READERS WRITE If Life Was A Colour
If your life was a colour, that colour is blue Your world’s like a star that crashed into the moon You’re haunted, you shake and you look really scared You could let yourself love me if only you dared
If my life was a colour, that colour is pink My world’s like a star that twinkles and winks You touched my hand so I gave you my heart And I let myself love you, from you I won’t part
If your life was a colour, that colour is grey Your rainbow has ended and faded away Your own shadow left you, no more could it take You could let yourself love me if you weren’t full of hate
If my life was a colour, that colour is yellow My rainbow begins and feels calming and mellow
My shadow is running to keep up with me And I let myself love you, with you I will be
If your life was a colour, that colour is black Your ocean turned stormy, your sky became cracked
Soft snow turned to ice as it fell on your face You could let yourself love me, but it all went to waste
If my life was a colour, that colour is peach My ocean shines silver, gold sand on my beach The snow melts my heart as I catch sight of you And I let myself love you because I never knew
Vanessa Rundle
Nature’s Kiss The rain pitter patters On the window pane The spider spins her web Each with a rhythm and certainty Of what lies ahead.
Gossamer threads Cradle the raindrops Allowing light to bounce From their midst. Each tiny pearl a reflection Of nature’s kiss.
Beverley Beck
The Buttercups of Bellever
Delicate petals impress, drinking the water of contentment
Fresh their looks, not like books. These Kings of the forest hold their chalice Towards the splatter and pitter-patter of the flood.
Daisy heads droop whilst ferns sprout and voices shout I am alive.
My body pushes into the spongy grass Leaving patterns where my spirit touches The earth. The latch is lifted, the knot untied The gate left ajar.
A tree, is a tree, is a tree, but no, each one An individual of purpose. As I sit riding out the torrent I breathe the notes of green, Smell the grass, hear the trees whose Conversation is of strength and peace, Echoing leaves who drip, drip, drip Their message upon the soil. Branches balance their action.
Beverley Beck
30
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32