Biography of Diana Rosser
Diana Rosser Poems
The Shady Path
If your reckless mind unobserved wanders into the deep dark sea, then swim towards the lapping shore and walk towards the tall oak tree
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
They fly through my heart small measures of joy beating away early morning
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.
In my garden a new rose blooms, velvet red with heady sweet perfume. The rose bush itself is carefully tended, fertilized, when best remembered.
Thoughts Of You
My words will carry swift upon the wind and speed across the stormy ocean waves. No hurricane will stunt their flying wings or find them left outcast amongst the brave.
Cool water pushes up against my face.
Inside Me Was The Stillness
Woven, high between bare branches rooks nests gather where new growth sprouts, amidst the stillness inside me.
The Sky Was Blue
The sky was blue today. Sun light glinted on my eye lids and bare stretching branches. Along the railway embankment, though it is early spring, the spindly matted trees, silhouetted against the cloudless sky,
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.
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