For the dverse prompt, sleep.


The stars blaze silently,

while moon sets in a pool of gold,

and I listen to the watery ripple of the poplars,

lullaby-rocking the house where day folk live,

and trip, night time, barefoot after dreams

of sunken pearls and moonstones,

glowing in a sea king’s hands

or rowan berries, glowing bright as flame

where visions dance.

Stars wheel on the eternal sea,

tides of sparks that ravel up the day’s cares,

and drop our thoughts like pebbles

into the bottomless well of sleep.


The Daily Post prompt is: blank.

Photo©Staffan Ström


When the night is too loud and crowded,

and the air will not be still,

when the heat will not subside or the cold ease,

and even the cats fight among the chimney stacks,

I try to recall the emptiness of some other time that perhaps I knew,

when the world was a blank canvas, an empty screen,

and the humming and shrilling of other people’s problems

did not impinge on the gentle, rolling space inside my head.

Sleep, a river or an ocean, waveless and limpid,

laps behind some wall or cliff, all dark ripples and fizzing foam,

if only I could find it.

If only I could find it,

I would dive, as graceful as a gannet,

and skim the green depths, otter-like,

and forget.

Night swans

A circular poem.
The painting is by Josef Pankiewicz


Darkness wells,
Swells through river water and the night,
Light shimmers pale.
Sail, the swans, ghostly white,
Tight closed eyes, necks bent in sleep.
Weep, the willow on the bank’s edge.
Sedge trembles ’neath the breeze,
Trees make tangled shadows between the moonlight threads,
Spread wide the ripples on the lake.
Wake, white beauties when the morning breaks,
Wake, where the night darkness wells.

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.

Sky at evening

This sequence of poems was inspired by the yesterday’s cloud pictures. You can see them here.

If this rhyming scheme has a name I’d love to know what it is 🙂

Night creeps,

Seeps through veils of blue,

You watch white wisps flow,

Blow across fading sky,

Die in the darkening west,



Sun sinks,

Inks in the night,

Light from stars falls,

Palls in moonbeams,

Dreams unfold,

Gold and silver apples,

Dapples of light and shade,



Evening sky darkens,

Harkens the ear to the song,

Long and sweet of the thrush.

Hush the earth, the rustling leaves,

Weaves its twilight patterns spangled,

Tangled in your hair, the day dies,

Lies in shadowy tatters deep,


If I left you sleeping


If I left you sleeping,

To take the untrodden paths between the stars,

Would you wake?

If I left your side,

Spread my night wings and leapt into the dark,

Would you follow?

And would you search,

Armed with moonbeams, through the night’s dark depths

Until you found me?

And would you take my hand

And walk by my side into the pale hopeful glimmer

Of the morning?

I watch your calm, sleeping face,

Taste the sweet warmth of your breath,

Listen to the beating pulse of your heart,

And wait to read the answer

In your waking eyes.


Sleep brings dark oblivion
The curtain falls on cares too hard to bear.
But morning always comes too soon
scattering the shadows in the east,
and ripples break the still night pools
with glittering spears of unwelcome light.
Though the pain returns,
The dull ache in the heart,
The blush of pink deepens on the rose
And dew hangs trembling on the leaf.
The sun will rise behind the bank of cloud
And the blackbird’s song is just as sweet.