A Poem A Day – January

Ingrid at Experiments in Fiction can be found on Twitter @Experimentsinfc. She has started A Poem A Day challenge over where the bluebird flies – tweet a poem every day. When I first read her post about it I was very clear with myself that I was not going to get sucked into that! However, here we are. Not quite a poem a day, but here is my January poetry diary – in no particular order, just what Twitter threw up.

Dawn slumps in
doesn’t meet
my eye

left her fags
in the kitchen
last night

no matches
no light

still exhales

Let’s go as close
to the edge
as we can –

to where the sand
and the sea
and the sky
and the sand
and the spray

are one great
glorious roar
of wildness

last night
a lemon-peel moon,
this morning, frost
and hungry birds

and all those branches
scratching at the sky
begging for light

and it’s always hard
to step into coldness
yes but you must

the wood
silent as
a temple

a hare
racing like
a heartbeat

the sound of starlings
wheeling and whorling –
that rustle is winter

pause listen

and it’s easy
to wake before
the sun

to lie
in the
sullen dark

the world

the world
with the sound
of water
running water
all life
and movement

filling the house
with the scent of spice
cinnamon and ginger
cardamom and cloves
warmth worth its weight
in gold

not even sure
the sun
is rising

the sky
all sludge
and river mud

if you could
plunge your arms
into those clouds

they’d come out

Press your fingertip
into the clay
and map the
of your story

contour lines
like a labyrinth

we are all
seeking the
silent centre

on my chest

not the gale
or the rain

not pain
or grief
or fear
or anything

just the night
in my ear

what kind
of fool
keeps a wolf
in a cage
of bone?

not enough thread
to stitch
my story together

leave it


free to fly
with the wind

everything screams
be alive

the hail
shouts into
my face

the wind
grabs me
shakes me

the sea roars

be alive
be alive
be alive

the world
moth wing
the sky
tasting of
I could crush
these clouds
silver juice
with snow

I love
the suddenness
of flames

how they open out

how they create

our footprints
melted in
the sunlight

as if we’d never
walked together
up the lane
beyond the

the world ends
at the end
of the lane

beyond there

things with
teeth and claws

the absence
of colour



I don’t know

I turn back
I’m forced
to see

I am a comma
curving a brief
pause into
the word flow
of the day
round the lines
the stories

January – haibun for dVerse

We walked up the lane under the flat January sky, and stopped at the gate of the top field to watch the fieldfare feeding. At first you just see a crowd of birds, some on the ground, some fluttering just above it. After a while, you realise there’s a pattern to this: the birds are all facing the same way. The ones at the back flutter over the flock to settle at the front and feed there, and that’s happening continually, so that they gradually roll across the field. A few moments after we arrived, they suddenly all lifted up, and formed a spiralling cloud that made its way over to a neighbouring tree.

January is the month of flocks of birds. We had a great murmuration of starlings rustle over us this afternoon, and the field by the pond is white with herring gulls. Even the rooks are keeping closer together than usual. Strength in numbers at this hollow time of year.

starlings’ wings whisper
wind rattles naked seed pods
tales of the north wind

Everything’s a little out of kilter this week, but I’m trying to catch up! This is for Monday’s dVerse haibun prompt – thank you, Kim, for making me look more closely at January, and finding some beauty there.