Colours, back in France and blessings

Here I am back at the cottage – it has been ages since I wrote anything for my one, or is it maybe three or four, followers to read. I have been too busy reading what everyone else writes! Maybe not totally quite true – but I have been back in the uk having a wonderful time catching up with my daughters and grandchildren. 

I was surprised at how grey I found Yorkshire this time – what a lack of colour there was. We obviously just hit on two weeks of dismal days…I am sure it never seemed so cloudy and overcast before – but needless to say it was lovely  to be back there, to see everyone and for those super shops! France could certainly learn a lot from M and S, Sainsbury and East, from Debenhams and Bobbins in Whitby – the list is endless! But I can do without the queues of traffic to get anywhere!

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Here is a lovely hand made lamp we were given and here is the poem it inspired me to write

Emerald Isle

 In the corner of the room

a kindly light

from her handmade lamp

glows green, and verdant pastures

like silky traces of a different life

bathe the air.

 

gently forming shadows whisper

‘where are you?’

Through the hand thrown glass

there is a tang of pines

along a bleak lake shore

‘Come back’ call dark green

mountains of Connemara.

 

Lead on gentle light

memories of times long gone

dance in the shadows where

laden donkeys work

a seaweed strewn shore

and dolphins frolic

in the bay.

 

A warm westerly, heavy with rain

brings a taste of the sea

breathes a stinging spray as

deep green waves murmur

‘come home, come home

and be a child again.’

 

 And back at the cottage I walked the doglet round the well trod little lanes and was assailed by the brightness and the colours – 

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and, almost the best of all, we were back in time to savour the wisteria at the back of the cottage.

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Sometimes, you know, you just have to sit back and count your blessings – a cliché, I know, but nonetheless, important.

and another colour poem – it seems colours are playing a large part in my thinking these days…

Colours

 Blues are a souvenir of sky,

a memory of summer sun

pleasure of sea,  far off horizons

and her eyes

 

greens are the touch

of Connemara in the rain,

verdant grass along a shoreline

distant recollection of a lake

 

grey and white is the silvery

limestone, singing in the wind

of ancient crags

where wild goats run

 

hues that stir an old heart

with youthful joys.

 

 

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “Colours, back in France and blessings”

  1. Lovely poems, Mij. We’re back but we caught the beautiful clear blue skies as we drove over the Derbyshire peaks! Lots of spring colour – including wild daffodils, bouncing lambs and blossoming trees. It’s good to be back home though!

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