Monday, 4 July 2011

My thinking place.

It is necessary to sidle past the green water butts
four in total
protruding over the stone path.
On the other side
a collapsing wooden fence when better days
were many moons ago
leaning now at a hundred angles.
By the wood store
logs propped
one by another and another
looking precarious but curiously stable.
Insects flit amongst the wood
so busy with unknown purpose.
Honeysuckle tendrils twist, turning, changing direction
the flowers hang as thin rain drop petals
with scent subtle and divine.
I must inhale.
I am at the corner
by the centuries old stone wall
where briars angrily stake a claim
and by here I sit.
Butterflies, bumble bees, wood pigeons cooing,
the wings of swallows slicing the sky
the only sounds in the warm summer air.

This is my thinking place.


krouth said...

Awesome! You paint a vivid picture of your 'thinking place'.

Welshcakes Limoncello said...

What a wonderful description, I love the idea of a "thinking place".

CherryPie said...

That sounds like a wonderful place to think :-)

Thank you for visiting me.

the cuby poet said...

Thanks so much for the comments. My thinking place is a real place and just as it sounds. I am pleased to hear what you think as I am new to writing poetry after having read quite a lot before my words hit the page.

Yvonne said...

I like this poem, in particlar " when better a hundred angles" " flowers hang ...subtle and divine" and " swallows slicing..summer air"
Well observed, well done.

the cuby poet said...

Yvonne: I am so glad you liked this poem, one of my earlier efforts. I think if I rewrote it there would be fewer words and the ideas more succinct.