Lydia Fulleylove

 

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poet & writer

Poems

Landslip

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The Boy in the Icehouse

Poems & extracts from Estuary
Two Ravens Press, October 2014

9 February

In the Winter Barn

At 81, Malcolm climbed the oak tree

30 December

By the broken jetty

seaweed on pebbles
  sky and clouds

THE BOY IN THE ICEHOUSE

It is Sunday morning-spring.
Rooks insist
in the just turning ash trees.
A lawn away wild garlic
nudges the icehouse.

Inside, lost Tim
slips on the step.
The dark water winks
at the slabbed stone
and the garlic looks in.

Tim's bare toes meet
the cold. He doesn't scream.
The hart's tongue licks
his ankles and the icehouse
dreams of blocks of snow.

Above his damp black curls
the roof extends a cautious
drip and Tim suddenly
feels at home. He freezes.
The icehouse breathes chill joy.

It is Sunday morning-spring.
Rooks insist
in the just turning ash trees.
A lawn away wild garlic
nudges the icehouse.

Lydia Fulleylove


Runner up in Mslexia Poetry Competition 2005: "A poem about being human, about being a writer... Nudges - a verb to die for...".

Selima Hill - Judge

 


© Lydia Fulleylove 2014. Photography Richard Mair, Colin Riches and Jeff Pigott. Website design Jeff Pigott