Poem By Celia Cross

My room

Today light is streaming into my room from the south and west

Illuminating the interior, bouncing off glass picture frames

Its beauty reflected by the mirror on the wall.

Soft furnishings soak up the sun's warm rays.

Open the windows!  Open the doors! Let in the sunshine!

Does it matter if I see the dust now on every surface?

I'll clean tomorrow when it has disappeared behind the clouds

and my room is once again in shadow.               


Sultry, shimmering sphere


Never ending source of life

List poem

I come from a city with three spires

Who stood defiantly rising above the rubble of destruction

I come from a time when their bells had just rung out in peace


I come from a place of relief and rationing

Where sadness and hope were felt in equal measure

I come from a time much simpler than now


Fast water flowing 

Our essential source of life

Is drowning the town

Childhood Memory

Hooves sparking on village street

George our blacksmith goes to meet

the local hunt

Looking down from chestnut mare

Sees all the children playing there

Blood red jacket, shiny boots, snowy jodhpurs

Dressed to kill

He rides  to hounds and witnesses the grizzly end. 

Memories of a country pursuit 

Now condemned. 


Celia Cross