I am the last of the three
and the power in me
is the power of time
that crumbles all,
the power of root,
that carves all,
the power of wind,
that wears all.

I will walk through
the dark of the year,
and you will hear
my footsteps echo
on hard ground,
and my words will
whisper in the whirling wind.

I am the last of the three,
the one who bears
the winding sheet,
the one who stands
in the doorway,
and my strength is
the strength of the
tree enduring,
the fire burning,
the storm raging,
the night consuming.

Happy Samhain, Halloween, Day of the Dead, whatever. Bjorn has asked us to write from the point of view of a monster. I’m paying tribute to the third, and darkest, aspect of the triple goddess – the Crone. Hard to love a crone.

Head over to dVerse for some spooky Halloweeny poetry…


Kindness – haibun for dVerse

I watch you supporting your  mother with strong, gentle hands. You’ve thought about this restaurant, you’ve chosen a place where we can manoeuvre the wheelchair easily, where she’ll like the food, where she can look out over the sea and a place she came as a child. It’s lovely here. The sun is shining, the autumn leaves are red and gold against the blue sky. After lunch we wheel your mother down to the seafront, and buy soft, white ice-cream, and she talks about her memories of coming here as a young girl. I watch you listening to her, and I love you for your kindness.

Leaves dance against blue
Sun sparkles on blue water
Remember summer


Her dress was blue –
forget-me-not –
and her eyes were blue –

She hides in the long grass
down by the pond,
peeking through the green stripes,
watching us.

She sits at the edge
of the lawn, under
the hedge, snuggling
into the shade.

She strings chains of
daisies, white against
her blue dress.



Autumn mist II

We use round words to talk

about mist – it rolls, coils,

boils. This mist

is thin and still,

a silence. We talk about


as if it is an animal –

it creeps and tiptoes,

pads on little paws –

but this mist is a place,

and we live in it.


I’m still exploring mist! For Kim at dVerse. I’m now wondering if I can amalgamate these poems??


Autumn for dVerse

Mist spills

From each long

Cleft valley. 


We are cocooned


Rise up from

This place

Where the land

Holds us

Gently into

Clarity, look

Across the cold

Burning world,

Mist spilling

From each long

Cleft valley,

Cold sun


For Kim at DVerAutumnse – an Autumn prompt. Round about now.


Water – haibun for dVerse

I don’t know quite how this became our “thing”. We took up the challenge – encouraging each other, competing a little bit – kept up monthly swims all summer, all winter, and all summer again. Now it’s autumn, and we’re still at it. There have been high winds this week, and the surf is big. The clouds are low, and there’s so much spray it’s hard to know where the air ends and the sea begins. It’s a monochrome day as we walk in together, feeling the cold – “It’s not so bad!” – rising over ankles, calves, knees, thighs, hips – and then the final dive under a rolling wave, and the triumphant resurfacing.

Grey clouds, grey sea –
petrel hanging above water –
plunging into life



Bjorn is tending bar at dVerse tonight. He wants a watery haibun, with a seasonal haiku. I want a hot whiskey after that. 


Renga ~1 sarah/qbit

These days the bus is always late
But someone handed me a flyer saying “HOPE”

Some instinct makes me read instead of toss –
“Ha’penny Oracle, Promise everlasting”

It’s getting dark, and rain is trickling
Down my neck. I need a promise

I turn towards warmth to get some faith
But numpty publican calls “Time!”

Fat assed idiot, that’s him. You’d think
A man might have a little charity.

With rancid slang I have to face
A bitter truth or two

There is more truth in bitter
Than all your whiskey lies

Salvation Army up the road
And a cup of tea

Tambourine oracle
Jingling promises

Jangling bones
Shaking like dice, ready to roll

Ice cubes rattle in a glass
Rain rattles on the window

I drain the hope, slog the queue,
The bus is still late



Tah dah! The finished piece – a collaboration between me (thanking you) and qbit, who is a bit of a star. This was for Jilly’s October Challenge


Renga challenge #1

These days the bus is always late
But someone handed me a flyer saying “HOPE”



This is for Jilly’s October challenge, put out in the hope that qbit will take me up on the offer. If anybody else wants to do it, you’re very welcome. Basically, we take it in turns to add a couplet until we  have 10 couplets. You can find the one I did with qbit here.



Somehow the fridge is always full

of leftovers, as if we meant

to eat another meal – because we meant

to eat another meal, and yet

we’re not that organised,

mealtimes kaleidoscope,

and all  my good intentions

are left in little bowls

with little lids, or out

on side plates, wrapped in

tinfoil. I can never work them out,

work them right through.

I wait for time to waste them,

then discard them


The very wonderful Lillian is hosting at dVerse, asking us to seek inspiration from our fridge. As you can see, I seek inspiration there on a regular basis, and don’t always find it.


Trust me – RTMM

Alice said “Trust me”,
like I had a choice –
like it was not just
her and me, backed in a corner –
no loopholes here, no
rabbit hole, no looking glass,
no tiny door locked
with a tiny key…

all the same, Alice said
“Trust me”, and her face
had that expression on it –
that one that conjures
aging knights in rusty armour,
that finds a seat at any table,
that laughs at pompous people
and their pompous ways

and so I trusted her.



Riding the mushroom again.  I’m making the most of these prompts – they finish at the end of the year…