Sunday, 28 December 2014
Martin's spoon traced the figures of ancient China etched in the landscape of the blue willow plate of breakfast cereal. A thought scurried across his mind. ‘One day I will go there’.
He paused for a moment, to catch the morning sunlight filtering through the laced curtain and turned to his aunt standing by the stove.
' Auntie , please, please may I leave the table?'
An approving wink set him free.
Posted by Mervyn at 10:45
Saturday, 1 November 2014
Saturday, 25 October 2014
We sat on Sundays, high up by the roots of the knobbled beech tree, careful not to get our Sunday best worse. The castle hung in the distance, anchored by pristine lawns that glistened in the early morning sun. That held the castle a distant nirvana. Untouchable,unreachable. Shuttered blinds that guarded the Major’s privacy.
We were more interested in what went on below. The Moyola , it's honey browned waters burbling blindly over the weir, fattened by the rains of late Autumn. Gorged on leaves from falling foliage, the swirl and foam all working together at the edge of the weir.
It's razor sharp edge awaiting. We watched with all the uneasiness of Sunday,s service children mumbling prayers and humming hymns. Restless on uncomfortable bums.
Posted by Mervyn at 12:37
Friday, 26 September 2014
Saturday, 13 September 2014
Thursday, 7 August 2014
Sunday, 11 May 2014
Un momento sol
Un momento tormenta
Hay un viento que lleva puesta etiqueta
Y hay la primavera como un adolescente
Buscando sus límites
Para dejar su rastro
© Bellaco 2014 'dedicado a OC'
Posted by Mervyn at 04:32
Tuesday, 6 May 2014
|The Rock Heads & Mussenden Temple in the distance|
The farm to which this poem relates is a mile to the West of the Mussenden Temple (main blog picture above) we called it the Rock Heads.
They said you could see Scotland
On a clear day from the Rock Heads
I saw a patchwork of fields
Where men and machines toiled till dusk
And uncles told tales of the one that got away
Posted by Mervyn at 02:08