Letting go


When the world slips into night

and the fire dies, the cold creeps,

and the rustling among the trees

might be leaves and it might not,

reality dims.

The here, the now,

the present moment floats,

and the hand grasps at empty space.

Words hang, a soft breath,


their modelling blurred,

and the hare that runs

through the light cast by the window

is faint as a ghost,

a piece of night

with another world in its eyes.


A Month with Yeats: Day Ten

A third of the way through, today’s quote is from ‘The Host of the Air.’

‘And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,’  W.B. Yeats.


In the rushes by the bank, she glides,

The swan on the empty lake,

From the gold-tipped points of morning

To the dusk where shadows break,

And she lays her long neck sadly

In the hollow of her wings,

For the tide brings only night time

And the dark, when no bird sings.

Screech owl cries

A Rhyme Royal for the dverse prompt this evening. Prompted by the sound of hunting owls, so loud at nightfall here.

Image ©Art Siegel


The first stars wake in autumn evening’s sky,

The sun has set long since, and hushed the air,

Beneath the earth, the night-touched creatures lie,

And wait for dark to leave their hidden lair.

The weeping in the house, too hard to bear,

I listen, ’neath the stars as darkness spreads,

And shiver at owl’s cry, what each heart dreads.


The moving finger stops above the roof,

Feathered portent perches high and screams.

We quail, as if we needed no more proof,

Our worst fears come to roost above the beams,

Death walks among the shadows, so it seems.

But in the east, moonrise casts golden light,

A smile, a sigh, death will not come tonight.

End and beginning

For the dverse prompt, a poem including the word, shade.


When the fiery sun slips into the west,

and darkness creeps across the shining sky,

I watch the shades grow among the grasses,

where the hare sits trembling and crickets sing.

Is this the anguish of the last day’s end,

when we hold our breath in the bone cage chest,

and the owl in silence glides where swallows

swooped in the sunlight without a care?

Will the stars appear in the darkling depths

and fill the night with a diamond sea,

or is this the rising tide of darkness,

that laps the black strand till the end of time?

Listen to the voice of the vixen calling,

the rustle of leaves in the poplar trees,

not the end but another beginning,

the cycle catches its moonlit tail,

the wild world is watching as the darkness gathers

and night walks the fields in her mantle of stars.

Sings the moon

I haven’t done a cleave poem for a long time and thought I was due for a bit of self-inflicted punishment. I’m adding it to the dverse open link night because these poems are so hard to write, and I’m pleased with the way this one turned out.

If you don’t know what a cleave poem is, it’s a three in one poem. Each side is a separate poem to be read vertically, one side dark, the other light, opposites. But they can be  read horizontally as a single poem too.


Loud the city silence                 sings the moon

Breaking glassy fragments      in a sea of darkness

All about                                      the brittle stars blink and listen

I stop my ears                              to the swell tide’s refrain.

Though scraps of anger            ride on peaceful calm,

White or red                                 sails full of dawning

Grow round and full                  like moons on water

Fruiting in the heat                    lily blossoms, reflections

Of a summer night                     in a still forest pool.


Cats, stars and the night

This evening’s clutch of twitter prompt poems. Funny how they follow a theme.


Do you see me

through the cigarette haze

as you pour another glass of champagne?

Am I a ghost

that hangs in the rafters of memory?


Is dawn breaking or night falling?

Time stopped when you went away,

the sun and moon,

guttering candles

compared with your face.


A cat in my shadow stalks

with eyes of fire.

A light at your window breaks,

I see your silhouette

and wait, cat-like,

for the dark.


Watch the stars fall and wish,

for all the things you’ll never have,

like sun at midnight,

a crown of stars

and me.


Cat sleeps with half-open eyes

and dreams of birds

that shine like stars

in the coping of heaven’s roof.