Dance of Nature

(photo credit:

Russet attired dancers line garden walls,
The base of the hedgerows; they wait their turn,
Skirts gently fluttering. First one side then
The other take a twirl in the centre
Before spinning together – a rustic
Version of ‘Strip the Willow’…strip the oak,
Stripped is the ash.
Their overcoats have been shed to adorn
Another day,
Another place.
Rather beautiful this dance of nature.

A melancholy blush

melancholy blush

Does that
melancholy blush
betray a wistful yearning
for summer lost?

The day after the night before

And so we’ve survived.
The roof hasn’t blown off (unfortunately as we could have done with a new one on the insurance!). The rickety old fence still stands by the garage and my small green waste bin resides in its usual place under the open porch roof. I was convinced that I could hear it making a quick getaway last night. Instead the gales have upended the large recycling bin like the afterthought of a child in a temper.
We seem to have topped the league tables for the power of the beast’s roar at 99mph, and we have flattened beach huts under a piece of cliff that has decided to stop clinging to the rest.
As I tentatively drive to take my parents to their doctor’s appointment, I notice that a modern bungalow up the road has inherited an old chimney that has landed on their front wall.

After the Great Storm of 2013

Between the vast
watercolour puddles of indigo cloud
there appears the faint hint of
an apologetic rainbow.

In the Shadows

My disappointed self
Allows just a glimmer
Of light to illuminate
The vulnerable part
Of me. Within that
Insubstantial beam
I see the truth and it hurts.
Switching off the lamp, I
Let it rest back in the
Comforting Shadow-world.

7 Word Sunday x2 – At the mercy of the Elements

Waiting anxiously – trepidation palpable now – hurricane approaches!

Feeling quite relieved – her party plans abandoned…


Six words for Saturday
Sitting on a sofa – intruder enters…

Boulder version
Half an hour into Saturday and I hear a tale that sends a shiver through my shoulders and I wish that I weren’t so far away.
Helplessly I listen; many questions start to flood yet, before I can ask, she has to go out in the darkness to look for their drunken intruder. A while later, not knowing whether it is the right thing…the right time…I send a text.
‘Please ring.’
Swiftly I get a response. They’ve all gone to bed and she’ll ring me in the morning.
I tell her that I love her.

After a moment she replies that she loves me too.

Face to Face

She pulls a face and when she spots my quizzical look replies “Snap Chatting – haven’t you ever seen anyone in the street going like this?” She pulls a grimace
She carries on looking at her phone and pulling faces. I find myself mesmerised and then realise that unconsciously I have been copying. Hope no-one was looking through the window at our mad house!

The Bard of Vectis

Taking his throne on the cajon, the Bard looks around the circle and sees all eyes are focussed on him. The tales he must weave must be as enthralling as those he recounts from Scheherazade. The canopy of silken scarves above and the pile of sumptuous cushions within the circle add to the ambiance of the night as we listen transported to a far distant time of Caliphs and magic carpets and thieves that hide in jars. The room is dimly lit from a twinkle of fairy lights draped to one side and flickering candle-light whether real or imagined who can tell?
All too soon the tales are told and the palace walls fade into rows of bookshelves while seas filled with mythical creatures transform to the beanbags and pillows on the library floor.
Some of the magic remains however to send dreams of adventure and longing in the deep stillness of the night.

Cardboard City

Cardboard city
Giant bricks of a
cardboard nature
stack up every-
where you turn.
Precious items
relegated to
darkest corners
inside these monoliths.
I hope that we will
be reunited one day,
but I can’t help feeling
a slight anxious pang
as these identical boxes
are carted off to the
great cardboard mountain.
Let us hope that the labels
don’t become detached…

Previous Older Entries | Slimming World Recipes & More

Food blog with healthy recipes and Slimming World information

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

Prattle & Snap

photography, craft, nature

creativity in motion

Blog of Registered Board Certified Art Therapist Gretchen Miller, MA, ATR-BC


Tabby Cats Are The New Black

Bob Israel Photography: Blog

Fleeting impressions seared into my soul...tiny pebbles tossed into the surge


Short stories by Emma Brown

Inion N. Mathair


Kindness Blog

#Kindness Changes Everything

Wuji Seshat

Selected Poems

poetry by skull

The Musings of N. E. Skull


the epic blog of a father of twins

Pennsylvania Alliance for Clean Water and Air

Dedicated citizens fighting to protect our most valuable resources.

ann johnson-murphree

Artist, Writer of Confessional Free Verse Poetry and Fiction

Being Margaret

A lighthearted look at life on any given day


Art is our home. This door is open, always, to all, and yet permits not the entry of draft or rain. The doused may find solace, and repose, in the warmth of this hearth. For the sparks of these words - the spectres conjured by its incandescence - are a family whose love is unconditional, and will ever blaze, kindling within us the faith to weather these tempests. The ashes may then be scattered upon the winds - to ignite the lost, and unify our souls as one, in unquenched illumination; to be the light which guides us home, through the darkest of eclipse.


a day in the life of my sketchbook...

Mister G Kids

A daily comic about real stuff little kids say in school. By Matt Gajdoš