There is that sweet moment of the day when silence seems to descend and time holds still and even the bustle of a packed café remains unnoticed as you let your mind wander, take a turn down a path, untrodden, overgrown with branches forming a canopy of green, and as you wander you begin to notice the magical figures that flitter between the leaves, darting from flower to flower to add a sparkle of colour, and just ahead you glimpse a white steed, a unicorn, drinking from a brook as an elf plays a lullaby on a panpipe, an it is at these moments you paint a scene, craft a character and place them, give them words to say and a task to do, a quest to strive after, to reach for like the words you seek to place on a page, a phrase of imagination, and then you pause for a moment, look around, and realise where you are, in that café, surrounded by people.

This came about when wondering what to write. It had been a while since I wrote something new as I had been spending my time editing a book of mine ready for submission so the creative muscle was rusty. And whilst sat there in the open with a coffee nearby, it reminded me of all those times when time stood still as I wrote, how it could take you places and how a good piece of writing could also take its reader places. So I wrote about that moment.



a single tear
white and crystalline
clings to the surface
making blue cold
a forest of alabaster
stands silent
almost unmoving
as air whispers dance
speaking of tales
of dead adventurers
from distant lands
stuck in time
compass frozen
before scurrying on
who will sing
a song for them now
the great polar spirit
cries alone
before leaping after
its bearded flesh

SILENCE This poem stemmed from me playing with a random word generator. I knew I wanted to write a “still” poem about the arctic but just need a few words to trigger a start even if I didn’t use them in the actual poem (which I didn’t).