Tracy WatsonBrown

Sleep comes wearily
Knowing how this will finish-
Darkness, silence, peace.
...

Deep silence.
Birds calling-
Skylark, pigeon, crow.
Caressing breezes-
...

The storm has broken-
heavy air replaced by breezes.
Tonight we sleep well.
...

Your silence has sent
me to my room like
a naughty child. It
is peaceful here.
...

Haven of peace,
Yet no peace for me.
Love set in stone,
Hardened in misery.
...

Buddlia drooping
heavily-purple flowers
drip with butterflies.
...

We spent the day together
(Sam, Jesus and me) ,
And we played and ran and bounced.
Sam is very special to me.
...

Wise owl sits
In complete noiselessness,
And contemplates his legend.
It is in this quiet repose
...

</>Who knows the thoughts of old men?
They seem so safe, so slow,
but these men are boys in their hearts and heads.
...

They say they've killed the baddest dude in town;
That he resisted to the very end.
They threw his shrouded body overboard;
Bin Laden's death means we can rest in peace.
...

His name was Claude Stanley Choules.
He was a living testimony
Until today.
...

All night fat flakes fell gently
So we woke to a world clean, fresh and bright.
Thickly wrapped we ventured out
Anticipating rare fun, knowing it would not last long.
...

The face I see is one with drained flesh
Losing form and identity;
Bones breaking through the outer parts.
Hands, knarled and stiff,
...

The right life is marked by simplicity.
Fresh baked bread.
Butter, cheese, pickles.
Blackberries gathered, eaten with cream.
...

Awake my soul
Listen to the spirit song
The heart beat of love.
Awake and take your share
...

One week in four I slip into daydream,
The real is veiled; a world is inside me.
An ebb and flow of physicality
With forced moments of dull lucidity,
...

Dear Dad,
You said - you will end up like your mother
Enjoy it while you can-
By which, I presume, you meant fat,
...

Gaza is bombed.
Railway strike ballots.
Suicide bomb child,
Widowed at seventeen.
...

I add mayo to prawns.
Stirring, the squelch of fish on sauce is satisfying.
You eat breakfast.
A blob on the bread spreads with difficulty.
...

The sky is dull- but the
white wings of gulls
flash against it.
So, I will look for signs of your presence
...