Biography of Diana Rosser
- Soft Wind -new-
Diana Rosser Poems
I Went Walking
I went walking beneath an English sky, around dormant fields churned winter brown. The chill air on my face was crisp and dry. The path I walked waved up and down
Into The Shadow
Come; let us walk towards the water's edge through soft green grass, adorned with wild flowers. Sheltered on a blanket spread, we will stretch beneath the shadow of the Alder's boughs.
They fly through my heart small measures of joy beating away early morning
Cool water pushes up against my face.
In my garden a new rose blooms, velvet red with heady sweet perfume. The rose bush itself is carefully tended, fertilized, when best remembered.
The New Bedroom
The new bedroom, which I built in my head for what seemed an endless time waits, with full boxes for her return.
On lucent gossamer wings fulgent in
It is morning and the promise of day sweeps across the sky. Meadow grasses oscillate gently in the dolce wind.
This Autumn Day
This autumn day, gossamer mist lies low across the field kiss'd by tiny glist'ning pearls cleaving to tawny buckled blades weaving
Give Hope A Chance
Death, you have spent too long in the desert, move away. Let kindly soothing winds wrap gentle discourse around past pain and hurt and mend the rift that tears the growing gap.
It is the hollow of your shoulder blade where I rest my head
So As Dreams
Bright new day, familiar in its dawning ripens as swelling fruit on the apple tree; full of song this maturing morning promising sweet for the autumn table.
Give Me A Drink
Before me thy beauty sparkles. Woven into your long cool deliciousness bubbles rise perfect in their minuteness.
He Has Gone
He has gone to shadow in sweet shade, out of the glare from the ancient sun, placed his footsteps in footsteps done, left the ripe rose garden that he laid.
Weary and downcast, carrying the many heavy cares of the day I enter the garden.
Picking up the patient rake, with steady rhythm I gather the last of withered autumn into damp brown pools.
Green grass glistens and parts.
There is life’s new shoots poking through beneath the pear tree.
With easing breath and straightening limbs I bear the fallen leaves to the compost heap.
A gossamer spider’s web stretches, perfect and taut against the wooden frame.
The resident robin contemplates my mo