Tin Horse

A horse
made of tin
lay baking
in the sun
beside the outhouse,
mama’s wine glass
resting on the gravel
where she left it last
glistened in the heat
my eyes sore
from the lemon-grass trees
pine needles prick
the back of my feet
my nostrils flare with dust
black sheep
red dog licking at my feet
all around
blend with dirt
like roots to the earth,
crows to pick their bones
Papas skin
sleep he does not know
call to the blue bells bush,
The horizon beacons across
the remote
like western light touching
the window pane,
in quiet isolation
This is where I call home.


Amazon Queen – Revised

The sky sleeps

 in the soft flow of night

The wind whispers under a cloak 

of black and gold,

She glitters below the leaves, 

 of broad-leaved evergreens 

Above the canopy, rain falls

Of turquoise hues 

and silky moss 

faerie orchids stalk

Her heart line like an exotic 


Etched, deeply profound

A kapok, 

tendrils strangling its host,

leaving behind a haunted fig 

A ghostly fog –
Sensually, night slips into dawn

Burnt orange 


She, the protector

of all that are gone

Singing a warrior song – 

Dazzling Queen of the Amazon.

Words J.Calvert written 2016, revised 2017. 

Winter’s Final Note-Revised

Winters Final Note In sleet and snow the land stretched below and the cold earth moaned a mournful cry The skies overhead bleed in white – drops fall beneath a sinking sky, harrowing unspoken sighs Running rivers rest in silver … Continue reading

Ruffled Wings


I’ll undo the little threads
Fitted to my skin
Unfold each softly twined strand,
Let my wings reside in flutter
Behind my shoulders
In shades of copper
trimmed with gold
The scent of lilies float,
over a pond of fronds
and branches fold
under slippers wove in silk
and ribbon ties loop
Ruffled wings
Of feathers and plumes
In tangled array
Tethering me to this place
Like draperies unbridled
To reveal
The gentle pleats of flight.


Vintage Stones and Flowers Bent

I went AWOL
For a while
Lost in the clouds
Under feathers of plush-downs
Quills and spines,
and buried beneath
a tree
and vintage stones
and flowers bent and overgrown,
It was a blissful place
of undergrowth,
Where I visualised myself
floating softly in a pond of peace,
It was soothing and calming
and my mind was at rest
But here I am
back with my thoughts stirred.