Original Poetry / Poetry

Bloom Creative Writing: Poetry by Kate Meyer-Currey

With this selection of five poems by Kate Meyer-Currey we continue our new series of original fiction or poetry by writers who either published their first book at 40 or after, or who have yet to publish a book. Writers interested in submitting work should see our guidelines.

Photo by Audrey Haimin/Unsplash

Fading in the fields
Shoulders bowed
Heads drooping;
Petals dropping
In silent protest:
Captive in the vase
On my table 
Recalled now 
In blazoned ranks
Following another sun
In lost formation:
Faint traces 
Of my father’s words
On ghost pages. 

Devon Autumn

Sunlight sweeps the fields
Retains some summer heat
Refracted rust and ochre
To armor the harvested earth
Against autumn’s stealth advance 
As buried warriors’ hoards
Still gleam with battle bronze
Routed by daylight’s blade 
Glancing off sharded bone.
Hedges form arched phalanxes
Glow with furnace fire
Tempering branch and bough 
Against winter’s axe bite.
Rowans are heavy with blood;
Apples held to golden ransom
Fallen in the field of combat
The lost legion of summer. 

Photo by Annie Spratt/Unsplash
Morning: A 38

Sky’s frieze of toile de jouy
Interweaves trees’
Shadow-patterned branches 
Against counterpane hills.
Morning mist draws back
Its voile curtains
Across the patchwork land,
Couched with careful hedges
French-knotted with sheep
Appliquéd towns and farms 
Densely felted 
From hedgerow wool:
Ribboned by lanes
Strained to bias-bound edges
Of the main road’s 
Heavy duty zip;
Seamed with running stitch;
Cats’ eye-sequins 
Catch the morning light.

Dawn chorus 

Spring has shifted the year’s 
Uneven balance and the light 
Spreads even as dawn adjusts
The dogged counterweight of 
Winter dark which has pulled 
Me down into slow starts from 
Sleep’s saturation and dragged 
Me yawning home in the fog.
Now the light and I are both 
Awake together and it feels 
Like a new beginning, even 
Before dawn, where windows 
Are not blinkered by night’s
Blackout, but gauzy with the
Day’s start. I can hear fresh 
Hope in birdsong filtered by 
Brighter air, its fluid notes 
Breaking through winter’s
Sound-barrier, like melt-water,
Trilling and bubbling from 
The glacier’s frozen heart. 
Now light flows on an even 
Note, dancing to a new tune,
In time with the dawn chorus;
Rhythm and harmony at one,
Roused by the year’s morning. 

Photo by Nick Palmer/Unsplash
Colors of stars 

Primroses drift the verges in their 
Constellations; merging like the
Milky Way, as gorse-flowers hold 
My gaze with their burning capella 
Stare, while daffodil galaxies fade 
Like dying stars. Magnolias 
Flicker as their oscillating petals 
Burst into radiant supernovas. 
Camellias pulsate and glow with 
Antares’ red fire until they burn 
Out and drop like meteorites onto 
Grass where daisies blink with 
Red-rimmed lashes, kept wakeful 
By the slower-setting sun and
Dandelions smoulder into dusk;
Where bluebells absorb the 
Spring sky into a hazy nebula. 

Kate Meyer-Currey was born in 1969 and moved to Devon in 1973. A varied career in frontline settings has fueled her interest in gritty urbanism, contrasted with a rural upbringing. Her ADHD also instils a sense of ‘other’ in her life and writing. Her chapbook, County Lines, is forthcoming from Dancing Girl Press and her work has appeared or will appear in a number of literary journals, including Blue Heron Review, Red Wolf Journal, Snapdragon and Quillkeeper’s Press, among others.

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