03 April 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: say that again? — For days it looks like nothing is going on, but a single ray of light can make a huge difference, and have a complete metamorphosis. The once young wound, has now large and colourful wings, and three good things happen. The first one is that it cannot grow any further…

Gratitude brought into the present moment — Beneath the window I daily love to look out, scattered mementos rest in peaceful carefree repose. Objects I’ve collected on many a walk or outing as a tangible reminder of the joy felt in my discovery— a myriad of variegated stones both smooth and rough, bits of tufted moss, brittle…

In which I remember the one story that… —

24 March 2021 Wednesday Prose Poem: the weight of ink — Words, once heavy, weighted with parchment and the mutterings of an iron pen beneath furrowed brow or typeset letters sculpting a monument of ink and leather, now relegated to invisible virtual reality within the parameters of digital qwerty access, carrying a different sort of weight not established by the physicality…

20 March 2021 Saturday Poetry Prompt: out of the way — I have this drawer — you might know the one—top right side of the desk (maybe yours is bottom left), easy-access, purporting to be useful yet serving no real purpose, craving attention yet I lack the guts or inclination to deal with it. So it grows and grows, a wasteland…

Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: what wounds look like as they heal — Scabs, scars, bruises, calluses — in a perfect world these don’t exist; in this world, however, they are the invariable hallmark of her haphazard healing. Wounds dug deep, deliberately carved with piercing stabs into granite surfaces, bleeding crystal tears yet longing for restoration, ignoring the utter devastation inflicted by her…

Reminded by breath — Breathing shows me that I am not alone — breath is life breath is a miracle, and as long as it indwells my fragile fleshly shell I am not alone. Breathing in this moment, breathing out the baggage — breath by breath, each aspiration a steady pace, transcending the pain, instilling a…

A letter to my younger self — Dear little girl, It’s not your fault your talents were suppressed, scolded, snipped at the sign of the first green shoot. It’s not your fault your questions were not welcomed but shunned, feared, ignored, it’s not your fault your doubts were demonized to the point of timid compliance. It’s not your fault, dear…

A poem about journeying toward hope — Sitting here late on a winter night I’m wondering about fate and things If a life can pass by unlived, in a blink If there will ever be peace on earth. I used to see the stars, my gaze unhindered But that was before the coming of her The nocturnal lover of…