Listen for the Silence

Listen for the silence in the darkness

The perfect note we can all get right.

The snow falls earthward

Unheard, dropping silently and

Populating the land with stars of white

Millions –

Billions of flakes, binding together

And smoothing over the disparate,

Broken and unsightly.

For snow silently signals delight,

Wonder, happiness and harmony.

We look on,

Mesmerised by a world changed

Under a clean, white blanket of

Virgin snow,

untouched innocent forgiving.

And I wonder what would happen

Should humanity take a clean sheet

Stop its septic squabbles

To share a blanket of forgiveness.

Hush now.


When you hear the silence

You will know we have got

At least one note right.

Photo and poem copyright Englepip©

Wind in the Pines

Oh to be among the pines

And hear the elemental rushing of the wind:

Earth-based waves lashing the forest, crashing and fading 

When the branches sway twigs bruising  twigs,

Like pebbles that grind along the shore as waves retreat through shingle:

Calming, but with a sense of danger.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

In the Fall

In the Fall
Everything falls earthward
It should be a time of


At Summer’s end.

But Autumn leaves
Turning to their brightest
Most gloriously
Sublime embrace
Of life.

In death
Nature shines
Puts on her
Royal robes
And parades
Across the land
Dancing in the wind,
In glory.

And why?

Because she knows
This is just the beginning
That after a winter retreat
There will be new life
New beginnings.

This is not death at all
This is life conquering death
Looking for tomorrow.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip ©

Little Me

My house is my home
And it goes where I roam
And as I grow big
So does it.
It’s always my size
Never too tight a fit
Though I eat and I graze
All night long.
Though it’s comfy and warm
And it keeps me from harm
I never eat in; watch TV.
So tonight I’ll eat out
While the birds not about
And I hope you won’t
Mind little me.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©

Where dinosaurs roam

Where dark skies glower o’er grey seas and greyer cliffs
Daily they search the shingle and the rocks for signs of fossils
Life which they say, once was; now gone;
Once flesh and bone; now become stone.
Following the shoreline, head bowed, sight funnelled
As with blinders, focussed but without the peripheral
The geologist scours the beach for proof of evolution.
While here sit I, above the littoral; looking down and out to sea
Along the coast of ancient rocks of times of my existence;
Jurassic coast, where time bleeds into the beach.
He sees his footprints in the sand, and I see mine;
For here we meet across millennia; in this place;
This earthly space where our soles show
That both our souls; have touched Creation.

When I visited the Jurassic coast of Dorset, England, recently, it was grey and overcast, eerie and moon-like, as though primordial times still existed. I could not help but picture the dinosaurs which once roamed here and whose fossilised bones sometimes fall (bleed) onto the beach as proof of an existence we can hardly imagine. Footprints too have been found along the coast and so often, as with much of mature, it is a case of being able to recognise, see things, which otherwise we might walk past. I imagined that the dinosaurs were still present as if in another time or realm, for we both walked this land; we are both part of creation.

Poem and photo copyright Englepip©