She finds sweet-bitter nostalgia
And the succulent melancholy
Of a faraway gaze,
In her wondering
At the grandeur:
And her place within it.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Beyond The Crowding Thoughts
Beyond the crowding thoughts
And all that shadows
Freedom’s choice
Glows blue sky
Width and dimension.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Poetry Snack
This poem is easy to digest
And doesn’t require you to invest
Beyond five lines of effortfulness.
It’s a snack to wet your appetite,
Tide you over till the main meal.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
From Blueness
Sea born rhythms
Arrive in blueness pulse
After blueness pulse,
And where the shallows
Show in pale shoals
And the globes of stones
Glow egg-like and shimmering,
The waves rise troubled
And breathe the air
To the new azure
Of their turbulent lungs,
Curling and introvert
In their wet work
Until the almost perfect
Curve of the rolling surf
Slips from the form and balance
Of its clothes
And seeks abandon
In bubble
And white water surge:
All its energy fragmented
And absorbed
In the froth and melee
Of interface.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Mottisfont Brown Trout
Lazy in the shallow stream,
Silken bellies tickling
The golden gravel.
Heads toward clarity
And clean new
Flush of gills,
Absorbent and capturing.
With but a gentle pulse
To keep stillness,
The shoal mimics
The sinusoidal weed,
In greens scribing wellings
And turbulence
Fingering the sinuous flow:
And leisurely,
They face forever
And the sweet taste
Of always coming,
Always there,
Always flowing,
Always there,
And the tranquil
Cool beginnings
In every moment.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Created Nevertheless
By hapless chance
Or fine design
Bees are miraculous.
In the scheme of being,
Created Nevertheless.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Bees Are Litmus To The Land
Bees are litmus to the land.
In their contentment
Is our milk
And sustenance,
For they are single minded
In nature’s plan
Of balance in the gathering:
Their Society
For the benefit of all within,
And kin and neighbours too
Are thus glad
For their best harvesting.
Bees are litmus.
They speak now
About man
On Earth.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Summer Breeze
Summer breeze
Gentle in the leaf tips,
Rustling silver in the sun,
Playful as the lovers
Whose bough-bodies bend
And flex below:
Their hair too
Is wind tussled.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Late Afternoon At The Beach
Late afternoon
Refracts and alters
The sea from blue-scape
Of cool, dark wandering,
To a surface of captured sea-light,
Spliced by wave flux
To an oscillating multitude
Of angles:
And from it rises haze
In subtle smudge
And salt puff,
Driven above the surge,
Ascending as the outer edge
Of the visible wave,
To high spirit
And fine distillate
Of seawater ether,
Energised beyond
Dense form
And made buoyant
On air’s
Much lighter,
Transitory
Substance.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
Bees On Lavender
To each fine
Ripe strand
And purple
Crowning wand,
Alight the
Balance of bees,
In gentle weight
And measurement,
As stalks bow reverent
In ease.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
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