Tiny Hope

From my window I watch cars as they pass a line of box-like houses. A bus stop opposite shelters a gaggle of commuters, the fine April rain making them hunch like vultures as they wait. Next door a dog barks. Farther afield I hear children scream in carefree delight. Spring is trying to awaken, buds are forming on my neighbour’s tree and I find that my lust for milder weather, for the newness of the coming season, is palpable. Then my gaze lowers, and in the crack of the wonky paving stone that council still hasn’t fixed, I see a solitary white flower, almost hidden in its concrete bed.

A starburst of white,
Tiny masterpiece of spring,
The scent of new hope.

A little late, but Day Twelve’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo challenge was to write a haibun. I’m unfamiliar with this style but, from what I understand, it combines prose with haiku to create a beautiful tale of the landscape around us. I chose to write about the view from my window. I hope I’ve got it right… Or right-ish at least!


The Point of No Return

You picked it up,
Blade glistened
in the crisp night air
as the street lamp burned,
Threw a spotlight
on a lesson about to be learned,

The point of no return,

Sliding doors,
A future’s course
decided in the blink of an eye,
A swish and a cry,
and one boy dies
but two lives are lost,
The cost of free will,
of a choice made ill,
is a future
by iron bars and concrete walls
both real and contrived
by a fragile fraying mind
that never got to live,
Never got to grow up,
Peter Pan is out of
pixie dust,
Bright future
when your bluff was called,
You were acting tough,
Big man on the block
but you huffed and puffed
and blew your own house down,
never to be found now
under the rubble,
But truth be told,
– truth in bold –

you were asking for trouble

Sold your soul,
Rolled your dice
and pushed your luck,
The second
you picked up it.



Today’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem that addresses the future. My take on this prompt was to look at consequences, at a future based on a split second decision. I coupled it with a very current and fiercely debated topic; knife crime.

While I Wait

I wait
while dragons breathe white hot fire
into the fields of endless bluebells,
I wait for you
whilst elves set to work
knitting blades of grass,
I wait for you to come
while Gaia sings and chicks begin
to harmonise,
I wait for you to come back to me
While wizards wave their wands,
and fairies scatter rainbow dust,
so that zephyrs may dance through palettes of fatted buds,
I wait for you to come back to me
while spring’s fantasia bursts to life;
The magic of rebirth never more pure,
I wait for you to come,
And while these things thrill those battered by the grips of winter,
I wait for you,
While everyone around me embraces all that lies ahead,
I wait.

Today’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem of simultaneity – in which multiple things are happing at once.


Mountains before me,
Grown from molehills of self-doubt,
Eclipsing my stars.




Day Nine of NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo. Today we were challenged to write a poem whee something big and something small come together.  As I was busy catching up with my Day Eight challenge earlier, I have settled for a Haiku for today.  See you tomorrow.

Beauty and the Beast

Behind the door
the floorboards creak
then silence
s n e a k s
and steals my breath,
Heart beats
like a drum,



and quicker still,
I shiver as the footsteps
swell and falter,
Sweat beads alter
the taste in my mouth,
Biles rise and fall,
at the call
of the beast
as he lumbers down the hall,
And I


like blades of grass
stand tall
– steadfast,
awaiting the march,
Skin clammy
yet lips are parched,
Feet arched
toes like a butter curl,

I’m just a girl,

I’m just a girl,

Maiden in the dark,
damp and stark,
with petals
and I’m afraid,
Sanity fraying from the constant




of the chains,
I crouch down
and a draft comes now,
The door pushes ajar
and the beast emerges

at last,

Fetid urges
offend my senses and
the shadows dance,
My bed clothes
suddenly warm and wet,
sopping shame
infused with dread,

I am not yet dead,
I lament,

And as his breath
my mind unfurls,

I’m just a girl,

I’m just a girl

who prayed
in vain,

fairytale prince






A little late, but NaPoWriMo’d Day Eight challenge was to write a poem in which mysterious and magical things occur. I took the concept of Beauty and the Beast and made it darker.

Hopefully I’ll be back later with Day Nine!

Poor, Poor Joan

Another victim is brought to tears
by these antisocial miscreants,
My colleague goes to roll his eyes and,
silently, I must chastise him,
As she calls on us to stop it,
I pull a tissue from my pocket,
From his he pulls his mobile phone
and averts his eyes from poor, poor Joan.

And as she weeps, I sympathise,
But he just taps his foot and sighs,
In his head he knows we’ve walked this trail,
Recounts the times we’ve heard this tale,
We’ve heard it once, and heard it thrice,
And he’s numb to the troubles of her life,
And when we leave he’ll joke, and moan,
and deride the woes of poor, poor Joan,

I know – I do know – thick skin’s key
to wading through this treacle sea,
But I just can’t shake Joan from my mind,
I can’t not care – Lord knows I’ve tried,
So blighted by empathic ways
I take her home and let her stay,
My home is filled with Kathryns, Tonys,
Stephens, and now poor, poor Joan.

I struggled then a decade gone,
I struggle now, and struggle on,
I cannot close my mind to cope,
Can’t make their strife an inside joke,
I just don’t wish to play along,
To stay here where I don’t belong,
And truth be told, I’ve always known
my heart belongs to poor, poor Joan.




Today’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo prompt involved “writing out a list of all of your different layers of identity. For example, you might be a wife, a grandmother, a Philadelphian, a dental assistant, a rabid Phillies fan, a seamstress, retiree, agnostic, cancer survivor, etc.. These are all ways you could be described or lenses you could be viewed through. Now divide all of those things into lists of what makes you feel powerful and what makes you feel vulnerable. Now write a poem in which one of the identities from the first list contends or talks with an identity from the second list.”

I only loosely followed the prompt today, choosing to write about an longstanding internal conflict I face within my day job: Do I assimilate or stay true to myself…?


Breathe deep,
Smog sneaks
through the slither of open glass
as a concrete landscape
races past,
Skirts the path of
an undulating
Tail lights
fire fly
into my sight
with hues of bright red
Objects slink into the mirror
than I think and I
a little deeper into the faded threads
and rest my head,
the scraper
and the evening paper
in the door,
Vibrations through the floor make happy feet,
And people spill across
Phones in hand,
Eyes glued
shuffling shoes,
Carbon footprints
the city’s tune,
A hive without a mind
Hispters thrive,
Homeless survive,
Soldiers, drones and workers strive
while queen presides,
Millions of lives
like atoms that
seldom collide,
Like passing ships
in the night,
these strangers
changing lanes
remain in chains,
Slaves to doldrums,
Fleeting eyes
never meet,
Yet never
in any zone
but our own,
And still we call it home,

Today’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo prompt was to “write a poem that stretches your comfort zone with line breaks. That could be a poem with very long lines, or very short lines. Or a poem that blends the two.” I love to do this anyway, so this prompt was right up my street. Speaking of streets I spent a good chunk of the day in my car, so in this piece I was inspired by the streets of London.

Books on Love

It’s easy to find love in a book,
Kismet never reads more poetically.
It’s true granduer seems veracious.
It’s enchantment seems like a gift voluptuously made.

baiting my need for escape.

“What do you desire?”
My pneuma pulls me keenly, pleasures me knavishly.

“Yes, yes” it casts a sultry spell.
“Yes, yes” it lures
and I stay in there,


Today’s NaPoWriMo / GloPoWriMo was this:

“Write a poem that […] reacts both to photography and to words in a language not your own. Begin with a photograph. Now find a poem in a language you don’t know […] Ignore any accompanying English translation […]. Now start translating the poem into English, with the idea that the poem is actually “about” your photograph. Use the look and feel of the words in the original to guide you along as you write, while trying to describe your photograph.”

I chose a poem but Latvian poet Janis Elsbergs, which you can see below:

And my photograph is this:

It also helps that I am a bit of a bookworm, so the feelings expressed are real!


It’s never a mere
stomach knot.
It’s like a coarse frayed
entanglement of rope
that’s devoured
as it sinks
into a
molten metal mire
Fires fly
and gases rise,
Beastly belching bubbles
that swell and explode
like fireworks of fury,
All the while
an angry tremor
bellows through the scalloped chambers
that encroach upon the hypocentre,
Evey tiny movement
creates a catastrophic cacophony,
The roar of the lava
scorches an
path through all of the hollows
as it climbs
and climbs
leaving nothing behind,
but devastation
in its wake,
And in the ashy aftermath
scars are made,
Like silvered branches
they are formed
and they deform
the landscape
changing it
And they always

Today’s #NaPoWriMo / #GloPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem that is about something abstract – perhaps an ideal like “beauty” or “justice,” but which discusses or describes that abstraction in the form of relentlessly concrete nouns and adjectives. I chose to write about anxiety, something I suffer from personally. I took the simplistic idea that anxiety is like a knot in your stomach and obliterated that knot in volcanic fury! That’s more like it…. *cough*


Tomorrowland; a far off place,
The island at the top of the world,
Benji the hunted,
Now you see him, now you don’t,
Castaway cowboy,
Escape from the dark,
Midnight madness,
The black hole, the wild country,
The watcher in the woods,
Dragonslayer, wild,
Something wicked this way comes
in search of the castaways,
Into the woods
Frozen – eight below –
Hot lead and cold feet
Enchanted sky high oceans,
Aliens of the deep,
Tangled wings of life,
The haunted mansion,
Ghosts of the abyss,
Black cauldron, hocus pocus,
Brave, invincible,
Up, up, up,
Third man on the mountain:
The castaway cowboy – underdog,
The young black stallion – valiant,
The strongest man in the world – iron will,
The rescuers
The incredibles
The three musketeers,
Up, up, up glory road,
The finest hour,
Night crossing morning light
Homeward bound,
Homeward bound,
Never a dull moment.

Today’s #NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo prompt was to write a list poem. I chose to list Disney movies from across the ages to create a kind of sci-fi western short story! It’s slightly off prompt and almost mimics a prompt from a few years back when we had to incorporate song titles, and another where we had to incorporate the names of seashells!