Submissions by SeaCat
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Nasturtiums in light snow
Cold bites to my bones, stings my skin, joking
that summer was ever warm.
Beneath an iron sky, stragglers, jovial party people
linger by the cold windy door.
The warmth of their orange and red rages,
but diminished, by a light snowfall blanket.
It weighs them down,
their hot summery heads drooping under early winter’s white weight.
No cabbage white or tortoiseshell will visit these roguish
summer remnants;
the first frost will finish them soon enough—
smiting their tender leaves and stems to...
that summer was ever warm.
Beneath an iron sky, stragglers, jovial party people
linger by the cold windy door.
The warmth of their orange and red rages,
but diminished, by a light snowfall blanket.
It weighs them down,
their hot summery heads drooping under early winter’s white weight.
No cabbage white or tortoiseshell will visit these roguish
summer remnants;
the first frost will finish them soon enough—
smiting their tender leaves and stems to...
#fall
#summer
#winter
29 reads
2 Comments
Mid six week summer break
I wake, early,
to the dawn chorus coda, an oriole calling as a flute,
while I lay on my pillow,
an ivory mountain.
It’s August, middle of the six week schooling break,
and the day’s horizon shimmer beckons with sweet breath.
I follow the stream, where Kingfishers glide,
and dragonflies ply the sparkling water lanes.
to the dawn chorus coda, an oriole calling as a flute,
while I lay on my pillow,
an ivory mountain.
It’s August, middle of the six week schooling break,
and the day’s horizon shimmer beckons with sweet breath.
I follow the stream, where Kingfishers glide,
and dragonflies ply the sparkling water lanes.
#memories
#nostalgia
#school #summer
#school #summer
55 reads
4 Comments
Sole Imprints
On the deserted, unspoiled beach, I saw delicate
depressions in the sand, pacing alongside mine.
Wondering at those empty imprints of toe and sole,
I dared to match their easy step.
I asked the sky, the clouds, sea, and rocks for meaning
and understanding, of the tracks in which I fitted my feet.
In the cloud of unknowing, rolling from The Sea, I learned,
not by degrees, but through warm gnosis,
to espouse the anima by my side, delicate as
iron beneath her veil, twisting bone-lace through...
depressions in the sand, pacing alongside mine.
Wondering at those empty imprints of toe and sole,
I dared to match their easy step.
I asked the sky, the clouds, sea, and rocks for meaning
and understanding, of the tracks in which I fitted my feet.
In the cloud of unknowing, rolling from The Sea, I learned,
not by degrees, but through warm gnosis,
to espouse the anima by my side, delicate as
iron beneath her veil, twisting bone-lace through...
#love
#SelfDiscovery
#spiritual
90 reads
10 Comments
Alien
It’s a seed sprouting,
a cold plant, spreading like a misty
forget-me-not.
When the familiar becomes thin, veiled
without colour or substance.
Far-off, disconnected,
as if I had been transported, between
blinks, to a pale Andromedean planet
with unfathomable languages and unrecognisable shapes.
The grass is green, but
not. The sky is blue, but not. The sun shines hot
but with a stony face.
Everything orbits a glowing abyss ,
and distant events and...
a cold plant, spreading like a misty
forget-me-not.
When the familiar becomes thin, veiled
without colour or substance.
Far-off, disconnected,
as if I had been transported, between
blinks, to a pale Andromedean planet
with unfathomable languages and unrecognisable shapes.
The grass is green, but
not. The sky is blue, but not. The sun shines hot
but with a stony face.
Everything orbits a glowing abyss ,
and distant events and...
#bittersweet
#memories
#nostalgia #separation
#nostalgia #separation
60 reads
6 Comments
On slicing a Kiwi Fruit
Like cracking a pebble and finding a fossil —
that no eyes have ever seen
there you were, unexpected —
a little green face gazing,
from the kitchen worktop.
My heart sighed,
seeing your pip eyes, beady, staring
knowing nothing of shape or colour;
Breakfast waited, while I stood
blinking at this sudden kiwi-creature,
tiny flat Martian,
helpless as a planet
without a mothering star;
I cradled you in my palm.
Silent
without whimper or wail,
did you exist before the cut? Would you exist ...
that no eyes have ever seen
there you were, unexpected —
a little green face gazing,
from the kitchen worktop.
My heart sighed,
seeing your pip eyes, beady, staring
knowing nothing of shape or colour;
Breakfast waited, while I stood
blinking at this sudden kiwi-creature,
tiny flat Martian,
helpless as a planet
without a mothering star;
I cradled you in my palm.
Silent
without whimper or wail,
did you exist before the cut? Would you exist ...
#childhood
#fairies
#food #magic
#food #magic
67 reads
6 Comments
Neo Wise
Rains dwindle to a stair rod thimble
idle clouds drift, as an empty wind rags
the wilted landscape. In her basin -baked
cake-cracked pond, the shrink-wrapped Toad sleeps
deep. Birds reflect in mirrored silence—brooding.
In the tranquil holiday harbour, where
tawdry lights and turbulent pavement throngs
spill along lines of cafes and arcades,
among smells of chips, ice cream, and beer—
we watch deep clouds accumulating,
building in towering, darkened...
idle clouds drift, as an empty wind rags
the wilted landscape. In her basin -baked
cake-cracked pond, the shrink-wrapped Toad sleeps
deep. Birds reflect in mirrored silence—brooding.
In the tranquil holiday harbour, where
tawdry lights and turbulent pavement throngs
spill along lines of cafes and arcades,
among smells of chips, ice cream, and beer—
we watch deep clouds accumulating,
building in towering, darkened...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
48 reads
3 Comments
The Sign
Don’t be perfunctory, she admonished
make it meaningful —
I watched, as she closed her eyes,
breathed half-heard words:
Hand to her forehead
“Mind - the source of all.”
hand lightly placed on her belly
“Birth via creation”
fingertip touch on each side of her chest
“Mother and Beloved blend and sustain.”
In the dim-lit fire glow,
while the wind moved silent in the trees beyond,
I trembled —
make it meaningful —
I watched, as she closed her eyes,
breathed half-heard words:
Hand to her forehead
“Mind - the source of all.”
hand lightly placed on her belly
“Birth via creation”
fingertip touch on each side of her chest
“Mother and Beloved blend and sustain.”
In the dim-lit fire glow,
while the wind moved silent in the trees beyond,
I trembled —
#prayer
120 reads
6 Comments
Whimsy
I
So cold,
with a diminishing sense of self
my words are lessened, my world
hemmed. Evening rises
and the cold air takes little notice of my clothes,
takes advantage
that I am gloveless. Under a clear sky, with the sound
of the sea in my left, and the mechanical
sea in my right, I begin to see that
it’s not the place, it's just —
II
The joy of a sigh, of wearing
a sigh.
Heigh ho, close riding, far
over moorland, by
the Fell, searching for protecting clouds, ...
So cold,
with a diminishing sense of self
my words are lessened, my world
hemmed. Evening rises
and the cold air takes little notice of my clothes,
takes advantage
that I am gloveless. Under a clear sky, with the sound
of the sea in my left, and the mechanical
sea in my right, I begin to see that
it’s not the place, it's just —
II
The joy of a sigh, of wearing
a sigh.
Heigh ho, close riding, far
over moorland, by
the Fell, searching for protecting clouds, ...
#emptiness
#SelfDiscovery
#SelfReflection
118 reads
2 Comments
Love’s Cocktail
This lemon wedge,
floating in gin and angostura bitters.
Three words at the thin end —
and a wedding ring at the rind. Parched,
in Saharan dunes, by a calling sea,
refreshing rain, pours
rivulets streaming down the panes
of the cold glassed hot-house where I lie,
locked and shrivelled.
The brazen sun beats
while my panting tongue —
lolls.
floating in gin and angostura bitters.
Three words at the thin end —
and a wedding ring at the rind. Parched,
in Saharan dunes, by a calling sea,
refreshing rain, pours
rivulets streaming down the panes
of the cold glassed hot-house where I lie,
locked and shrivelled.
The brazen sun beats
while my panting tongue —
lolls.
#bittersweet
#emptiness
#frustration
#loneliness
#regret
142 reads
4 Comments
Sunday Night
In hot,
clean water, almost
floating, I desire to drift
on mounting clouds, rivers, dunes
and rolling summer storms.
Fragments of poems drift by,
autumnal leaves, or seagulls and crows flying in the leafless air.
I watch them as they drift, silently
mouthing their syllables, and then
like curls of breath on a frosty playground, they’re gone —
Time ticks, and the body protests
with wrinkled fingers and trickles of sweat.
clean water, almost
floating, I desire to drift
on mounting clouds, rivers, dunes
and rolling summer storms.
Fragments of poems drift by,
autumnal leaves, or seagulls and crows flying in the leafless air.
I watch them as they drift, silently
mouthing their syllables, and then
like curls of breath on a frosty playground, they’re gone —
Time ticks, and the body protests
with wrinkled fingers and trickles of sweat.
#meditation
#philosophical
#SelfReflection
115 reads
4 Comments
Silent
The sea is silent, tonight. Of course
the sky is silent, still
stars beyond a cloudy smear. Yesterday
I saw a pinprick sailing by, too fast
for a plane, too steady
to be a shooting star — a true astro nauta.
Lyrical stars, searing heat, thinned
by cold distance, twisting rulers
and clocks. Cold
distance.
The mind is not such a quiet place.
It's machinations pin my body to the board of my bed, like —
a brimstone butterfly, pinned into its case,
a summer ghost dreaming
of poppy peppered wheat fields....
the sky is silent, still
stars beyond a cloudy smear. Yesterday
I saw a pinprick sailing by, too fast
for a plane, too steady
to be a shooting star — a true astro nauta.
Lyrical stars, searing heat, thinned
by cold distance, twisting rulers
and clocks. Cold
distance.
The mind is not such a quiet place.
It's machinations pin my body to the board of my bed, like —
a brimstone butterfly, pinned into its case,
a summer ghost dreaming
of poppy peppered wheat fields....
#sadness
#regret
#loneliness
#emptiness
#bittersweet
172 reads
2 Comments
White lines and asphalt
I felt it yesterday evening,
standing at the edge of the village.
No cars, no people, no sun -
no interesting clouds.
An empty chill
as creeps from Summer’s far edge,
when bonfires burn
and leaves turn to blue smoke curls.
A curlew call would not be out of place
in the wide, airy stillness,
magnified with the distant hushed rush
of unknown travellers.
It was like a condensation of forgotten memories
from long, long ago
superimposed on the road.
I felt a question, unspoken words
from...
standing at the edge of the village.
No cars, no people, no sun -
no interesting clouds.
An empty chill
as creeps from Summer’s far edge,
when bonfires burn
and leaves turn to blue smoke curls.
A curlew call would not be out of place
in the wide, airy stillness,
magnified with the distant hushed rush
of unknown travellers.
It was like a condensation of forgotten memories
from long, long ago
superimposed on the road.
I felt a question, unspoken words
from...
#memories
#emptiness
#SelfDiscovery #choices
#SelfDiscovery #choices
182 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by SeaCat