I had a heart and gave it you

For dVerse, the theme is ‘heart’, the form is a minute poem, though I think I’ve added an extra stanza.


I had a heart and gave it you:

In gold and blue,

I painted love,

In skies above.


You took it, put it in a cage,

Not in a rage:

Its song was sweet,

Its life was fleet.


You crushed my wings behind the bars:

No moon, no stars

Could comfort me

Nor set me free.


You took my heart, a little thing:

You made it sing,

Until the day

It flew away.

The words I couldn’t say

A string of verses on a thread of twitter prompts.


The words I couldn’t say,

I hear them in the wind

and in the falling leaves,

but they mutter loudest in the raindrops,

dripping from the eaves.


I let you go because you wouldn’t stay,

the ties that bind all came undone,

floating like silver gossamer in the breeze.


You wouldn’t give me back my heart,

A keepsake, you said with a tragic air.

But you will forget, let its fluttering die,

a dull brown bird

with no song to sing.


Should I have known and raised my guard,

a carapace of tempered steel,

against the sweet words and soft looks you shot my way?

Can any heart become stone at will,

and the song in the blood a battle cry?


Had I held myself aloof

and turned away the fiery flow,

I would not have known the pain of broken dreams,

but nor would I have seen blue horses running,

and firebirds paint the sky with flame.

Hanging by a thread

The Daily Post prompt is: fragile.


The year hangs by a golden thread,

Though soft we tread,

The apple falls,

When winter calls.


The leaf hangs by a withered stalk,

The plunging hawk

Could tear it free,

With fierce bird glee.


My heart hangs by such fragile ties,

Tissues of lies,

I daren’t let go,

Still love you so.

She looks into his heart’s depths


To look through your eyes,

Down through the shifting clouds of green,

To find the bright unchanging centre,

Beating with the heart’s steady pulse.

To touch the warm waves that flow,

Dolphin-leaping from that deep sea,

Delve into the storeroom of your richest treasures

And see in the silver water mirror

A reflection of my smiling face.

Her heart brims over


Is it pleasure or love the heart feels

Or something even deeper?

A look, a touch, a word,

A falling leaf,

A note of birdsong,

Cloud patterns across a broad blue sky

Spark an indefinable something

That fills the spirit full of glory.

The giving and receiving

Emptying and filling

So full its light brims over

And shines through the eyes and the body’s pores.

Love, is it?

Love of so much so many.

It soars with eagles and mist-white gulls

and curls with you in your fox-warm earth.

She names the colours of the world

Morning paints the sky the palest rose

Mist curls pearl along the riverbank

Tender green each unfurling leaf

Turquoise blue the evening sky

And the robin’s egg in the dark tree shade.

Red the fire, the embers’ glow

The blood on the snow when the hunters pass

Red tints the petals of the thorned rose

The ruby dragged from its rocky bed.

But reddest of all is the heart I give

With all its pleasure and its pain

If you can bear its sunburst fire

And drowning waves of subtle moonshine

Its shooting showers of starry sparks.

If you can bear to hold such passion

In the tender curve of your hands.


Attribution: Margret Hofheinz-Döring/ Galerie Brigitte Mauch Göppingen
Attribution: Margret Hofheinz-Döring/ Galerie Brigitte Mauch Göppingen