From tiny beginnings to oceans I discovered the world in words

Archive for October, 2015

Short Migration

It was Sunday morning

at the hour of dog walks

and paper shops.

I saw yellow leaves

falling from the ash.

Dancing in migration

towards earth.


Unflickering flames

gathered in their rest,

giving up life source

for reincarnation,

when the sap rises

and swallows return.


News in Tesco bags

accompany people

on a return journey

to their day off lounge.

Dogs on a circular route

with lead, ash twig and ball

are not so eager, to end

the twice daily trip.


Elaine Morris (c) October 2015.


My first pamphlet released to coincide with National Poetry Day 2015.


Laurel’s Light ( for Nat. Poetry Day)

Laurel’s Light.


Light reflects from the laurel hedge in the sun.

On the garden table, spread with gingham cloth,

summer afternoon tea awaits it’s guests,

home made lemonade glints in the crystal glass.

Farther down the path, washing blows in the breeze

absorbing that line dried freshness we all love.


Light reflects on the laurel hedge in the rain,

splashes in the bird bath beckoning the blackbird.

trees and flowers nod while bird feeders sway.

Only the goldfinch seem to feed in a shower.

Grey clouds scud across the sky in puddles

and silhouetted trees quiver on the surface.


Light reflects on the laurel hedge in the wind.

Ever changing places, an ever moving scene,

fanning the shadow where the old bench sits.

Rose petals scatter, scent carries on

taking memories on a trip through life

while autumn’s fallen leaves dance in the air.


Light reflects on the laurel hedge in the cold,

frosted tips glisten, crystalised as sugar.

The robin sits on the old bench singing,

her red breast a symbol of warmth in her heart.

Sparkling icicles hang from the shed roof.

Most trees are bare, but not my evergreen.


Light reflects from the laurel hedge every day,

stalwart and strong throughout the winds of time,

sheltering the privacy of my own space.

There the little buddha sits on a rock

waiting for the light to change but never end,

always returning with a new day’s dawn.


Elaine Morris (c) October 2015.

October Sedoka



Beyond five bar gate,

now seven, rusting, no wood,

views doubled in reflection,

walking the tow path,

bronzed leaves travel beside me.

I saunter at the same speed.




Evening air is still.

Although the light is fading

I cannot see the sunset.

A thin veil of cloud

covers the crick in my neck.

Just now the sky’s unchanging.


Elaine Morris (c) October 2015.

The Last September Smiles.




setting sun

fires the sky.

I breathe cooler air.





Feathered topped

pampas grass

reaches high.


Vapour trails

spear across

afternoon sky.


Drawing kisses.



Haibun (prose poem followed by a haiku).


I watched the sun go to bed tonight,

in her golden nightdress,

slipping down beneath

the earth’s patchwork quilt.

I knew, for a while,

that she was still awake,

the clouds and sky were shades

of salmon pink and brilliant orange.

When she slowly drifted off to sleep,

trees were stencilled in black

against the fading sky.


Somewhere dawn breaks-

but for us in darkness, it’s

time to say goodnight.


Elaine Morris (c) September 2015.

Tag Cloud