a purple foxglove
stands proud amongst the grasses
of our unmown lawn
a purple foxglove
stands proud amongst the grasses
of our unmown lawn
two herons swirling
bright against the silver moon
an embroidered cloth
a summer meadow
flowers stuck in our dog’s fur
blue forget-me-nots
since lock-down ended
apprehensiveness remains
still holding my breath
occupied shower
awaiting my turn to wash
I fall back to sleep
a wind turned to cold
the sound of tumbling pebbles
washed up on the shore
delicate pink wash
a smudge above a treeline
on a dark canvas
little cushioned cheeks
tiny fingers stretching out
welcome little man
in modesty the
elephant’s ears hang over
it’s fine pink flowers
a wind picking up
changing its direction
a door slamming shut
I dream so I write ..
“Wings are an illusive notion. Some may possess them, but they are not very visible, and as for me, there isn’t the least sign of a feather.” -Amy Carmichael
New Ideas, New Forms
Musings from an insignificant writer
14 hectares of thrills, spills and fun!
A Journal of Poetic Observations
Pictures and Poetry, Picture Poetry
My Journey on the Lonely Road to Deaf Acceptance
Ellen Grace Olinger