Wind and the stars

I went over the same set of words three times this morning and got three cadralore. This is the third one. Time to stop asking.

The wind rose and blew away love.
Perhaps I was lazy,
hearing music
where only the night howled.

Do you dream or sleep too deep for fantasies?
I walk forests and hear the leaves
crisp and dry underfoot.
Night and day.

More roses hang on the bushes
than the sun will ever ripen.
Too late now, the swallows have gone,
and we’re all for the dark.

Once, we thought we could stop the moon,
bring her close and hear her song.
We watch the sea now,
and how the waves creep ever higher.

The juice of summer has gone,
but we are still. Leaves fall, stars,
but who’s to say there’s truth in dead rocks
and none in dreams?

Not what you get

Sadness takes the shine off the new bauble,
scatters the fluff of thistledown,
crushes tiny insect gems into glitter,
turns spring dance into winter trudge.

Red and raw is the road beneath the moon,
as if day had never been, will never come,
bare and bald as if there had been no summer,
as if no birds had ever sung.

Sea eggs are bitter;
they rust like bolts on the beams of wrecks,
turning clear water to blood,
hatching shadow-fishes.

I whisper you diamonds,
but love wanes as it waxes,
and what we wanted was just a shot at love.
At least that’s how I remember it.

Feet cry fast as they grow into forests.
The words in my head
speak a language I don’t understand,
though it blows sweet as honey.

Sea roses forever

Sea roses forever

Sea purple or colour of roses as night falls,
picture the shadows salt-scented,
where summer swims in sweet water music.

Then the singing stops, becomes a pounding
in the head, and the whispering of imagined muses
is a blow beneath the belt.

I see the rocks beneath the satin surface
where old bitterness flows, the craggy
subterranean echoing with a distant cry.

I will arm myself with forests,
cloak my shoulders in diamond spray
and a thousand fallen stars.

I will not sleep
until the blue of serenity fills
the ocean-sky depths again.

Perhaps this was the message
in the wordless cry, not despair
but a call to arms, to run, to fly

and cast a soft shadow mantle
over the spreading stain of black and red,
sow the green of hope.


I tried the new ‘Happiness’ word set, and frankly, I’m not overjoyed. Three ‘happiness’, plus a ‘happy’, a ‘laugh’, two ‘laughter’, two ‘rainbow’ endless ‘sun’, ‘shine’ and ‘sunshine’ and there’s even a single tile of ‘blue sky’. There is such a thing as egging the pudding.

Happiness by the yard

The warmth of between shines
beneath the dark above.
shall we try for wonder,
the full sunshines of the weather report?
Will she give her heart to this one or to that?

All this dancing together hand in hand,
this spring of love and laughter
sounds like wishing, a desire to be surprised
by everything.

Life must be fun,
a procession of days without rain,
endless smiles, starry skies,
and we always dare to eat that peach.

Bluebirds and rainbows, unicorns too, no doubt
and love-flowers press us to enjoy, look away
and forget.

But barefoot bliss is strewn with the jagged fragments
of those dreams that never came true,
the nagging hand in the back,
pushing to the edge and whispering,

Drum beats

We lost internet Wednesday so I missed prompts. The dverse prompt was to write a chant poem. I saw it last night and wrote a response. I wasn’t feeling very good, so it reflected how I felt, I suppose.
This morning I consulted the Oracle, still feeling completely washed out, and she gave me a poem that’s practically the same as the one I wrote last night. Hmm.

Drums roll

Drums roll in this dark sky
and in this deep earth
and they roll and roll
in the silence of my head.

Sky is dark and dark is the drumming
holes punched in the night
and the light streaming through
comes from a world’s lifetime away.

Dark drums roll
through the hole in my head
that lets the light stream
like sand from my hand

and they wink in time
the stars in the sky-light
to the martial beat
just pips in the night.

The beat (in collaboration with the Oracle)

The beat is bitter
drums in my head
raking coarse fingers
through the garden of growing things
red water pouring among the lilies.

Even the sun sweats
cloud tears crushing the light
into pink fragments at dusk.

Is there life in this tongue
that screams through the rain spray
where swallows soared

or did it wash away among the lilies
and the debris of the roses?

The blue wave over the hill

Quick visit to the Oracle. We’re on the edge of a gale that has loosened the phone wires outside the house and internet is dodgy. I sense something wild in her tone this morning. Relief, maybe?



Ask (again, how many times?)
do we dance,
or do we scurry-slip back into the dark hole?

Is home this state of grey,
or can we aspire to the red of passion
and the life surge?

The blue breeze has broken over the hill,
racing over green grass,
looking for its heart perhaps
in the shadows left by lingering night.

Engendered by the ocean,
it rolls in waves of morning,
fierce and bright as the gulls’ cry,
as the salt tang,
silver fish leaping in its breath,
winged and scaled,
holding up the sky
so that all things may wake.

Star dance and shadow fall


Do you recallScreen Shot 2017-08-12 at 12.23.51

how sweet it was, the rain?

We used to watch it play

mist music on the sea,

singing light on the water.

I wonder why the shadows

had to fall?



Air,Screen Shot 2017-08-12 at 14.15.46

almost cloud,

colour of smoke and joy,

sails over oceans,

blushes in dawn light,

fills the sky with peace.

Listen to the magic wake.


Another star dances for you,Screen Shot 2017-08-12 at 14.32.37

though the old one still blooms

in the night,

keeping time with your heart,

touching the sky

with morning wings,

if only you had the eyes to see.


Light climbs between the leaves,Screen Shot 2017-08-12 at 14.47.23

wind breathes its secrets,

rain rustles, a quiet murmur.

Wait too long

and you will see

the withered blossom

fall from the tree.