Garden – 3/5/18

The will to live’s in a garden, when you give a plant a home,

The plant will do its best, even if the soil is not its own.

Take a garden and mother it, mostly it will behave,

And even the temperamental, you will do your best to save.




The Letter I Will Not Send – 5/3/18

I am writing this from a place of sun and trumpets,
Yes there is a slight breeze, isn’t there always?
On such a day as this, there is no phrase that springs to mind,
Original. Anyway.
I wanted to say, this is just a note to say…
I have held these words on the tip of my tongue so many times,
I wanted to let them drip,
I wanted to tell you.
So this is just a note to say.
I’m glad I told you once, at least, this letter being my pigeon,
Frantically flapping it’s wings against an impenetrable wall of air, wild eyes in grey weather,
Pigeons are not the most reliable. There is no path by sea or sky to where you are.
As I said before, this has wanted to spill from me to you so often, and I
would have let it,
I would be that first hammer to the dam any day,
Especially on such a day as this,
But you are not here to be drenched with these words,
None of you are here,
So this is just a note to say.


I’m too late to link this to dVerse, but it was a great prompt 😊

In The Valley – 3/10/17

I randomly stumbled upon a quote that went something like this; you won’t remember mowing the lawn or going to work, so go climb that mountain! And it got me thinking about the little things in life, so this is sort of my response to that quote, because we can’t always be climbing mountains. 

I might remember when I mowed the lawn, pushing the monster through the tangled green, wearing black gumboots and a red face, the giant hum shielding my ears from all other sounds and the daisies cheeky, never cut, for they are too low to the ground.

I might remember when I curled exhausted in the chair and closed my eyes, and the air swirled outside my eyelids, dark green, and red and splashes of yellow around the mahogany furniture. And when I opened my eyes my eyelashes swept up against my curled fingers that were propping up my face.

And I might remember how every time I highlight text electronically, no matter how many colours I used last time; green for common use, yellow for sub-points and blue for quotes, it always stains dark pink when I start again, because that is always the colour I used last, the colour of extremely important points.




Information – 21/9/17

The desk is clear, dark,

One defined yellow square, post-it note,

Stuck there. Leaning down, I tear it sharply,

Pencil scribbles, just made out,

Says “Call back the dentist.”

I toss it and it floats curving,

A yellow square on the floor, two centimetres from the bin.


Prompt from Poetic Asides to write an information poem, remembering that not all information is created equal.