I’d love to feel artistic every day
Portray my world in sweet poetic rhyme
Write wistful words to bat the blues away
Syllabic sounds set comfortably in time
Draw inspiration from the daily grind
Paint out a life that’s filled right to the brim
With images that sparkle in the mind
In colours bright instead of greys so grim
But harsh reality strips all veneer
Of happiness inspired by fun and play
However hard I try it seems quite clear
I’m simply not created in that way
My world feels dulled with misery and gloom
As dark clouds of depression fill the room…

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Sonnet


Scottish Soup: A Sonnet

My Scottish senses love the cooking smell
Of soup that starts with deeply smoked ham hock
Boiled up with split red lentils, seasoned well
Traditional good food from fresh-made stock

Or leek and tatties make the perfect base
With chicken bouillon, carrots, onions too
Add herbs and salt and pepper judged to taste
A little milk to finish – that’ll do!

Pearl barley thickens broth like fattened rice
With cheap-cut beef and root veg simmered low
Soup fills you up at such a decent price
Well-blended flavours make your tastebuds glow

A bowl of love with thick-sliced bread to eat
Now that’s a hearty dinner hard to beat ❤

I know I never seem able to get the hang of writing really Terrible Poetry, but I’m joining in anyway cos I really love this week’s prompt of a sonnet written about soup – what fun! 🙂

April A-Z: P is for Poetry

Poetic Thoughts…
In school we learned short poems off by heart
Recited them in front of everyone
With practiced voice I happily took part
The lure of poetry had now begun
I loved the way the words flowed out in rhyme
When spoken or heard silent in your head
Pentameter helped keep a measured time
Gave cadence to the way they must be read
In later years I favoured free verse style
Restrictive frameworks left out in the cold
But poems lost their way after a while
I missed those tight-knit rhythmic rules of old…
Now structured formats once more set clear pace
And syllables slot neatly into place… 🙂

Life events have conspired to pull me away from blogging over the last couple of months, and the idea of taking part in this year’s April Blogging from A-Z Challenge seems like a good way to try to get back into the habit of reading and posting regularly. Originally I thought of just using any old random words to go with the particular letter of the day, but realistically without a clear theme to work towards I’m not sure I’d be able to keep my focus for a full month… So instead I’ve opted for a relatively simple, if slightly self-indulgent work-around: This year I’ll be posting 26 things about me, nothing too taxing to write about yet still fulfilling the brief!

Jane Austen’s Heroines

With perfect language, carefully polite
Jane Austen’s heroines all hold their own
Societal conventions bind them tight –
Behave as ought or reputation’s flown.
In modest clothing, virginal, demure
Sweet innocence, with countenance so chaste
Correctly dressed they sit, erect and pure
All model females of the human race.
But underneath blood flows through passioned veins
Romantic love remains their heart’s desire
They will not settle for a lesser gain
Good friendships set their marriage beds on fire…
With sweaty limbs entwined in crumpled sheets
Jane Austen’s heroines find life complete…

The inspiration for this poem came from Chelsea Owens ‘Terrible Poetry Contest’ which this week asks for a sonnet about a period/ historical romance. However it seems I find it too difficult to deliberately write a bad poem – I mean, my poems might be bad, but I don’t think they are truly terrible in the way Chelsea wants them to be! Still, inspiration is inspiration, so there we go, and at least I tried… 🙂

The Waiting Game…

Impatiently I clock-watch, counting time

Each taunting tick precise, accentuates

Reality like slow motion sublime

With bated breath in-drawn, exaggerates

I feel my heart-beat loudly fill my chest

With rhythmic regularity at base

Internal cadence pulsing without rest

As in-built metronome increases pace

Distressed, I try my best just to distract

My mind from life-blood pounding fast and fleet

But can’t escape the solid soundless fact

This ‘now’ exists, exquisitely complete

The time has come where I can only wait

Till time itself unfolds, reveals my fate…



A nineteen thirties bungalow in style

Mock-Tudor boards on double-fronted bays

Old paint-peeled rendered walls that made me smile

And fall in love in oh-so-many ways

Its shabby chic and part-neglected air

Called out to me to make this house my own

Look far beyond its age without a care

Ignore its dated décor overtone

And now we live together in this space

Eclectic symbiosis oft appears  

Where partial changes slowly taking place

Bring modern touches to the faded years

I love the way the blend of old and new

Creates a loving home for me and you… ❤

Weekly Prompts: Old and New

Fifty Seven and Counting

 My fifty-seventh birthday is today
 I just can’t help but ponder growing old
 Retirement is one short decade away
 I picture what my future life might hold
 Imagining myself in years to come
 No longer working for my daily crust
 I’ll potter in my garden just for fun
 And spare some time for housework if I must
 But hopefully my hobbies will expand
 To fill my days with things I love to do
 Creatively I’ll find my promised land
 Artistically I’ll flourish through and through
 I look ahead to far horizons clear
 A distant ageing world that holds no fear… 

Going Viral…

Going Viral…

Coronavirus takes us to the brink

Of madness as we panic-buy in fear

Like animals we act on base instinct

Protect the family we hold so dear

Across the globe the virus does its worst

Infection spreads with total disregard

As all humanity feels sorely cursed

The death toll rises, hits whole countries hard

First plagues of locusts, now this pestilence

With biblical proportions swarms the land

Man’s arrogance, so selfish, so immense

Reduced to nought by nature’s sweeping hand

With no immunity, the human race

Must meet this deadly virus, face to face…

Emotional Oblivion

Emotional Oblivion…

If only I could capture how it feels
Describe destructive passions as they rise
Record their tightening grip with strength so real
Write down in words my silent, strangled cries.

Such visceral sensations surge and fall
Emotion sickness, writhing hard and fast
Internally I cannot think at all
So overwhelmed by feelings, urgent, vast…

But then the raging storm inside runs still
And empty spirit, hollowed out, bereft
Of every sense and feeling, waits until
A germ of hope can heal whatever’s left.

For now with heavy heart and soulless sigh
Emotional oblivion creeps by…

The Sound of Seagulls

The sound of seagulls stirs me from my sleep

Their haunting cry a strangely sad lament

That speaks of old emotions strong and deep

Bereft with loss, they mourn with voices rent

With flurried wings they settle; vantage high

Their scrabbling claw-feet scratching sloping slate

I sense their presence, hear their plaintive cry

Strong harmonies like river-song in spate

But lying warm in bed I snuggle down

And pull the covers close with no delay

Beyond the curtains sunrise starts to crown

As night gives birth to amber skies of day

I dream of seagulls soaring high above

Protecting me with mournful songs of love… ❤