The Sun sings of the death of the Earth:

The Sun sings of infanticide,

Orchestrating the murder of its child.

Born from violence

Living in self consuming turmoil,

The Sun sings of final catastrophe:

A furnace of creation

Becoming flames of cremation,

As, bloated and dying

The death throes bulge and incinerate:

Consuming; expanding;

Annihilation increasing;

Until nothing is left but burnt embers.

Dark memories of a supernova

Brief and brilliant,

Fading back into time.


Yvonne Chamberlain

August 3rd 2017.


Cold steam rises from the wooden fence,

Frost lifts from the ground in wisps,

Mist whispering across the air in fireless smoke

As the sun dissolves the crystals of icy hoar frost:

The earth breathes again.


The robin must have cold feet

As he deftly lands on the slippery globe

Of the ice coated solar garden light.

The bird table drips with pearls:

Water for thirsty beaks freeing itself to be devoured.

Birds perch on roofs

Silently watching and waiting

For the sun’s microwave to defrost their food.


The trees weep liquid diamonds,

Sparkling briefly as they fall to succour the ground.

Glistening light runs a thin trace of fire

Along a gossamer thread so fine

That briefly catches the sunlight,

Floating on an unseen and unfelt breeze:

Illuminated danger visible for a moment;

The spider has been busy.


A leaf slowly unfolds

From the sharp grasp of ice.

Crystalline feather frost decorates with a lacy trim:

Nature’s mathematics on show

In intricate perfect patterns,

Which having coated its host in the secret dark of night

Now melts away in the face of sunlit day.


There’ll be peace in the heavens tonight

Although a sword sparkles bright in the sky,

For Orion still hunts over the fir tree’s great height,


The Hunter displaying his power and his might,

With his constellation’s arrow poised to fly;

Yet there’ll be peace in the heavens tonight.


His belts glints with a cold crystal light

On a background of blackness that pierces the eye,

As Orion still hunts over the fir tree’s great height.


White hoar frost holds the Earth, brittle and bright

In a grasp of ice feathers under the cold still sky,

But there’ll be peace in the heavens tonight.


All is lit by an icy clear light,

A night owl sends out his haunting cry

As Orion still hunts over the pine tree’s great height.


The Hunter glows silver, an awesome sight

Stamped on black velvet of a sky so high:

Yes, there’ll be peace in the heavens tonight

While Orion still hunts over the fir tree’s great height.


Yvonne Chamberlain

December 5th 2016orion_sm



veritypc2v3_771_0After the statue of ‘Verity’, given to the people of Ilfracombe

by sculptor/artist Damien Hirst.

Bronze and steel,

Encrusted with green,

Defiant in dissection.

The bulging truth of the child within.

Sword raised high in triumph;

Or for war? To fight?

I guard you. I am truth.

I am woman: I am Verity.

I stand on learning:

I grow from books;

I stand for justice, equality.

I am exultant. I am naked.

I am unashamed in my bareness,

Standing ugly in my fruitfulness.

I am woman: I am Verity.

I bear witness to feminine.

I hold life in my belly.

I am exposed in my weakness

And loomlarge in my strength.

I challenge. I state. I am.

Upright and proud I shout to you:

‘My truth that is hidden inside

Is the child that will become me’.

I am woman: I am Verity.

Yvonne Chamberlain

October 10th 2016



The sun on the autumn leaves

Lights them with fire that does not consume.

Their mother trees now closed down

No longer need to breathe

And drop their lungs upon the ground.


Through the bareness of it all

The light shines through, dappled, golden.

Dance now I say: ‘be quick, while you can,

Tomorrow’s rain will rot your fabric,

And leave exposed your dying veins’.


Or on a bonfire they’ll be swept,

Lifted high in the smokey vortex,

In wild and delirious flight.

The sun on Autumn leaves

Sends us a time-old message:

They lie and quietly decay,

Sustenance for  a coming Springtime day.


Yvonne Chamberlain

October 2016


On the occasion of Space Probe Juno entering the orbit of Jupiter, beaming back radio emissions of the auroras which were subsequently translated into music.  July 2016


Juno went to Jupiter,

They whirled amongst the stars.

Jupiter sang to Juno

In a sublime, mysterious voice,

An unearthly eerie sound

Only Holtz* could have understood .

Juno swung round Jupiter,

Captured by magnetic charm.

Their song echoed through the Universe;

Earth heard, and held her breath.

Her Sun star could also sing,

If Merlin* found  the wavelength,

But not in tones like this.

Juno heard and understood

The mighty planet’s song,

Jupiter the largest and most fearsome,

Racked with mighty storms,

Produced an unheard of music,

And Juno beamed it down to Earth:

Such music from a singing giant

Out of this world, defiant.


* Holtz, composer of ‘The Planets Suite’.

* Merlin, Radio telescope at Jodrell Bank.


Yvonne Chamberlain

September 2016





We walk and we talk.

I don’t know what to say

To help you see it my way.


I cannot find the words

To explain to you my fear.

Can’t you read my face, my dear?


Can’t you see the message there:

Down turned mouth and downcast eyes?

This face can never tell you lies.


If I can’t reach you with my words

I must find another way

To ask you please to stay.


Don’t flash me messages

With those wicked eyes,

If all they tell is only lies.


Don’t tell me that it’s all alright,

Standing there with arms fast crossed,

Body language telling me I’ve lost.


Well, now I’ll answer you

With just a shoulder shrug.

I really do not need a hug.


Actually, I really do not care

Now I’ve learnt to read your signs.

My pride you to the past assigns.


Message seen and understood.


Yvonne Chamberlain

September 2nd 2016