Skip to main content

Still Life



 

Love comes in many forms.

My little poem this month celebrates a couple of them.

I celebrate the manifest love a girl feels for a tiny bird upon her hand.

In this moment, she is captivated.  It is as if, for a timeless instance, during which they each illuminate the other. nothing else exists,

But another form of love’s in play - a father's love for his daughter. She's grown up now, but here she still is – an innocent girl, my daughter, entranced by a bird.

I too am captivated.

Perhaps that's what love's all about?

 

Still Life

 

A moment it was

and a moment still is

when colours come live

soft life radiates

and lightness descends

to surprise and delight

one who is loving

observant and awestruck

whose open hands gentle

a wonder of nature

sensing perfection

 

warm in the sunshine

a golden girl glows

blessed by a fledgling

just for a moment

a moment of stillness

before each flies away

 

Comments

  1. Time passes but love remains

    ReplyDelete
  2. Splendid - thank you

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh - what a very special moment captured and enhanced in a very special way. Bravo.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Lovely Richard. Thank you!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Rake Daddy Rake

  As with lots of good stories, there are many versions. Basically this one's about a pair of Wiltshire yokels raking a pond for kegs of smuggled brandy.  They feigned lunacy when surprised by the excise men, saying that they were trying to rake out the full moon which was reflected in the water.  Their ruse was successful. The officials had no trouble in deciding they were lunatics, so left them to their raking. Interestingly, the Lunacy Act of 1842 defined a lunatic as someone ‘afflicted with a period of fatuity in the period following a full moon’. I suppose any time falls into the category of a 'period following a full moon'.  As for fatuity, that might include all of us on certain occasions, not least since it's not stated how long 'a period' is.  Perhaps then we're all occasionally lunatic... Be all that as it may, on this occasion the lunatics (I've put inverted commas round the word and taken them out several times) outwitted the sober and sane, ...

A Concatenation of Catchwords

    My daughter’s cat has captivated her family. Even I – being more of a dog person (Timmy our Jack Russell hates cats) – found myself admiring his grace and beauty, and all those skills a cat deploys and enjoys.  Thinking about their cat, I realised how many words contain 'cat'; so it was that this poem took shape. Predictably, I then thought I should write a dog poem. I didn’t actually get very far, having identified only a few dog words: after dogma/dogmatic, dogged, lying doggo and Venetian doges I began to run out. So the dog poem had to wait, its tongue hanging out. But having just gone to my (big) dictionary and found a long list of dog words and phrases, ranging from a certain Shakespearian Dogberry through dog collars, dog days and dog-eared to a dog’s dinner, the Dogstar and dogwatch, I now feel like telling Timmy something can be found to be thrown, and he can wag his tail – even chase a cat.    A Concatenation of Catchwords   Where ...

Bear Necessities

  Coming back to an old work place can be startling, especially if it's been abandoned. Abandoned not just by you, but by those who might have followed. Forsaken for good, even if circumstances had made it impossible to continue. It might not help much to remind oneself that part of the reason for all this was that the work was inefficient, clumsy and had become outmoded. Maybe worst of all would be to find amongst the ruins and abandonment an entirely inappropriate new clueless set of incumbents who could never have understood how hard we'd tried? But perhaps after all, that might be consoling. A comforting realisation that all has not been wasted, that new uses have been found for what we've left behind – in short, that life goes on. We hope. The Forecaster   This was where we lived and worked – a weather station way up north – Wrangel Island, to be precise Kolyuchin – north of Chukotka.   We made observations, carefully measured the various meteorolo...