Through the trees #writephoto

Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt this week is open to many interpretations, and I’m sure not all of them are going to be nice.


He peered through the greenfly-sticky leaves of the lime tree and caught his breath—so many windows, so many turrets and balconies. How many pairs of eyes could be scanning the parkland at that very moment? They had known how to build fortified palaces in the olden days. How olden he hadn’t a clue. That was one of the things that impressed and terrified him about the place. It was old. Fucking ancient. Riddled with rooms that led into other rooms with no windows, no way back out again, and staircases leading nowhere, attics full of weird noises…And it had a mind of its own, this place. It knew things. Like it followed you about when you were inside, watched you creep down corridors, slip inside rooms you’d no business in. It saw you pick the lock on the window, saw you drop over the balcony, sniggered maybe when you landed badly. It saw you get out.

His breathing came faster. A twig snapped behind him. He let go of the branch and the leaves swished limply. A step, heavy, the panting of hot breath. He looked back one more time at the windows, the turrets and the balconies, and he ran.


Painting by Eduard von Steinle


She pulls wind-whipped hair from her face,
Wipes the spray from her eyes,
Raises her head to follow the flight of the wild geese,
And her heart yearns to follow.
Rock holds her fast,
Chained to the river,
A boulder jutting from the earth’s bowel.
Tears hold no sway with rock,
Such chains never rust.
Grief turns inward,
Gnawing like a fox in a trap,
Sweet longings grow bitter,
The lees of life left too long undrained.
Her eyes leave the free skies,
Where grey wings beat into the distance,
Searching the waves for another victim.

More canary poems

Caged bird haiku

Caged bird sings so loud
to drown the plaintive music
of his breaking heart


Caged bird tanka

Why do you sing so?
I ask the bird in the cage.
The song is my life
My blood and my bones, he says,
Sweet tears fall before the dark.


Empty cage tanka

Songbird spreads his wings
Soars into a foreign sky.
No handful of grain
Will tempt him back to prison
Rather die free in the wind.