Black violets

A sequence of short poems on a dark theme.

Photo ©Rennett Stowe




Black violets clutched in your fist,

Cloying perfume from beyond the dark,

No light in your eyes,

No words on your tongue,

To answer a silent plea,

Hope that claws from a hollow heart,

Take me back to your shadows.


Lunar landscape of my heart,

Crawls with black holes of despair,

Where even screams are silent,

Smothered in fog and filthy air.


The silence between us is heavy as lead,

Black as pitch,

And cold as an arctic wind,

Yet I remember,

How once it was red with passion,

Fierce as a vengeful robin,

And light as a summer breeze.


Water pocked

with raindrops pitted

quicksilver flowing

and filling so fast

I lose track of the reason

you left me here

with empty hands

in the falling rain.



Four short poems.

painting ©mr-art.


No escape, no release

from this dull pain,

from this dark, sunless place

where you are not,

no choice but oblivion,

the leap into the void,

the final abyss.


Which, then, will disperse?

The boiling black clouds of perpetual anger,

or the wind-buffeted gulls,

white winged phantoms of joy?


Hovering on the brink,


do I plunge into chaos

where you have fallen,

or soar with the white gulls

into the bright morning?


I drop my heart into the pool,

black water that has with no end.

The ripples widen

to touch the shore,

then nothing.

No pale gleam of hidden light,

the sound of sorrow,

waves lapping.

Microfiction: Let there be light

Another 99 word fairy tale for Charli’s Carrot ranch writing prompt


Once upon a time the world was dark, and people lived in fear of things that went bump and things with sharp teeth and claws. A little girl sat in a corner out of the way of blundering feet, listening to the mutterings and the scufflings, waiting until she was big enough to help the people get over their fear. On her sixth birthday she decided she was big enough. She felt her way around the room until she found the place, then she reached up high, as high as ever she could, and she turned on the light.

I would banish sorrow

A sequence of short  four-line poems inspired by twitter prompts, linked by the theme of loss, darkness, and the hope of spring.

Pressed flowers © DENG Yingyu 鄧盈玉


I would banish sorrow to the dark corners,

To weep into the dust alone,

Draw the silent curtains of twilight round my head,

But those dark corners are so crowded now.


Blackbird hangs his head in silence,

And leaves the highest branches to the glorious robin.

Among the hoary leaves sustenance shivers.

He shakes his plumes at the cold, the silver notes trickling.


Smoke in the hall, fire in the wind,

Sorrow even in the robin’s call,

For the year is falling into the dark,

No light but our pale candles.


Your voice was sweet as honey,

Soft as sunlight on the skin,

But your words were barbed as a dead rose branch,

False as the gaudy bird cherry.


The year is falling, the darkness deepening,

And the light in the east, no more than a brighter candle.

You took the sun, the last handfuls of golden leaves,

And left the mouldering corpse of fog-drenched autumn.


Bring back the light,

Quicken the seed beneath the dank, dead leaves,

Blackbird, remember your song, your spring voice,

For the year is turning, the darkest times closing.


You took away the light,

Fled with the wintering birds.

The geese will return.

Will you?


In the land of midnight

Painting Edward Simmons


In the land of midnight,
Sand trickles black into an inky sea,
Reflecting the darkness of deep space,
That swallows the light of the stars.
In the land of midnight,
Water runs silent and swift,
Cascading in mists of darkness,
Into chasms, kelp-green, endless as the earth,
Echoing with mer-laughter.

Land of midnight fades,
Dark water, sand sliding,
Furrowed and tressed and tinged with gold,
Slipping through anguished fingers,
For in the land of morning,
Gold, pink, impossibly fierce, sunlit,
That hurts the eye, crackling dry,
Brilliance of diamond dew, exploding flame-hot,
You are not.

Autumn gone


The year is sinking into the dark

Behind the clouds boiling like lead

Pouring their molten grief

Into the river’s mists.

The wind is rising in the trees

Tearing with cold teeth the last living leaves

Tossing bundles of brown feathers

Into hungry drifts

Where did it go, the golden autumn light

That lit the leaves with flame?

Beyond the unseen horizon

Barred by the rain’s steely shafts

Lost now, quenched by the dark

Remembered in the robin’s bright song.

After the rain


There is nothing more uplifting

Than the sight of sunlight through the clouds

A golden torrent pouring from the broad sky’s sea

Turning the last drops of cold lead rain

To a river of cascading gems.

And when the trees are bathed in liquid light

From among the dripping leaves the music starts,

Triumphant robins shout their riotous notes

And listening enraptured we can forget

Just for the time of a small bird’s song

That winter lies on the dark side of the sky.

A Christmas wish


Earth turns to face its longest night

carrying us furthest from the sun

and cities fill with light to chase the dark,

take our fears and give us tinsel in exchange.

But when the longest night is done

and we journey back towards the brighter days

let us not forget the dark that lies in wait

should tinsel take the place of wonder and respect,

not take the earth into the endless night

but bring all things to birth in another spring.