Saturday, 31 March 2012

THICKET by Danielle Hope

I bramble forward
bees bumbling and
buzzing the gorse
wasping my legs.

Grass has been
rabbitted away
only spickle
and dry pinches remain.

In the far away
sheep stutter
greening.
I am uncontrollably lost.


Taken, with permission, from Danielle Hope's most recent collection, 'Giraffe under a Grey Sky', published by the Rockingham Press.  Danielle's website is www.daniellehope.org.

2 comments:

  1. Great poem. Really packs a lot in a small space - I'm there. Though I can't quite work out what 'greening' means.

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  2. Hi Adam. Thanks for your comment - really pleased that you like it. Greening! Can be several things - the blurred sheep on the grass, how the poet feels internally or even looks - turning green. Or all these. Or you may have your own ideas? Thanks for picking it up. Daniellie

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