Orphans of Summer

Orphaned shoots of summer’s fullness

Sway high in January’s blue

Like gifted children graced with wisdom

Defying winter’s hidden fury

Escaping falsely changing hue

Against the black we could not see you

Yet, dancing in the violent storm

Your gentle tips flowed round the deluge

Untouched by night’s electric harm

A younger magic, bold and warm

But, come the day when icy winter

Bows to brightening of the morn

And deep in earth green thirst awakens

Then screaming “Life” the upstretched fingers

Become the first to catch the dawn

©Stephen Tanham

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Here sits the poet, lost in rapture…

Photo of a 'poet's bench' on Lake Windermere

By wind and mere and rippled flow

And water’s mirror, sunlight’s glow

To farther hills whose skin embraces

Touching sky with changing faces

Who sees the round but loves the whole

And wrestles with that spirit’s capture

Here sits the poet, lost in rapture

©️Stephen Tanham


Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

The Mind Tree

It’s little more than a hillock

A green slope, with mist

Until the sky rips open

And something unseen

Reaches down

To ink a drawing of

The possible

Then mind, seizing itself

Creates the living tree

©️Stephen Tanham


Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find a personal path to a deeper place within their internal and external lives.

The Silent Eye provides home-based, practical courses which are low-cost and personally supervised. The course materials and corresponding supervision are provided month by month without further commitment.

Steve’s personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com.

You’ll find friends, poetry, literature and photography there…and some great guest posts on related topics.

Formidable stone

Formidable OnceAA

Formidable, once:

Within this place was safety born

Exchanged for fealty, price of stones

That made these walls and saved your bones

⦿

Tracks in the sand:

The beach on which you walk your dog

Is wet where bishops splashed ashore

The highway of the sea a grateful, distant roar

⦿

Oak-panelled door:

Beneath which we pass in droves

A portal – then – to smells of meat and seat

For those who of this rank would proudly meet

⦿

But not for you nor I:

From simple huts of wood and earth

Our forebears gazed on castle keep

Unaware of centuries’ deadly creep

⦿

Tamed, exhibited now:

Its heavy stone enduring still

But only that; the purpose and the head are fled

To southern climes where power is better bred…

⦿

©️Stephen Tanham

Photo by author: Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland.

 

The Writing Shed

Will I write in here as snows arrive

Locked eyes and fingers frenzied?

Imagined places, chattering teeth

With windows needing mended

Or will the soft and ancient chair

Seduce me in the corner?

To doze and dream-up worlds galore

While Spring drifts by in wonder

But it’s unlikely that this shed

Will grace me with it’s favours

The ancient box: creative pride

Belongs to next door neighbours

©Stephen Tanham

Cube and rum

♣️

Cube and rum

Sophisticated fun

The night beyond

The story spun

♦️

A teasing touch

Don’t reach too much

And spoil the fun

Dangled, loved one

♠️

A shiver, a shudder

Still laughter down under

Nail follows bone

Taut flesh coming home

♥️

Recently bold

Softly nestle and hold

A different kiss shared

Bliss sought and bared

🍸

©Stephen Tanham

On these days

On Days thisAAFinal

On this day

A meagre seven years ago

I woke to find you gone

A day premature

Just the nursing angel in your hand

The phone receiver in mine

Now, at these times

I picture you in your old shop

Happy to leave your kitchen

For shop’s bell, whose call

To seek but not always to find

Mattered little, but sharing chat did

Then, happier, returning to your TV

On these days

I miss you most

The simple routine of your day

Grown golden in my mind

Only seven years ago

And a million miles away

©Copyright Stephen Tanham