Adeeyoyo's Blog

I write what I feel…


Winter’s Almost Here

Winter's Almost Here

Winter’s Almost Here

Winter’s Almost Here


Striptease trees whose leaves

Fall on semi naked ground

Auburn has darkened to shades of brown

While yellows and reds have all but gone

The long days of summer topped and tailed

Tho’ what is left is still warm as toast

Where the wind cannot reach us

Straining to grasp us as we linger

In our shelter under the wilting sun.


Image and poem: ©Denise G Allen, 04 May 2014 07:08


On the Wind


Sunrise at the seaside
Bloodied the water and
The golden sands blushed,
But not for long,
A few minutes and it was gone.

A tiny movement caught my eye,
~~ a bird flapping?
It was not, but a sweet wrapping
Trapped ‘tween sand and breeze,
Flip-flap, flip-flap as it tried to get free.

I loosened the sand and watched
As it sailed way, way up in the air ~~
A kite without a tail, but it was free
As free as it could possibly be
And I thought, “If only we… …”


©Denise G Allen, 08 January 2014 04:48



Shades - Trees

Shades – Trees





Shades of green with blue and gold
Block out more than half the sky ~
Magnificent trees, some young, some old,
With leaves that whisper in the breeze.

They sway, they bounce, they flounce,
Coquettish moods become apparent,
But then again they can be fierce
And whip themselves into a fury.

Sheltering birds take fright, take flight
Away from these bad tempered giants
Whose harbour was no longer offered,
Whose comfort was no longer proffered.

However, with the passing of the storm
I looked up at the leaves of varied hue,
At the sky of palest blue, and was
To find
A passing bird spit in my eye!


Image and poetry: ©Denise G Allen, 05 November 2013 08:15


Wings of the Wind


My soul sings

With the song of the wind,

Harmonising, synchronising…

Blow high, blow low

As around the world we go

Carried as the air’s

Sweet currents flow

From the mountains on high

To the valleys below

Lift me up, lift me up…

Let my spirit soar

On the wings of the wind.


©Denise G Allen, 19 October 2013 13:56


Coldest Winter’s Day


I would say, with skies of grey,
This is our coldest winter’s day.
The skies of blue have blown away
And the cold, I fear, is here to stay.

Sulky clouds hang overhead,
Frowning at those still abed.
The damp wind breathes its frosty breath,
As cold as ice, as cold as death.

We huddle in our warmest coats,
We wrap our scarves around our throats,
We glove our hands and sock our feet,
We cap our crowns, oh so discrete,
Before we head into the street.

©Denise G Allen, 05 July 2013 06:19


The Wind


The Wind


Lying on the silky *strand

A study in immobility

I feel the warm wind

Caressing me

Polishing my skin

With fine grains of sand

And the softest spray of sea


Photograph: Per kind favour of

©Denise G Allen, 09 January 2013 06:02 *Edited 08:19

*Strand: The shore of a sea, lake, or large river: “a heron glided to rest on a pebbly strand”. The Free Dictionary.


Wings of the Wind


On the wings of the wind

I fly through the sky

and the wings of the wind

raise me up to the high-

est point of the blue

so I’m nearer to You.


I’m removed from the cares

and my earthly fears

when I float in the rare

ambience of the air

while my dream is refined

on the wings of the wind.


©DGA 26 December 2011 13:34