The answer


There are days without sun

sorrows with no name

hearts with no home

and homes with no heart.

There are names without meaning

meanings with no heart

suns with no fire

fire with no heart.

There are heads with no questions

and questions with no answers.

The world turns in circles

widening to infinity

infinitely questioning

the motion and stasis

of life and death

and the answer to why?

Yet I know that if

through all the infinite vastness

the ripples would contract

and the circles recede

to gather in the cupped palms

of my hands

the answer would fall



This time

It’s Magnetic Saturday, time to play with the magnets and listen to the oracle. After sending a couple of sweet messages, the oracle clammed up and refused to give me the words I wanted. Just goes to show that these magnetic poems are not entirely the poet’s creation. I had to finish this one free hand.


Why is the path so longscreen-shot-2016-10-01-at-16-26-42

from here to there?

And dark the wind

as rain rustles softly?

Where do you wander

deep in the night

when the moon grows lonely

and I sleep gentle?

The answers lie in the morning,

in the dew on the roses,

when I look in your face,

and you take my hand,

and you say,

This time, this day

and the night that will follow,


Drink, said the muse

A poem for Margot, the queen of blackbirds, whose Easter eggs hatched over the weekend, inspired by the Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. This week’s words are:



Drink, said the muse and you will know,

Look for the flame-lettered sign on the wall.

I own I saw no great symbol there,

Or tasted honey in that cup at all.

Watch my lips, said the priest, and believe,

The test of your faith; you must take my word.

I own I saw only a puppet leer,

And the wind in the reeds was all I heard.

The blackbird sings when the spring buds burst,

He sings his heartsong in a voice so clear.

I own I see roses in the sweet notes falling,

And the scent of pure love in what I hear.

Drink of this potion and know the answers,

Blown in the breeze as it ruffles the sedge,

Caught in the dewdrops that spangle the roses,

In blackbird’s sweet voice as he sings in the hedge.

The answer

This poem is for the Secret Keeper’s poetry prompt. This week’s words are:


Photo ©Forest and Kim Starr


I wait for you beneath the bower,

Where we always meet, where the roses grow,

I know the question you will ask me,

Will I accept or tell you no.


I’ll walk with you to the wide world’s end,

Till rivers run dry and birds’ songs cease,

Through tears and laughter, but tie me with vows,

I’ll open my cage and take my release.