Blue – for dVerse Tuesday poetics

We came over the ridge
and paused for a moment –
the sea was impossibly blue,
and the sky was, too.

You took my hand.

It was hard to know
where one thing stopped
and the next began,
it was all just blue.

The kelp in the water moved
as if it was stirred by the wind,
and the grass moved around us,
caught in a current

and you took my hand.




I’m hosting at dVerse tonight, and I’m really excited to be sharing the art of Fay Collins with you tonight. This is the poem inspired by this picture. Please check out dVerse for more poems, and Fay’s site for more glorious paintings. floating seaweed


Small Journey


There were footprints in the snow,
some animal, out of necessity –
it must have been necessity, to
drag it out of some warm hole,
some place of comfort; warm fur;
warm breath from a mate, a cub, a kitten –

out of necessity, then, making
a hungry quest for something to take back
to that curled mate, that hungry child.

This was no pampered pet, not out here
in these quiet woods. A well fed cat
sits at the window on a day like this,
or ventures out across the lawn
and then heads home, to basket, fire, food;
and I don’t think a dog would walk
so cleanly through the snow. I’m thinking
fox, and half expecting blood, fur, feathers.

Our quest was just for beauty. That is all.
We came out here to see the light
dance on the snow, the shadows fall –
crisp, blue cut-outs – on the shimmering white.
We found it, and this little story.

Let’s go home.


This is for the dVerse prompt, where Mish offers us a beautiful selection of photographs by Sharon Knight at her website: This image is called Small Journey.

Grace days

These are our grace days,
unpaid for, uncosted,
slipping by unnoticed…

days when the world shrinks
to this warm space, this
soft blanket…

days that are wrapped in snow,
or chanced upon, days that fall
as gifts into our laps…

days uncounted, secret days,
days that slip by like swans
silently moving down a river.



For Paul, at dVerse, who asks us to consider “grace”. Or possibly “Grace”…


These visits stretch me out, thin as skin,

and numb me like scar tissue.

These visits smell of fear, and grief,

and there is anxiety pooled

in these uncomfortable seats.

I curl up in my own head,

and let my body float beneath me,

accept touch, pressure,

kindness. I move as instructed,

let myself be heavy.

We are old hands here.


This is for dVerse, where Lillian asks us to think about visits.



Up and away – dVerse

Up and away
I want to fly away with you
Up and away
This world is dull, and tired, and grey
But with a bunch of bright balloons
We can take a rainbow honeymoon
Up and away

A rondelet. I don’t know what’s come over me. The image was found by Lillian over at dVerse. She found it on Pixabay, and is pondering graffiti art, as she plans what sounds like an amazing trip. It’s cold and dark and damp here, and I’m feeling a little bit jealous, so I’ve gone for something light and bright and fluffy to cheer myself up. My explanation is now far longer than my poem, so perhaps I should shut up!

Psycho – for dVerse

Come in, take a seat, observe my domain –
You can see I don’t do this for financial gain!
So why do I do it? The thrill of the power
I feel as I sit here for hour after hour…

Hey, right at the start I let her decide,
If she wants to commit, then she’s in for the ride,
And I’m always surprised when they say that they will –
Why do they do it? I guess it’s THEIR thrill.

I’m reeling her in now, taking it slow,
Step by step, feeling how far she will go –
If she’s silly enough to get caught in my net,
Then I’m sorry, my friend, she deserves all she gets,

Her parents are blind, they just do not see
Her boredom, depression, her teenage ennui,
And her friends let her down. But I’m always there –
And the comedy is, that she thinks that I care.

And you’d be surprised at the things that she’ll try,
Random instructions from some random guy,
Yeah, you’ll be surprised at the things that she’ll do,
The pain she will take if I’m telling her to:

If I tell her to cut, watch her pick up the knife,
If I tell her to jump, watch her offer her life,
And I feel like a god, as I sit in my room,
Fingers on keyboard, dictating her doom.


We were talking at work yesterday about a sick social media game that encourages young people to experiment with self harm and suicide. I’m not going to name it. If you’ve heard of it, you’ve heard of it. If you haven’t, it needs no publicity from me. Modern day evil for dVerse where we are asked to offer a dramatic monologue in the style of  The Laboratory by Robert Browning.