Illuminating the Night

"I need not make a statement of our situation, our words spoken are more solid that pewter, gold, such stuff does not compare."

"Two candles lit in prayer, we two make mid-summer on the feast of St. Thomas the Apostle, illuminating the night, there is strength in our right."

Lisa D'Onofrio

BATS

Out of those dark corners of our lives
bats, in lofts or under thatch
fall into dusk like autumn leaves
from weathered barn and ancient church

Bats in lofts or under thatch
hang like strange untasted fruits
from weathered barn and ancient church.
We too are fruits, are seeds, are roots,

hang like strange untasted fruits
from branches we can feel but cannot see.
We too are fruits, are seeds, are roots,
unfurling supple wings to fly free

from brances we can feel but cannot see
falling into dusk like autumn leaves
unfurling supple wings to fly free
out of those dark corners of our lives.

Dot Cobley

St Margaret’s Church, Paston

The wind sighs through the pale horse chestnut flowers
And ivy spills like water over elderflowers.

A spider’s web is glued from pew to pew,
Its maker crouching in the carved wood flower.

Outside I gather speedwell, borage and cranesbill
untended beside the dipping heads of gilt rose flowers.

Beneath the stinging locks of nettles, a tombstone warms my hand.
And Margaret gives thanks for every leaf and flower. 

Caroline Gilfillan

THE BOOK OF THE KNIGHT OF LA TOUR LANDRY

Written to stir
and turn my daughters
to goodness and worship -

Be humble and courteous
to great and small
Learn how to read
Do not haunt taverns or
attend wrestling matches
And when children and servants disobey
take a rod and start to beat them

Lisa D'Onofrio

MARGERY'S BATTLE BLUES

Heavy tidings
written imaginings
so much lacking
Monday broken

Lisa D'Onofrio

THIS IS NOT A LOVE POEM

There’s been cross bows, gown cloth, herring and beaver
Girdles, sugar loaf, treacle and fever
Candlesticks, beatings, cinnamon and images of wax
 Jewels, riots, windows and jacks

But, it right pleaseth me
Reading between the lines
That we are still here
And you are still mine

Lisa D'Onofrio

Cutting

A heavy curve
swerves
as slow
as stillness
moves

Stone cut
bone dry

chisel out
hammer in.

A hard hand moves soft
wood and iron on soft
stone making
its point.

The upper sweep
of the high flourish
on a pillared letter
finally complete.

How heavy is the cut
and Hard the word.

Adrian Ward

A CLERK WRITES A LETTER FOR MARGERY BREWS

In its raven-shine ink my quill holds
the catch in your throat when you speak his name,
the pressing together of your hands
under wool sleeves, for the morning sky
has spilled frost spiders onto the grass.

Yet my capital R throws out bramble arms.
The p and the f drop swallows' tails.
My os and as are rosy cherries.
And the letters plough a steady furrow
long and straight as your fathers fields

See, Margery, what a summer I have sown
in pleading your suit with John Paston.

Caroline Gilfillan

Back to top of page