In A Certain Light (Poetry)
30th June 2024
[Note: Entered for the Red Shed Poetry Competition 2024. This poem was long-listed and subsequently published in Orbis Quarterly International Literary Journal issue 208 – Summer 2024.]
In a certain light
all things seem possible
the armchair becomes
a sleeping dragon
the curtain opens to reveal
a perfect garden
where great golden lilies blow
in a warm wind
The soundtrack here
is a gentle background noise
not the roar of an aggressive world
that beats upon the ear
like drums of war
instead there filters through
a soothing undulating hum
of drowsy bees content
their long day of pollen-gathering
is done
No harshness anywhere
no clash of colour for the sun’s benign
in how it spreads its rays
blending, softening life’s edges
until there’s only beauty
perceived in every line
Angled light through trees
suggests a dance of shadows
waltzing in slow motion
such tiny steps precise
in keeping time to music
that’s older than the druids can recall
Sundown. The day’s main feature ends
sky’s noiseless shutters pulled across
don’t stop the peeping stars
their sprinkled magic sparks
another fantasy
of climbing on a lemonslice of moon
and riding through the chessboard fields
all glow-worm-lit
like aisles of night’s whimsical cathedral
the sighing breeze its choir
In a certain light
things appear quite differently
become who or what they might be
seen through imagination’s inner eye
owls cry low their pagan prayers
and nightwings glimmer
shake pale dream-spun angel feathers free
pretending to be snow
In a certain light
all things seem possible
the armchair becomes
a sleeping dragon
the curtain opens to reveal
a perfect garden
where great golden lilies blow
in a warm wind
The soundtrack here
is a gentle background noise
not the roar of an aggressive world
that beats upon the ear
like drums of war
instead there filters through
a soothing undulating hum
of drowsy bees content
their long day of pollen-gathering
is done
No harshness anywhere
no clash of colour for the sun’s benign
in how it spreads its rays
blending, softening life’s edges
until there’s only beauty
perceived in every line
Angled light through trees
suggests a dance of shadows
waltzing in slow motion
such tiny steps precise
in keeping time to music
that’s older than the druids can recall
Sundown. The day’s main feature ends
sky’s noiseless shutters pulled across
don’t stop the peeping stars
their sprinkled magic sparks
another fantasy
of climbing on a lemonslice of moon
and riding through the chessboard fields
all glow-worm-lit
like aisles of night’s whimsical cathedral
the sighing breeze its choir
In a certain light
things appear quite differently
become who or what they might be
seen through imagination’s inner eye
owls cry low their pagan prayers
and nightwings glimmer
shake pale dream-spun angel feathers free
pretending to be snow