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Readers Write Distant Dialogue


When the moor talks I listen and the voice of her chimes in me embracing rhythms of nature She says, “Cast your eyes to the distance see my wilderness in its perfect form, let me hold you bound by my symmetry”.


In my youth I took her hand, she has never let it go.


With contours of land she dares, conjuring and setting moods that only she can raise.


In every step there is history whispering sweet poetry to me. I say “Let me chronicle the words only you can impress upon the pages of my mind, for where you lie is at the very heart.


You are my lover, my teacher, my family, land of my ancestors, whenever you so call I will come”.


The Commuter


Light plays on the river, touches the pebbles,


handles their wetness beneath the shade, I can hear their drowning.


Pewter shadows zigzag, flipping their underbellies silvered by the moon.


Ripples glisten above the shadows’ lightening twists. Their tails betray them.


Stop the world and let me glance as in a trance at nature - Stop the world and let me see the rivers running rapidly the oceans deep the forests thick


the jungles full to the brim.


Stop the world and let me glance the magnificent tiger before he expires the great blue whale before he retires.


Wendy I Yelland


Why am I not scared? Why am I not scared?


Because there is nothing to fear. Why has the world gone silent? Because there is nothing to hear. Why are there people to save us? Because our fate lies in their hands. Why is there so much confusion? Because we cannot understand. Why is there beauty in simplicity? Because there is power in what’s pure. Why do the stars shimmer brightly? Because normality makes you secure. Why is there light in the dark? Because you hold hope in your heart. Why is there warmth in the cold? Because we are never apart. Why has my life left the shadows? Because I am holding you near. Why am I not scared?


Because there is nothing to fear.


Stop the world and let me see wild deer running free the albatross with his loyal mate this and more will I gladly celebrate.


Vanessa Rundle 30 The DIARY, JULY-AUG, 2013


Beverley Beck


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