Monthly Archives: December 2010










deep indigo timbre
trembles in my ear


leaves a subtle mark
here, and here


somehow you know
what it is I need to hear


part your lips and scatter
sacred letters in my hair



Filed under Free Verse, Poetry



Silk (Tetractys)


me wrap
my ribbons
around your waist;
allow myself to slowly come undone.



Silk (Snowflake Tetractys)


me wrap
my ribbons
around your waist;
allow myself to slowly come undone.
Let us tangle tongues to savour taste and
tie ourselves to
these flavours
we have






~  Tetractys should express a complete thought, profound or comic, witty or wise using 20 syllables. They can be written with more than one verse but each subsequent verse must invert the syllable count. There is no limit to the number of verses. The structure is:
line 1 – 1 syllable
line 2 – 2 syllables
line 3 – 3 syllables
line 4 – 4 syllables
line 5 – 10 syllables


Two verses is a Snowflake Tetractys.


Thanks to Marion@BleedingMoon and Luke@WordSalad for introducing me to this form.


Filed under Poetry, Tetractys

Christmas in a Victorian Cemetery

No signs of Christmas here today;

no gifts, no feasts ‘mid festive trees,
just holly bushes born of wreaths.

No scent of pine, stench of decay
hangs heavy now from every bough,
grim garlands slung in shades of grey.

This place where joy no longer breathes;
no signs of Christmas here today.





~  This is written in Octain form.


Eight lines as two tercets and a couplet, eight syllables per line with the first line repeated (as much as possible) as the last. Meter is iambic tetrameter or trochaic tetrameter, but fine to just count eight syllables per line for people who prefer that. Rhyme scheme –


(A=repeated refrain line. c/c refers to line 5 having midline (internal) rhyme that is different to the a- and b-rhymes. Any extra midline rhyme is a bonus).


Filed under Octain, Poetry


it’s simple
when all we share

is a space


room to  b r e a t h e

room to be
you me we

a stolen piece of free

no mess no clutter
no sandinspeedshutter

this flawless visibility

perfect opacity

snapshot simplicity

that only we see


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Offa’s Dyke

The ancient mystery
of whether Offa built the Dyke
to keep the Welsh out
or the Mercians in
remains buried in the earth

but as she crossed it,
clutching the roughly hewn heart
that had been dragged
from the caverns of Llechwedd,
she felt a shift beneath her.

Placing it in his open palm,
not a gift as such,
more a scrap of trust
passing between them,
she realized

that this imprint,
this linear earthwork
that now lay within her
would remain unchanged
for centuries.



~ Offa’s Dyke is a massive earth ditch that runs roughly along parts of the Welsh/English border. It is believed to have been built in the 9th century by Offa, King of Mercia, as some kind of delineation between the Anglian kingdom of Mercia and the Welsh kingdom of Powys. It is thought to have been defensive, as well as being a political statement of power and intent.

Slate mining began in Wales during the Roman period and continued on a large scale until the 1930s when it began to decline. There are a few quarries which still produce slate, Lechwedd being one of them. The slate from these quarries is stunning and varies in colour depending on the quarry, purple slate from Penrhyn, blue from Cwt-y-Bugail, green from Nantlle, grey from Llechwedd, and black from Corris.



Filed under Free Verse, Poetry


A tiny remnant of his sex, his scent;
an unwashed raiment is all that remains
to ease her gently into sleep’s descent.

The sweet aroma of the space they rent
this treasured piece of cloth all that retains;
a tiny remnant of his sex, his scent.

A deep breath in to bring bouquet’s ascent;
so bittersweet his perfume, when it deigns
to ease her gently into sleep’s descent.

Brief comfort stems nocturnal hushed lament
frayed fragment of their passion’s fluid stains;
a tiny remnant of his sex, his scent.

Elusive is the smell that represents
the torn and twisted sheets, lithe limbs in skeins
to ease her gently into sleep’s descent.

This nightly pheremonal supplement;
deep joyful fragrance full that floods her veins,
a tiny remnant of his sex, his scent

to ease her gently into sleep’s descent


Filed under Poetry, Villanelle