Poetry

This week my writing group met to share their thoughts about travel.

I wrote a poem:


Stasis and movement
ebb and flow
mountain and sea.
I move from the centre
to the periphery.

At rest I draw my
outlines of the world.
In movement I fill spaces
of crazy colours mixing.
My lines are reconfigured
or erased.

Thought and action
concept and experience.

India filled in worlds
my mind imagined-
but I did not think
the world might be
so crumpled-
I saw Jane Austen's hedgerows
from the highroad near the paddy
and Dickens' close-by houses
nodding in streets
of working beasts-
Dostoyevsky also
made flesh
around the books upon my shelf.