Category Archives: Poetry

Last #midnighthaiku

* Drink a final draught Memories of fragile joys Last drops of sunlight *

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Harbinger ~ Cheryl #writephoto

Hiding here, recuperating Turn off that light! It’s irritating Can’t you see I’m just sitting, resting Conserving energy to divest in A search for some thing to savor As I’m aging it’s no favor Continue reading at The Bag Lady

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Pondering Happiness ~ Tina Stewart Brakebill #writephoto

happiness unfound awake, we dream of the day when dawn returns joy Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Questions that occur to me as I ponder happiness: Can happiness be “unfound”? And if it can, does that mean it’s been lost … Continue reading

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Stream #midnighthaiku

* Light finds its own path Streaming unseen from the source Gathering colours Its journey becomes our own The soul is garbed in rainbows *

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Harbinger ~ Sadje #writephoto

One for sorrow It it true, they ask If I see one will I stuck by something tragic? Is this a harbinger of doom? An omen of impending tragedy? Continue reading at Keep it Alive

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Harbinger ~ Anita Dawes #writephoto

My friend, with his dark black feathers and royal blue and white flash of colour Visits my garden most weeks. He particularly likes my apple tree to perch in He stays a good while, watching me washing up at my … Continue reading

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Promises #midnighthaiku

* Continuity Both promise and memory Bridging the seasons *

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Breaking bad?

It started with a tyre, then another, then a third… “The tracking’s out,” they said, although the price was all I heard. “The fourth one will need doing soon, and have you checked the spare?” Now, should I groan and … Continue reading

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The Neighborhood Magpie Community ~ Joe M #writephoto

  magpies will eat songbird eggs and chicks but songbirds are hard to find in my garden wide and and wild and brushy as it is too many cats Continue reading at Does Writing Excuse Watching?

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The magpie waits silently ~ Phillip Knight Scott #writephoto

His handsome plumage disguises a high-flying dark underbelly, a conniving thief in a tuxedo of feathers as he lay in wait, silent witness biding time until he can lunge at dinner without thanking the unwitting chef. Continue reading at Reverie … Continue reading

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