Deal Writers Community Poem 1     07.05.09 The bulrushes shake though there is no wind and inlet ice complains with each crack. A frosted stillness catches its breath: there's no going back. Trek steadily forward step by step crisp footprints trail behind. Pause in your own warm breath, its sketchy rhetoric of swirling gasps, and think of fleeting, joyful moments, melting in the spring thaw. Dreams-turned-slush must trickle into earth unless crystallised, in some icy recess of your mind. The earth stirs, sinuous shoots uncurl in unseen depths to grasp at goodness stored. Your fingers, freed from feeling, cannot touch ice without remembering water cannot remember water without pulling strength from imagery and struggling free of winter's flinty clutch to watch as bulrush heads explode in dreams. Gary Studley, Jo Field, Jane Findley, Alan Gleave, Stuart Groom, Jen Kahawatte, Lorraine Lloyd, Ron Ogilvie, Marilyn Donovan.                             Back to News