Saturday, 13 August 2016

Summer's End

There is the sun, pale but slowly lifting
through smoky shreds of tangled cloud,
and overhead the moon becalmed and fading.

Such tender days give no sign of easing,
though captive leaves sigh for the clench of frost
and fumbling bees are somnolent and loitering.

Beneath my feet, the luscious grass still springing
near scarlet hips already ripe, yet
summer’s breeze is warm and softly lingering.

In truth there has to be an ending,
but turning leaves drift one by one –
so calm the fall; so strong the sap still rising.

Published in 'The Dawntreader', Summer 2016

  Globe thistles and Marguerites -

                     the glory of our summer garden.............

Friday, 8 July 2016

The Spare Room

I think of this small room as mine,
but know it isn’t; that others
come and go – fleeting shadows -
and gaze at the painting of azure seas.

When I return, there are still the shells
heaped and heady with a tang of salt.
Clasping their roughness to my ears
there’s the hissing lure of pounding surf.

Each day the quivering curtains
filter translucent light and warmth
on to my cool skin and pale wrists,
where blue-veined river deltas run.

I lie, drinking in the comforting view;
nothing is new, though time is less
and seasons seamlessly change,
like old dreams – an endless reprise.
(Published in 'Reach Poetry', June 2016)


Sunday, 24 April 2016

A Spring Garden

Impatient for summer
her bare toes curl, settle
into soft moss; she savours
sweet violets, but dreams of lilac.

Catching her eye a pale brimstone            
lemon yellow, sails on waves of air.
Snowy blossom unlocks a fragrance
with the promise of summer’s plenty.                              

Nearby, the willow’s green mist quivers.
A sharp breeze cools the wavering sun.
She shuts the garden shed, breathes in
the freshness of cut grass, and shivers.
Sue Burley

Victoria Plum tree in blossom.......



Tuesday, 16 February 2016


You could say they saved
my life that day;
a limp bunch past their best -
or so I thought.
Speared leaves already tired,
traded for a fistful of change
and thrust into the first jar to hand.

But by morning they had revived,
come alive in the warmth
and now they face the world -
sun bright in their innocence.
They try their best with their
elusive scent that is balm
and succour to me.

I gaze long  in to their shady depths.
"Come on, come on," they whisper
just to me, "don't give up."

So, I can't and I haven't. Not yet.

Sue Burley

...daffodils are my favourite Spring bulbs and are flowering early this year due to a mild winter.
If I am out of kilter with life, these flowers have the power to restore hope and wellbeing.

..... now we are heading towards Spring, Winter has really begun; with sunny blue skies and  frosted grass and seed heads.  These photos were taken down in 6 Acre Meadow....
Seed heads of Giant Burdock

Teazle Seed heads

Oak Leaves with the frosted stems
of Rosebay Willow Herb

Thursday, 31 December 2015

Happy New Year to Everyone ....

..... Sadly, no snow for us this Christmas., or New Year!  
I have a sledge for the grandchildren, which has not been in use for at least two years. We are promised a cold snap in February, so here's hoping,and now for a snowy poem...........

Boxing Day – Nonsuch Park

We conjured up the long lost sounds
Of Henry hunting here with hounds,
Across the oak-edged rolling fields
Once ranged by stag and gentle hind

Gone are the herds of roaming deer,
The flying manes and glittering eye.
No hunting horns blow sharp and clear,
Yet still we love to walk through here.

Today the ice gleams on the trees,
The fields flow silver like the sea,
And larches softly drape their boughs
With lace of frosted filigree.

Above the dense, dark wooded hills,
The pale moon lies in turquoise sky.
Caught in time we stare, quite still
                                  at parakeets with rosy bills.
Sue Burley