Orange Blossom

Scattered they fall like shreds
of discarded tissues,
white but spoiled.

Gales retrieve them, caress them,
promise comfort.

Energised they fly,
suspended for a time
in complacent glory.

Last Orders 1989

Fag-smoke rises over
a near-empty glass.

No heed is taken
of unwanted chimes

in the calm lanes of
lost respect.

Windy Day in a Churchyard

Graveyard grasses roll and sway. As though
the dead are wandering
beneath their green blanket.

When the wind stops, their mounds
settle.  The problem is, it can never be certain
where  they’ll remain.


Haiku
Tunes from my Cement Piano

My fingers pace the
keyboard. I play but the air
is still with silence.

Andrea Bowd

If you have any comments on these poems, Andrea Bowd would be pleased to hear from you.