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A Selection of Work by our Members
Ty Newydd (2)

A window-seat viewing curve
Forms a belvedere
For green fields.
The far-off sea.
Flower scents
Sent
For scanning.
Wafting and fixing
Into lines -
Long lingering lines alliterating
Or chopped into
Bouchées,
Tasty, aromatic
Morsels
One bite enslaves
Word-lovers,
Making gourmets
Of them all.

© Copyright 2007 Megan Robertson

A Room of my own

Like Virginia Woolf,
I need this personal space
To feel I belong to the human race
Otherwise, I am otherwise -
Not nice to know.
We all need to grow
Into a person with room
Enough for now.
There’s not a lot,
Space, I mean,
With papers and pens and things.
Books galore,
With words and adjectives after and before.
Rhymes at time, the odd metaphor
Or aphorism, quotations by
Philosophers from foreign nations
In my room. Can you believe it?
Such chats we have in my head.
Must clear this stuff from my bed
Tomorrow. It’s another day
When the sun comes into my room
Showing up the punctuation marks
On the carpet, spilled there the day before
When their linking did not aid
My thinking, and I came to a full stop

© Copyright 2007 Megan Robertson

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