A Few Poems

You Are an Elephant

Raised on four grand columns,
your bulk is as much as
seventy-five monkey-men –
who scatter, respectfully,
and you never apologise.

You put fear into stoutest hearts,
then  get on with your work.
Every day you forage.
Eat much, drink much, wallow,
write poetry.



wings wave
a silver gull
skims the foam

then up
on familiar
urgent currents

perfect in her world
of blue and white
and emerald deeps



Can I see the
curve of the earth?
Do those clouds
touch the sea?

Will the ocean
notice my tears
and rise
a little higher?

A moment’s evaporation
returns the status quo.


Writing a poem is like finding a small bird

looking up your eyes wander and find a tree
seeing nothing but the tree

close your eyes and stop
listen to the silence

a door slams
a dog barks
a bird calls

your mind goes its own way
a dozen things flicker in and out
then leaves rustle and you search

you see a tiny patch of colour so you wait
a part-obscured shape forms in your fond eyes

a word or phrase then written
unlocks the rest


© 2011 Judy Winchester

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