Wendy Gent
Poems She Liked
The news I’m expecting comes through a crackly line. Except we don’t have phone lines now do we? It’s so irritating, couldn’t they fix our reception issues for this call? Then again, perhaps it’s fitting to be stood outside in the cold where it’s less claustrophobic. Early spring, the rain is freezing, and the wind is brutal. The daisies on the lawn have closed their petals to the world and I want to do likewise.
After the call a bitter chill masks my pain, it’s distracting. A van is making a delivery to our neighbours. It seems so wrong, surely everything should stop, a five-minute freeze? Why are clouds still moving, birds still chirping?
wren song
all the notes
of yesterday
Over the weeks we’ll shuffle around, filling the gap left by Alex, one less of us, a hole, a void to be occupied. Our silhouettes will subtly change even though we look the same.
twilight
a final goodbye
the palette shifts
to black and white
only our shadows touch
It’s nighttime, but sleep doesn’t come. Light peeps through the blinds, shapes are formed by the pale colours of dawn. The ebb and flow of our earth carries on, despite my grief. Perhaps there’s comfort to be found in following daily routines, slowing down, going outside, letting nature soothe me. Anyway, that’s what I do, it’s what we all do.
hush
it’s rain
on dry leaves
I take a stroll, staring at my feet, holding steady, hoping to avoid humans. For the briefest of moments, today seems like any other. Wildflowers thrive around here, albeit fleetingly. Bluebells and forget-me-nots are in their prime along the verges. A very tranquil scene, in sharp contrast to the area’s industrial roots. The path once housed “fish belly” rails, only a few of which remain. They were used to shunt “black diamonds” from local mines to the river Avon. The track was the last of its kind, out of date almost immediately with the advent of steam. Equines still traverse this route but these days enjoy a more leisurely lifestyle.
smooth, coloured jewels
grey, rough-edged stones
we never know
how our years will shape up…
pebbles on a beach
About the Author
Wendy Gent started writing haiku and tanka about three years ago following retirement from her job in financial services. She is fairly new to haibun/tanka prose and hopes to write more. Wendy lives in South Gloucestershire, UK.