Europa Poets' Gazette No 76

Wash Of Silence
Mist settles over verdant copse,
Smooth as silk passion,
Smothers and kisses leaves
that cannot clap in the still,
And this weary bull
senses only slumber,
Head leaden as the grey,
Not a whisper from damp meadow,
Not a murmur from
those stout, bark sentinels,
Just the wash of silence,
Old and tired eyes
have seen the canvas of every season,
Let it be this long,
As long as mist hovers,
To creep through every branch maze,
Till the end belongs to chill air,
And one acorn does not loll,
But crumbles in a whisper.
© Michael Garrad July 2010
(Based on a theme from Valley Blue in July’s issue.)
Dream
Street lights over lonely park,
In the dark,
Houses, and lights within,
Reflect excited, echo din,
And dance with rain, cold,
In flimsy coat, this man, old,
Huddles ’neath awesome glare, fluorescent,
And with remorse, not in the present,
Lives memory where children squealed,
In dark solitude all concealed,
Shadows, stark, in the gloom,
Alone, in this vacant room,
Looking out and out, within,
And through glass, aged and thin,
Damp lights gleam
between visual and what is dream.
© Michael Garrad July 2010