Magnetic poetry: Leaving

It’s Saturday, the day I don’t have to find an excuse for consulting the fridge oracle. Here is a sequence of magnetic poems for the Elusive Trope’s Magnetic Poetry Saturday.


Screen Shot 2016-07-16 at 15.12.31.png

Screen Shot 2016-07-16 at 15.24.28.png

Screen Shot 2016-07-16 at 15.00.03.png

Always you leave at dusk,

blossom withered.

Listen to the rain

as cold as dark moon flowers

on the lake.


Frosty rain,

like moonlight

through deep water.

Blue wind and thick cloud

cover the lonely earth,

no root to my rose.


Will I climb that ancient rock

or wander by night river?

Some peace,

a soft song,

rustles through wild vine.

Magnet poetry

This is my first attempt at the Elusive Trope’s magnet poetry challenge. To be fair, it’s his first challenge. As usually happens when I do something for the first time, I made a bollix of it. I fiddled with it for ages trying to fit in all the suggested words before it dawned on me, it wasn’t an obligation.

Doug’s post explains how to participate in this extremely complicated, technologically challenging exercise.

Here is a link to what my magnet poem looks like. Try to imagine the words I actually used hiding behind some of the others.

And below is what it ought to have looked like.


Moonlight follows dusk

in sacred harmony,

bright frost on grass, moist moss and earth

breathe ancient poetry.

Spring said,

bloom seed,

climb vine,


never wither.