Ribbons and rivers

31.

the tide unravels lace ribbons

sifts through rivers of stones

***

This is the beach across the road from me at a lowish tide. Brighton pier in the distance, beyond millions of stones. It's rare to see low tide sand just here, so it's impossible to ignore the shift of stones beneath your shoes as you walk home.

Watching the sky from the doorstep, hidden eclipse, inky chevrons, rain like scree, men on their knees, oblivion, sun forge, colonnade, wind squalls, promenade, hole in the sky, sunset fire, lone black dog, plastic bag... this beach was the location that inspired so many of January's posts and where so many of you came walking with me.

All of this month's posts were "small stones", tiny pieces which were about paying attention to just one moment. I've always loved writing minimalist pieces, so it's been great to take part in A River of Stones. It's interesting to see how many others come into your awareness once you start looking for them! Hard to forget that stone in your shoe.

Thanks to everyone who has sent comments during January. It's been great to connect with new readers and followers through the project. See you for some more stones soon.

Company

30.

strolling home

followed by a rustling plastic bag

Lone black dog

29.

low tide sand

lone black dog

gallops

on his shadow

Swoop

28.

cliff top bus ride

beside a sunset fire

I want to be the seagull

that swoops to overtake us

Hole in the sky

27.

molten metal

pours through that hole in the sky

steams when it hits the sea

****

I'm so pleased that Fiona Dempster from Paper Ponderings has posted about some of my recent writing in her blog today. You can read her post here.

Thanks Fiona. A x

Tonight

26.

My poems know it's tonight.

They chatter and giggle.

I can't decide which shirt to wear.

***

Big night tonight. My first poetry set. A clutch of poems are jiggling around in me like jumping beans wanting to know when it's time. Guess they are ready.

Not sure about me. I seem to be distracting myself in the smart/casual department, hoping I make my mind up soon.

If you're in Brighton, it would be lovely to see you. Ten poets reading at Red Roaster Coffee House, St, James's Street. 7.45 for 8.00 start. If you're a poet why not bring a poem to read at the open mike? Tonight!!

Wet footprints

25.

wet footprints

promenade

beside you

The best thing about an iPod

24.

that track you never heard before

it makes you stop

and the world falls away

Squalls

23.

wind squalls

graze a frowning sea

hands in pockets

head down

Winter hands

22.

Winter, etched on my hands.

Rough paper.

Driftwood.

Last night's rain

21.

colonnade

palindrome

last night's rain

Sun forge

20.

sun forge behind the pier

iron thicket

forest blaze

Fringe

19.

they pack up the ice rink

leave behind a shallow square lake

fringed with the first snowdrops

Pruning

18.

pruning old roses

wind buffed stems

falling onto stone

sound like dropped pencils

Daffodils

17.

buds push to escape wrappers

optimism on the table

a vase of gathering gold

Caution - horses working

16.

no hilltop training today

but I thought I heard them

their strides thundering out of endless sky

***

Yes, we can see the sky today. I was just up on the hill near home, windswept, wild haired and rosy cheeked. Looking at the blue and NOT being rained on feels like an amazing event. I've been waiting for it all week!

Hope it's a good sky where you are.

By the way, Christine posted the most gorgeous shot of horses on her blog yesterday. Click to take a look.

Stomp

15.

The stomp in that Blues gets you every time.

Too shy to dance,

your feet have started without you.

Listening

14.

My violin sings into the quiet corners of this new home.

The walls lean closer.

Listening.

***

I have a beautiful room to play music in, now that I've moved home.

Each time I play, it's like the instruments are finding their way into the space. The piano sounds a bit inhibited. Needs to settle in a bit. But the violin, used to a life on the road, rushes in like a child who can't wait to check out every nook. The sound rises boldly towards the high ceilings, flourishes and dives around the cornices and smiles, satisfied.

The feel of the room is going to change with every note played here.

Oblivion

13.

opaque wash of mist

paints out the surf

the beach

the traffic

my thoughts

walk into oblivion

Knees

12.

As if in prayer.

Men on their knees.

New carpet for the crazy golf.

Wren

11.

Sweeping leaves.

The dark form of a wren

dives into her hideaway.

Good weekend

10.

Sign of a good weekend.

Muddy boots by the door.

Back stairs

9.

Feet on the back stairs.

Morning gamelan.

***

I know!! I was trying to do this without pictures, letting the words do all the work. Except sometimes, you take a shot that draws your eye and discover that it is perfect for what you were trying to convey.

But you know what? This one is really for your ears!

Linocut

8.

Wet footprints walk down the bus.

Another set overlays.

Linocut pineapples.

Lost needles

7.

Paths of lost needles track the way

to fir and spruce piled high and abandoned

after the holiday.

Rain like scree

6.

the darkest day

rain like scree

the promise of Summer

in ice cream colours

on beach hut doors

Inky chevrons

5.

Inky chevrons doodle on calm seas,

trail from a boat lost in the sun blind

of haloed speckles in my eyes.

***

I just missed the bus yesterday, stood to wait for the next one at the stop across the road looking down at the sea and the sky. And there it was, the lazy calligraphy of a wake emerging from a boat hidden in the white blinding mirror of sun on seas acting like polished metal.

Yellow light angled in from behind towering clouds, their dark purples and blacks hinting at what they held. A few flecks blew onto my arms, tiny sherbet bombs that didn't melt.

The "s" word was on everyone's lips as we rode into town.

Eclipse

4.

Solar eclipse is hidden by clouds.

Last night's candle left a fragrant crescent moon.

Diamond galaxies

3.

on the dark side of the hill

ice hides in furrows

diamond galaxies

crack beneath my feet

***

I was over-dressed yesterday as I went out walking in the first bright day of the year. A gift after too many grey skies.

After 10 minutes, it was huff and puff up the hill. Too long a time since I was last heading to a hilltop. Packing my home into boxes and then shifting them has blanked out a few weeks in my diary.

Twenty strides, stop. Twenty strides, stop. That's how I am on the steepest bits. Hat shoved into my pocket, scarf off, jacket captive around my waist. Too many layers.

I sit at the top, look back over my route back to where home now is, hidden behind other streets. Turf gone to bolt cushions my feet as walk on into the worn out greens and buffs of last year's grasses.

Twig basket

2.

A hint of sun

and twig basket trees

shiver in the chill

to start the applause.

First stone in the river

1.

I'm watching the sky from the doorstep.

The neighbours heave a wide screen tv indoors.

***

Small stones. Little moments. One a day in January. Lots of people taking part. Here's the link to more stones and more info. Enjoy!