Gill Wyatt Faith, Nature, Poetry
Variegated wings that flutter, flushed with summer’s vibrant colour harmonized with vivid veins. Exquisite fibres plucked from skeins, deftly stripped and finely threaded through its splendid silks, then wedded by the hand of pure perfection, as the master makes selection; mixes, blends and gently hones, marrying the tints and tones. Reflected glory from above; In […]
Gill Wyatt Old Age / Memories, Poetry
Your life was there, in photos and momentos, Granddad’s cricket cups and lots of little pots from Blackpool, Brighton, Wales and other far off places. Now there’s only traces of your home, selected pieces here and there, so it doesn’t look bare, or empty. The house is arranged to give the illusion of space […]
Gill Wyatt Old Age / Memories, Poetry
As he grew old he searched his mind for memories that flickered like silent movies or dreams, half-forgotten lurking in mists, his face contorted with the agony of broken recollections, and lost connections. Words clung to the tip of his tongue, lingered too long and faded away. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2011
Gill Wyatt Miscellaneous, Poetry
For a moment, I cared as I stared at the screen, where obscene poverty gazed back limply through glazed eyes, an opaque veil revealing hidden sorrow. Beyond tears, without hope, without help, they die, while you and I give a pittance to relieve our guilt, then sleep, soundly. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2011
Bitter Words cloak my heart sclerosing it. Impeding the flow. Bitter words a noose, tightening its grip, draining life. Bitter words etched in blood, scrawled like graffiti on my soul. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2011
Gill Wyatt Loss and Death, Poetry
My old life is dying, and yet with fading eyes I view it kindly, as voices whisper memories from afar that cling to the comfort of the past, fearful of the new. I linger; then with a final laboured breath I leave, burying fear. Cautiously excited. Resurrecting hope. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2011
Gill Wyatt Miscellaneous, Poetry
Did anyone ask the shepherd if he wanted to be a king? Did he know the implications when his brothers called him in, and anointing oil ran down his face dripping from his chin? Did he even think that one day he’d be dressed in royal robes and a crown, to weigh him down with […]
Gill Wyatt Faith, Journeying, Nature, Poetry
Alone, it grows wild and wilful, in need of a skilful hand, to prune a little here and there, not strip it bare, but trim the growth and clip the shoots then let it rest to help it fruit. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2010
Gill Wyatt Miscellaneous, Poetry
This claustrophobic journey hems me in. Incessant noise scrabbles at my mind, as I, and this train speed through fields. Fleetingly I catch a glimpse of life, measured in acres, where the sky is still and wisps of wind flutter in the trees, and I, I would be free, on the other side of the […]
When the veil of morning mists is lifted, a second dawn awakens life as streams of light and muted, muffled sound expand to fill the void, and nature rouses from its sleep. Copyright © Gill Wyatt 2010
