Tag Archives: pantoums

Marion Tracy’s Purple irises

 
 
 
Purple irises
 
she favoured purple irises for their elegant shadows
growing under olive trees or on on the banks of streams
bright flags of memory clump and proliferate
in the language of flowers Iris means eloquence
 
growing under olive trees or on the banks of streams
how easily concealment becomes second nature
in the language of flowers Iris means eloquence
words we never had time to unwrap
 
how easily concealment becomes second nature
flowers in cellophane how she disliked them
words we never had time to unwrap
finding them laid out with the others in the churchyard
 
flowers in cellophane how she disliked them
the scent like violets insubstantial but lingering
finding them laid out with the others in the churchyard
I bent and touched her face
 
the scent like violets insubstantial but lingering
bright flags of memory clump and proliferate
I bent and touched her face
she favoured purple irises for their elegant shadows
 
 
Read Marion’s poetry at poetry p f.
 
 
 

Wendy Webb’s ‘Nursing Creature of the Deep’

  
 
Wendy Webb is widely published in the United Kingdom and has won several competitions. She is a prolific writer, using both traditional and modern forms. Editor of Tips for Writers (bi-monthly) and eTIPS (a montly ezine), she also publishes anthologies for Norfolk Poets & Writers. She has devised a number of new poetry forms including the Davidian, Magi and Palindromedary Sonnets. She currently has five blogs and her published collections include a series of Mermaid Tales.
 
 
 
Nursing Creature of the Deep
 
My infant son was dead before he breathed,
a fish forever in a sea of sand.
As lifeless as the ocean his stars seethed,
so beach him in a boat without a land.
 
A fish forever in a sea of sand,
he trod no shifting dunes, if dunes mean days.
So beach him in a boat without a land;
his wreck no more since parent duty pays.
 
He trod no shifting dunes, if dunes mean days,
his hour-glass breathes in heaven, ours on earth;
his wreck no more since parent duty pays
into a milky paradise of birth.
 
His hour-glass breathes in heaven, ours on earth;
as lifeless as the ocean his stars seethed
into a milky paradise of birth.
My infant son was dead before he breathed.
 
 
First prize, Pantoum Competition, Writing Magazine
 
 
To order a copy of Nursing Creature of the Deep
email Wendy at wmwordsworth1850-tips@yahoo.co.uk.
 
Visit Tips for Writers.
 
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