Was a time

A sequence of twitter poems on a theme.


Was a time

when the sun poured liquid sweetness

just for us.

Was a time

of light and brazen beauty

before this fading into dusk.


Was a time

when we wore starlight in our hair

when moonbeams were silver fishes,

we caught them in our hands

before the black star turned.


Was a time

when you were here,

a heart’s beat away,

now gone,

this time,

too far to catch,

these wings

too frail to cross the deep.


Breaking ice

Twitter poem sequence.


Bound about by freezing fog,

captive in a sea of ice,

I reach out to the sharpest star,

round my fingers wind its hair,

feel its glitter in my blood,

shower you with wishes.


Breaking the ice,

fateful stars look down,

shards of glitter

in the dark water.

Cold the earth, the sea,

in winter’s grip,

warm, your hand

in mine.


Seas of stars

roll above the winter night,

too far, too bright

to feel the cold,

basking in moonlight,

patiently waiting

for our dreams,

the colour of yearning,

tingling with the taste of summer honey,

to spread their scarlet wings

and take flight.


Three twitter poems on a theme.


Moonless night,

orange sky,

packed with cloud

and the sour taste

of city waste,

but far away,

stars light up a sky

black as dreamless sleep,

and in between

peace drops,

pearls from worlds

that have yet to wake.



Against the black,

a sliver slice,

a curved pool of light,

a rent in the fabric of the sky.

We call it moon

for want of a better word.


Cold glitter falls

onto a silent land

of stone and grey trees,

where grey cats prowl,

looking for love,

pad padding

on frosted tiles,

singing their wild songs

to the moon.

I tossed a stone into green water

I tossed a stone into green water,

watched it sink and settle

where silver-scaled fish

sing their silent sea songs,

while the world sleeps.


You sit beside me,

follow the flight of the gulls

into the blue,

and all the while,

your fingers search for mine

to entwine our hearts

in a feather tight,

deep as night



Cloud passes

across the blue,

drawing white horses

behind the soaring gulls,

and beyond them

the stars are dancing

with eternity

in their glittering measures.

Crow’s feat


Sky is blue

above the placid river,


crow flaps,

searching the rushes

for quiet death.


Such a burden to carry

among sleek black plumes,

sheen of sun and river glitter,

and with every slow flap flap

the portents scatter

like ashes

in the eyes of the wary world.


Ages old, the dark eyes,

bright as jet beads,

have seen the grass grow where forests sprang

and run red with battlefield blood.

Crow tears a strip of carrion,

cleans the river bank of untidy death

and slips sleek as a seal

into the eternal blue sky.

Mille feuilles

Photo©Deborah Tilley


River cleans the banks

of fallen boughs cast adrift

where red leaf barques sail.


Each gentle gust

tugs the leaves that fall,

a golden shower,

not rain,

too bright and light,

spinning earthwards

and lying in drifts,

for feet to scatter

with laughter.


Rustle beneath my feet,

crisp leaves,

falling like ticker tape,

mille-feuille and pie crust sweet,

waiting for the wind

and the party’s end.

Winter’s tales

Photo ©Lewis Collard


In the north,

ice floes sail,

compact glitter,

trailing their cold embrace

through the glass green ocean.


Glistens the sun

on frost in winter meadows,

and the waning light

in rolling tears

when no one is there.


Cold wind carries the restless leaves

gathered in the earth’s lap,

where blackbirds sort the living and the dead.


All dead, the flowers,

glowers the cloud,

shrouds their remains,

chains of frost bedeck their bed,

dead winter’s feast,

least of all the sparrows shiver.

Scent of autumn

This haiku sequence was inspired by twitter prompts that came round full circle.

Photo ©Roger Kidd


Rain falls steely cold,

rose petals tumble, mud-stained,

crushed scent of autumn.


Black wind, death-bringer,

Ice-fingered with snow-flecked eyes,

bare-boughed winter stalks.


Not forget the sun

when enfolding darkness falls,

beyond night, dawn breaks.


My glass overflows,

wine-dark winter torrents pour,

no more tears to weep.


Tick-tock the clock,

creeping into tomorrow,

past echoes dragging.


Clockwork oracle,

Tomorrow will come, she says,

beating with times past.


Truth comes with the dark,

lapping through sweet candied walls,

listen to the pulse.


A handful of dreams,

tossed like dead summer flowers,

seeds for the future.

Wave upon wave

Three short poems

Photo ©Jerzystrzelecki


Wave upon wave

strikes the shore,

your boat beaten back

by a strange wind from the land,

sweet voices call you,

soft hands pull you,

away into the deeps.

out of reach of my hand.


I shield my eyes against the sun,

The speck that was the last goose homing,

Lost from sight in the sky’s blue ocean,

Into the night, the lost stars roaming.


Had I wings I would follow

the feather soft path,

risk the wild winds,

the blue waves of the sky,

but no wings have I,

just the tears of my eyes,

your trace lost in glitter,

where the last geese fly.