On this site, I hope to reach potential writers, happy readers and entertain and inform those of us who love to write. Just as a taster here is a sonnet to the wind:
Branches up high that bend with the wind
That catch a voice and pass it on
A Chinese whisper, with messages soon gone
A fickle voice sending, hope soon rescinded.
Clouds that gather, that push and tumble
That gossip and gather and tell of their grief
Bank on dark bank as they wail and they shriek
Then quiet descends, their voice just a grumble
The trees shiver lightly, their tears now at bay
And rain sweeps through leaves with nothing to say
A calm voice you hear, nothing left now to fear
The storm has abated, no lies will we hear
And a soft sibilant whisper
Stirs not even a whisker.
I would love to hear your responses and also your contributions.
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