, a river flowing with untold pain. Silent slivers and creeks, scarred like wind dried, ice split cheeks, Inlets flowing not out, they noContinue reading “Dinner Plate”

For anyone that ever went on a club trip to the seaside Take the quiet little train from quiet Bempton, It’s a relaxing, calming fifteen-minute ride. There’s nothing grandiose to greet you at the station, Where Yorkshire collides with the North Sea tide. The pavements are so clean they could be German, Above the saltContinue reading “A day out”

For Anna Louise, with thanks for the loan of her photographs May 31st Here peace propagates, nurturing my mind, with buttercup, dandelion, and dock. Amid the clematis, gentle and kind, I sleep my beating mind, dismiss the clock. Softly my heart sighs, secure where it lies, My mind breathes, at ease, at last in thisContinue reading “Sanctuary”

For Trotsky, no, not that one. May 28th Farewell delicious citrus companion, For three years we shared our breakfast table, Breaking the night’s fast together as one, And now, you gone, and I, miserable. Three-fold were your sweet sunshine hued fruit rinds, Melded too with sugars from cane filled isles. Our love connection, forged byContinue reading “Gone”

or, Taking a walk with Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge May 27th T  H  I  S       M  O  M  E  N  T. That moment is gone. And that moment about that moment is gone. And this moment too will be gone. Is gone. And now you enter the race, the race to beat the moment’s elapse, ToContinue reading “Being here”