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. Anonymous1 May 2025 at 09:09

    Time passes but love remains

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous1 May 2025 at 14:04

    Splendid - thank you

    ReplyDelete
  3. Anonymous1 May 2025 at 17:16

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

    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, ...
4 comments
Read more

The Three Hares

  The Three Hares We continue on our way running, running, running around held together tip to tip so I can hear what she can hear as well as her. And the other follows me in front of her – we are joined up by our ears so we follow, lead and follow running, running, running around we continue on our way. Running, running, running around – no cause for worry – what's to come has already been. The future's past – watch us here – we're going nowhere – the last is first and first is last. Our present moment sees us still although we seem to race – running, running, running around we continue. On our way running, running, running around hearing your persistent questions – why do you keep on asking? We cannot tell you any more. May you share your senses and find soft silence at your centre which is so close, while you go on running, running, running around. The turning of the year, with the various thoughts about the past and the future that c...
2 comments
Read more

The Beginning of Time

  Which beginning of time [the Creation] according to our Chronologie, fell upon the entrance of the night preceding the twenty third day of October in the year of the Julian Calendar, 710 [i.e. B.C. 4004].   The Annals of the World (1658), p.1 Archbishop James Usher 1581-1656   Yes, anything, even time itself must start somewhere, somewhen – a beginning at a point in time is not an easy calculation   when nothing was and something is, with so much yet to come. All of which we now know well – us who had our own beginnings.     Time began on the night before the twenty third day of October four thousand and four years BC. Do not ask what may have occurred   in those earlier blackberry days. October's a month of beginnings and ends. The swallows have flown.  The fieldfares are here. My sums are done.  Now to make a new start. I spent some time – time again! – searching for an appropriate picture to precede this poem...
2 comments
Read more