Biography of Janice Windle
Janice Windle Poems
(for Dónall) Love Song
I sat sweating in my July hat your leg warm on mine, your smile glowing near my cheek,
(for Dónall) Gifts
You give me poems speaking truths, living pictures that dance for me;
Driving To Southampton
Long shadows this bright November morning. Sun
(for Dónall) In Dark Night
(for Dónall) One Of Those Nights (1)
It was one of those nights when clouds hid the moon, when you said, 'Come to bed, love, ' and I answered, 'Soon...' as I opened the windows on Facebook and Myspace and started to blog, and our love was in second place
(ups And Downs Collection) .... Giving U...
Easy to give up, when you’ve been given up on. Easy to step into the shade, avoid harsh light that points up the errors that you’ve made.
(for Dónall) On Buying New Lingerie......
On Spending an Exceedingly Long Time in Debenham’s Lingerie Department Buying Bigger Underwear After the Usual Christmas Indulgence Despite Dónall’s Kind Assurances That It is AS HE LIKES IT! I’m busy in the changing room choosing bras, to fit my bigger,
(growing Pains) Age Shall Not...
Aging, I look in the mirror. There I see my future etched in lines that my fingertips struggle to accept.
(winter Poems) Dreaming Of A White Chri...
Has it all been said? The Winter Wonderland, the landscape under coverlet, dreaming in a soft white bed.
(for Dónall) Portrait Of A Poet, Sl...
Turning her head she finds his sleeping face a few inches from hers. A moment to hold in her mind’s gallery. Immobile, peaceful, open to her calm inspection,
(summer Poems) Some Haiku And Tankas) ...
SUNBATHING White cloud’s hand turning tipping over sky blue bowl,
(for Dónall) Magellation
This poem was written in the first couple of weeks after I met Dónall and it's based on my mishearing of the word 'modulation' - the word he used for the easy transmuting of one mode, one mood, into another, which the two of us experienced in our communicaions with each other. I think my new word, 'magellation' means the magic of easy communication though words and touch, which we have found with each other from the start. This is the poem:
(italian Collection) Christ And The Adu...
This poem was inspired by the painting by Rocco Marconi (active in Venice 1504 - 1526) in the Academia Art Gallery in Venice, where I drew the expressive faces of the onlookers to the drama of Christ rescuing the adultress from the harsh law which would have had her stoned to death. 'I am an exotic gift, pearls in braided honey hair. I gather my coral wrappings about my satin shoulders,
(for Dónall) Green Fingers
If Not For Love
If you and I had never met and loved,
My heart would be a tight black bud,
Forever furled, seeming to be promising
A fragrant opening, a spreading bed of roses,
But closed, bitten early by the frost,
Denying access to the butterfly of love.
If my eyes had never opened on your clear gaze,
My blindness, my oblivion, would be complete.