The germ of a poetic idea

The other day I posted a poem inspired by a twitter duel begun by Harriet Goodchild. Here are Harriet’s first phrases, the ones that started it off. Please visit her blog to read some of her stories, and for details of her beautiful novels.

Hills cradle the light
Reaching their fringed fingers out
To cup the sunset

It grows late, he says
Shadows wax long:
Love, let me come in.

At your back, she says,
No shadow falls:
Love, I’ll not let you in.

©Harriet Goodchild

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

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