Tuesday, 14 June 2011


Tuesday 14th June 2011, A. Palmer

I studied you, silent sage,-
out of the corner of an eye,
as I perched on that day’s flower
like only an eight-year-old can,
whilst a hill of crumpled drawings
I’d overshot the lines in sprouted
like a stem in fast-forward nearby.
I observed impressed how your brow
rooted and raked for the solution,
the lines like spades, digging
and tossing the problems
over for clues.
Occasionally, your pen
would rest between your reticent lips
like a fork emflowerbedded for a tea break.
just before you left for a locum,
your wilted fingers would 
plough your morning thorns,
dusting the soil from the answer, and you
would unearth the nine-letter word with nominal fuss.
That day, it was “grandsire”.


  1. I really really love these lines....
    whilst a hill of crumpled drawings I’d
    overshot the lines in sprouted
    like a stem in fast-forward nearby......
    The poem has this twist and turn with words....seeming to have the process of a flower twisted and wrapped throughout.
    Great poem. I keep reading it over and over.

  2. really well penned aaron...you capture well that 8 year old and what they perceive to see..

  3. Nicely done, I like the way you expressed it.

  4. i can see that 8 year old right before my mind's eyes..excellent capture of a moment arron