Black Head

Cat’s black head
peers through cat flap,
I glare back.
Eyes meet.
stalemate.
Not my black cat,
‘Grrrr’ I say.
Cat backs away,
gone in a flash.

Sea

Sea, a grey blanket,
wavelets lapping on the shore,
my eyes gaze and gaze.

Waves

Eyes looking right, left,
all round, playful waves jostle,
my little boat bobs.

Stroboscopic

Driving into town
stroboscopic lighting blinks my eyes;
sunlight through the hedgerows.

Back to Bed

My head is stuffed with cotton wool,
my chest is sore, my nose is red,
my eyes are heavy, drooping lids;
I’m going back to bed.

Morning Mist

The morning mist hangs heavy
like a pall of smoke.
The lights of passing cars
glimmer like cats eyes.

Cat Flap

Grey skies, rain and hail stones
and at the window one wet cat
pleads with her eyes to be let in,
too lazy to use the cat flap.

Hiding the Sun

Low in the sky, sun
shines in my eyes where I work.
I pull down the blind.

Autumn Sun

The autumn sun is warm,
the birds sing.
If I close my eyes
I could almost believe it is spring.

The Green Man

Eyes half closed, I relax in the morning sun
and on the edge of conscious vision, just a glimpse —
for a brief moment I thought I saw
the Green Man striding through my garden
inspecting his handiwork.

Site content copyright of Elizabeth Leaper (Libby).

Supporting the Printed Word

Read the Printed Word!