A Selection of original Poems

First love
(or Dancing in the Dark)

Dark-blue velvet summer night,
the smiling opalescent moon
paints pools of light 
beneath the trees        
and shimmers on the water,
making the slow and languid river
a silver pathway
to forever...

Twinkling like stars
the fireflies flit
and flicker,
playing their merry game
of hide-and-seek
with one another.

Music wafts softly, gently,
through the air, 
and I am in your arms, 
still unaware
of how this night
will linger through the years -
the summer magic
of us dancing,
you and I, 
under a sparkling
phosphorescent moon
in a star-filled
midnight sky. .

Smoke

Smoke...
smell of soot in your nostrils,
a smoke-stack Armada
billowing through town.

Smoke...
sound of clogs on the pavement,
warm Lancashire voices
echoing all around.

The coal-yard, the sidings,
the pub and the chapel,
the chip-shop, the cake-shop, 
the rattling tram;
the cobbles, the mill-gate, 
and Grandpa's allotment,
the fairground, the market, 
flour-cakes with boiled ham.

Smoke...
from the coal in the fireplace,
warming the room
at the end of the day.

Smoke...
in the glow of my firelight,
warm in my heart
from that far yesterday...

© Dorothy Lees-Blakey 1997

Published in:
Writers Undercover 
(Cambridge Writers' Collective) Vol. IV (1997)

© Dorothy Lees-Blakey 1996

Published in:
Writers Undercover 
(Cambridge Writers' Collective) Vol. III (1996)  

Reverie

Sunlight
 beneath dark trees
  shines like bright moonlight
   on the water
    motionless by the lake
     a heron stands
      and waits
       watching for fish to jump
        and waiting
         waiting...
A slight breeze
 stirs the leaves
  grass rustles softly beside me
   insistent crickets call
    I stand alone
     not lonely
      watching and waiting
       for the sun to set
        and for day to become 
         night...
A sudden stillness falls
 as blue mist swirls around me
  vermilion-red
   the lake
    mirrors the fire
     of sunset
      and high in the purple sky
       the silver-sliver moon
        watches and waits
         for night
          and smiling like me
           remembers...

© Dorothy Lees-Blakey 1998

Published in:
Writers Undercover 
(Cambridge Writers' Collective) Vol. V (1998)

Sounds of Silence

There's a cat on the back porch now...

Once there were children
With high piping voices,
And laughter rang out
In the sun,

Crisp winter mornings
With snow on the porch steps,
Gold summer evenings,
long gone.

The rocking chair creaks still,
Just as it used to,
Like the swing on the old
Apple tree,

But only the wind
Wanders gently around them, 
The ghosts that still play
Silently.

No-one remembers,
No-one can see them,
No-one can hear, 
Yet somehow
Somebody knows,
Someone is waiting:

There's a cat on the back porch now...

Losing Battle

I never thought of this -
this slow death creeping on:
a sinister shadow closing in
and pinning you in a corner
where there's no escape,
nowhere to run to,
no strength for running anyway.

All you can do is wait
for fate's inevitable finger
touching upon your shoulder,
pausing awhile,
then pulling you lifeless
into nothingness.

I wish ten thousand times
it could be swift
instead of slow -
a sudden loss of breath
and then goodbye.
You wouldn't know
the agony of death, 
the pain of parting.
Love, it hurts me so
watching you slowly die...

© 1995 Dorothy Lees-Blakey 

Published in:
Writers Undercover 
(Cambridge Writers' Collective) Vol. II (1995)

© 1995 Dorothy Lees-Blakey

Published in:
Writers Undercover 
(Cambridge Writers' Collective) Vol. II (1995)