a tree-lined lane with a spring breeze and the smell of sun
an arty bookstore and café-restaurant with umbrella coverings
broken twigs, pebbles, stones
bungalows and a village church with a water well in the courtyard
a large leafy country detached in a cul-de-sac with ivy sprouting from walls
a freshly painted door
the scent of lavender
a grand piano by the bay window
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
lulled by silence
a hint of sunshine
traces of spring
the cemetery is silent
the flowers still
the solitary mourners perched by gravestones
alone in their grief
the village stands empty now
its buldings abandoned
each person swallowed into silence
the seasons pass
spring, summer, autumn, winter
new mourners visit each day
to place flowers on the graves
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
you wake with a shout and bolt forward in bed
snippets of your dream slipping away
leaving traces of disquiet
flickers of panic
why did you awake so suddenly?
was it because you thought you heard footsteps on the stairs?
your dream warning of an intruder?
a person you’ve dreamt about before and recently?
someone creeping up the stairs?
you listen now for sounds in the dark
but there is only silence
and yet the house isn’t empty
you sense that
and again you hear it just like you did in the dream
a muffled footstep outside your bedroom
and then the door opens with a creak
and a vase falls to the floor with a crash
shattering into tiny pieces
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
psychological thriller
the hill at the top of the village
a housing estate shaped like a V
orange box dwellings with satellite dishes
fields and washed out grass
twisting lanes, lone stiles
a village church with muddy brown spire
further down a promenade
empty as always
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
a deserted road with abandoned shops
the rubbish piled high
rain splatters in the dark
soaking mould-filled boxes
nearby a cat screeches
primitive cries of fear, loneliness or hunger
the unseen cat wails again
and still, the rain falls
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
you take a walk along a twisting path
flanked by hedges and trees and fields
the warmth of the sun guides you
as you continue alone in silence
whispers and echoes of a life that once was
grief overwhelms you, storming your chest
you reach the end of the trail and turn
to begin the lonely journey home
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
I wouldn’t normally post about Mental Health issues, but I’ve found the last few months difficult.
Uncertainty. Worry. Fear. Financial insecurity.
I can handle the uncertainty (and even the loss of employment), but not the way Parliament has dealt with the Coronavirus crisis. Nor the selfishness (and hypocrisy) I see in society in regards to Social Distancing, along with lack of respect or care for those Shielding or in other difficult circumstances.
I feel the British public could choose to Self Distance and carry on as normal. It just requires a bit of consideration, particularly in stepping back and allowing a person to pass with enough space in between. Instead, most days I come across a shopper with no mask on, staring around the store with a challenging and defiant look on their face. It’s really annoying and unsettling. Often, the shopper will disregard all Social Distancing advice.
Anyway, I think a Second Wave will occur and that tougher times are inevitable.
To stay sane during this period, I have put together an Interview-style video in which I discuss my piano training and recitals, along with my later interest in creative writing.
Happy listening.
The old house stands at the top of a hill
Alone and abandoned
Surrounded by grass and earth
Weeds sprout across an uneven path
The faded curtains and peeling paint hint of secrets
An unproven rumour from the past
Silent weeping
The house has remained empty for years
People don’t want to come here
Apart from drunken kids for weekend dares
Or the morbid drawn to tragedy
© Lawrence Estrey 2019
poetry
silence falls trembling with uncertainty
empty streets trapped in the past
as fear sweeps the world
gaining speed and strength
a new wave of the virus, perhaps?
no one knows
we can fix this—or so we thought
we don’t need Social Distancing
too drastic, too boring
we’re invincible
people took to the streets, angry and confident
but many succumbed and died
society couldn’t cope
the system broke down
along with the world’s resources
now houses lies abandoned
except for memories
and corpses and broken skeletons
and ghosts, unseeing and uncaring
© Lawrence Estrey 2020
Poetry
The woman with silver hair wore a cream cardigan and sunglasses.
Pushing a small suitcase along the ground, she approached the ticket office.
Dawn thought there was something familiar about the woman, but she couldn’t identify what.
The voice.
West Country.
The accent reminded her of wild flowers and of an afternoon in a garden many years ago.
An untidy garden in Devon with autumn leaves and a pond and clumps of damp earth.
Based on a previous novel attempt. Genre: psychological thriller
