A Braid Of Blue Horizon

Fragrant scents linger still
on light wind;
across the mill
Speaking to the trees
whispers softly spoke,
Between visions of gold;
lies Calla-Lilies
Trumpet shaped
paper-like bulbs
Painted in oil strokes,
Across Western Isles,
a braid of blue horizon
A hazy day unfolds
The hours between us;
filled with wordless minutes –
seconds slip
through our fingers
No matter how we cling
The silent sea
and the land moans sweetly
Words fail our sensibilities,
Disentangled by the strings that cast
and bind our hearts
Our senses curve above the sun,
The clouds a husky front –
The sound of silence
Speaks to us,
In the garden of our dreams.

@ J.CALVERT 2017

Photography courtesy of Pinterest

Cats Paw 

Who where you in my dreams 

I was the symmetric shape 

Of stems  

And smoking pipes,

A ornamental lilac 


singular beauty  

A touch-me-not

between fingertips 

And open ended sentences 

All vying to be heard. 
Who were you in my dreams?

You were the shadows 

across the moorlands 

The winds breath, 

a cats paw gently taping on the 

waters edge 

A poisonous look-a-like creeping 

through the fence

All vying to be heard. 

In a dream 

We were. 

J.Calvert 2017 

Photograph one: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/258957047299286025/

Photograph two: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/258957047299286025/

Melted Tallow

The edges of the paper


loosely twisted cord

smouldering in the dark

melted tallow

and vanilla plum

the heat overcomes

the smoked-filled room

washes down her throat

shadowing windpipes

suffocating her lungs

sickly-sweet intoxication

the script melts

ink and promises  

dissolve into night

black smoke left hovering


the words of her lover


the oil lamp burns on.