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.
Sunflowers 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.
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.
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.