Casualties of War

Silence falls
As endless crosses
projected on stark modern walls
Shock those assembled within
into moved contemplation.
We don’t forget.

Bonfire Night Ashes

Loud noises
Make me feel
Relieved my dog’s not

On the Shelf

I enter the book shop and am surrounded with the presence of cherished and best-beloved clutter. Now de-cluttered and spaced out in harmonious surroundings. Laid out on the shelves like some respectful chapel of rest for those who will to come and pay their respects – as I do. Not abandoned yet ownerless. I think, when I am a presence in some biodegradable casket or lying mingled with the roots of some vibrant young whipper-snapper of a rose bush, I should feel comforted to know that my friends and companions who live upon the shelves, will find another home and a new viewpoint from someone who will love them as I do.
I feel at peace; when the time comes I will be leaving my books to the Oxfam bookshop.

No Man

Everywhere I look, I see pillars that

previously held up the world…but crumbling…

giving off faint trickles of dust.

The new supports are not yet strong enough,

defined enough, to take the strain.

In the meantime a bridge hangs as if

levitating –

its gravity-defying strength an island

in the chaotic uncertainty that surrounds it.

‘Til the end of time (Ghazal)

The essence of waiting is to quietly be
Patient, not distract, just quietly be.

Be still as the dawn and open to change,
To have courage to act on what will be.

And what if that time should still its face?
Future, no longer fact, can cease to be.

The sands will run out and the tide will turn
To make no pact – all will simply not be.

I am Helen, yet not, and one day hence
A final redact, then all I will be…

Lone watcher

Softest grey

feathers nestle in the grass.

The tree is silent…

At Tinker’s Coppice

We walk up the old railway track until we get to Tinker’s Coppice Crossing. I lean on the gate my companion by my side, “Me and Dylan used to live here Scoobs!” I realise my mistake as soon as the words have left my mouth…Scooby is gone. Dylan is too. My two boys are boxes of dust on my bookshelf. Rosie is a lovely dog but she is just borrowed for the week.
We stand there buffeted by a chill autumnal wind. Even the ivy clings on to its support for dear life – like some multi-handed tree hugger. We start to amble back home and on the ancient trees the creepers have grown conker-casing armour to keep out unwanted attention.
Looking upwards I blink as the rain fills my eyes. I feel…

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries | Slimming World Recipes & More

Weight Loss, Slimming World And My Life

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 Images, Videos, True Life Stories, Quotes, Personal Reflections and Meditations.

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