Big Triku ‘The River’

Gradual hidden

mass scouring rocks – strong sunlight

flashing over black.


The world gently bends around

the silent water, my energy

draining down to the darkness.


Delicate branching

fractals crossing land, pouring

softly to the sea.


Note: this poem is a spin off concept from the poem ‘Swept Away’ (Menu, 2018, Poems, Swept Away)

Big Triku ‘My Carriage’

The future need not

be helplessly drawn, as the

past charges ahead.


I made these spinning wheels, sped

them with Regret. I set it free, off

in a whinnying canter.


Horizons unfold

all round. I turn to look, then

place my first next step.

Big Triku ‘Half-Turn’

I shall rise, and leave

before the sun, returning

once its light is done.


Many years have passed me by

since last I ventured out this way to

feel each moment of a day.


When evening comes, I

shall rest, stars twinkling bright, as

the owl leaves its nest.

Big Triku ‘Travesty’

We have a pot hole,

so it’s true; I’ve heard of them –

some have quite a few.


Send a team of twenty now,

before this hole starts spreading, before

we face a gaping monster.


What have things come to?

When something happens like this?

To disrupt our bliss?

Standing Up Again

Note: the poem in this post is the same as in the last post from early this morning – the difference is the photo; I went to the location that is the main setting of the poem and took this photo today, under the tree; whereas the previous photo, which I also like, is the beach on the coast in front, where the breeze brushes around the rocks and ‘vraic’ (a Channel Islands term for seaweed). This post shows both of these photos 🙂

I’m sorry that I lost my way

to end up here, beneath this tree,

its withered branches reaching low

to touch the ground, and shelter me.


Bracken wavers in the breeze,

that blew across the bay, below;

that brushed around the rocks, and vraic;

that found – past land – its upward flow.


A small seed traces through my gaze,

bobbing round, a spectre borne

in secret air; I watch it each

way torn, now trapped upon a thorn.


A bee appears, darts directly

to the wind, shoots up high,

and joins in currents of the air

to vanish quickly in the sky.


The wind now breaks inside my den

and rushes coldly through my heart,

I know the time is come for me

to let my foolish worries part.


With so much good, why should I fear

I’ll helplessly be drawn away?

I’ll choose my mind and set my course and

live, still better, every day.