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Glenis Moore

Fireworks night

We climbed the hill behind the pub,

through the wet muddy grass, our feet

slipping as we scrabbled to the top.

Then we waited, quiet as night, while

the bats floated through the silent trees,

until signs of a bonfire flickered up.


Within seconds a rocket burst -

a rainbow of sparkles in the sky -

its loud 'Bang!' shattering the stillness.

A fox barked reply and the bats fled

behind the hill as more rockets flew

in all colours of dazzling light.


When they were done we stood while the

dark and cold world returned with the

noise of the wild a welcome relief.



The Kiss

I was drunk and

bored with Tony's friends

so I kissed you and

promised what?

I don't remember that

just the look that

haunts me as they

asked you to leave.

Autumn feelings

The leaves they fall in autumn

as do my spirits too.

I cannot stand the dying,

as decay does accrue.

Some people love the colours,

as green turns into red,

but I know that it's winter

that's heralded instead.


For in the depths of winter

my soul is balled up tight.

I hate the cold and darkness,

I crave the joy of light.

But days seems even longer

and there's no warmth in me.

I count the weeks till summer

when once again I'm free


to roam the sunlit meadows

and splash in sky blue seas

to feel the garden growing

and climb the highest trees.

But summer days grow shorter

as my heart slowly grieves,

so when it's time for autumn

I do not watch the leaves.

Glenis has been writing poetry since the beginning of the first Covid lockdown. She writes mainly about her past, the environment, and/or her cats, and does most of her writing at night as she suffers from severe insomnia. When she is not writing poetry, she makes beaded jewellery, reads, cycles and sometimes runs 10k races slowly. She lives just outside Cambridge in the flat expanse of the Fens.

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