In this patch of dark

In this patch of dark

that spreads across a whole sky

and smears itself across my open hand,

is a dream.

I pick its limp wings from

the tangle of sooty scraps

and wipe my hand clean

on the weeping grass.

No regrets, I say, a bare-faced lie.

The sky is spangled with regrets.

They glitter in gorgeous indifference

even in my sleep.


Colours of hope

A poem for The Secret Keeper’s writing prompt. The words to include are:



How do I count the colours bright,

that paint the fields and fill the light,

across the waves and out of sight?

All these hues a heart can hold,

the reds and blues the green and gold,

fiery hot and winter cold—

a wealth to store against the past.

It fell, a shooting star, so fast,

our love no longing could make last.

With no regrets, I look ahead,

with green of hope and little dread,

to find a new love in your stead.


Triolet: Petals in the mud

For the Secret Keeper’s writing challenge. I haven’t used the exact words of the prompt, but the spirit is there.


Photo©Katja Schulz


The sight of petals in the mud

Recalls those times we used to walk

And hear our hearts pulse in the blood.

The sight of petals in the mud,

A moment spent beside the flood,

We dropped them like our idle talk.

The sight of petals in the mud

Recalls those times. We used to walk.





Empty arms

I might find something less sad for Sacha’s writing prompt, but for the moment, this is what ‘the hug you’ve been waiting a long, long time for’ inspires.


Empty arms


There have been so many times,

Your arms around me, held so tight,

When I have thought heaven was mine,

In an embrace that fills the night.

Each time that tenderness, so sweet,

I just reach out and you are there,

Our bodies fit, match and complete,

Is almost more than I can bear.

But the deepest longing, never sated,

Beneath the bliss, a constant pain,

Is for those gone far beyond my loving,

All those I’ll never hold again.

Love and swans

Another day’s twitter poems that seemed to follow the same theme.



From the otherworld you come,

mist-wrapped, blue-eyed, smiling,

and in your hands

all the love that ever grew

in either world.


Thrill of the sun on my skin,

your eyes in mine,

and the sky above.

Waves lap about our feet,

while the gull carries our song.


In the sky above the shadows,

swallows swoop

in the last light,

before the dark inks in the blue

and their wild dance

bows out before

the stately minuet

of the stars.


Is there poison in this sweet honey

that drips so slow from your red lips?

Take it away, and I am left lonely,

longing to be the bloom

where the bee sips.


The touch of your hand enthralls,

your soft words enchant,

but when you kiss,

the sun stands still,

and no shadows grow.


Gulls, waves, sun,

glint and shift,

and in the bright air,

stolen from the dusk,

we rise, swans enlaced,

to follow the path of dreams.

Child talk

The Secret Keeper’s writing prompt included these words. The triolet was almost effortless. Imagine what I’m preoccupied with these days?



Child talk echoes, on playroom wall

Chattering, light, bewitching, fay.

When did you all grow up so tall?

Child talk echoes on playroom wall,

Every bedtime around nightfall,

This home is emptier today.

Child talk echoes on playroom wall,

Chattering light, bewitching, fay.

These days of sorrow

Photo ©Mirjam Ool

Mirjam Ool

These days of sorrow,
Followed all by nights of bleak regret,
And the drip drip drip of salt tears,
Wear away the stone of my heart,
Until all I have left is a smooth pebble
To toss into a pool.
Deep down in the cool green water,
To sleep, forget,
The sorrow and regret,
Where the silent carp glide among the weed,
And the glint of gold in the shadows
Is a dragon’s hoard.
There let me lie,
Where there is no night, no day,
No stars above my head,
To crush me with the weight of memory,
Only the silent carp,
To guard the smooth pebble of my heart.