Short poems

Anyone keen on doing some poetry? I’m finding it hard to get started, so here is list of prompts to choose from. Be my guest, join in and grab a prompt.

 Life          Harrowing      Near
 Death         Watermelon     Freezing
 Love          Left           Right
 Loss          Perfect        Window
 Grief         Sorrow         Next
 Sadness       Pain           Healing
 Friendship    Fear           Happiness
 Hope          Dazzling       Blind
 Joy           Radiant        Shining
 Peace         Beauty         Anaphylactic

It makes an unusual poem in itself, with “near death watermelon freezing love…”

1. Okay. Throwing some words together to start with, to see what they do…

Getting angry stops me
going into anaphylactic

Harrowing fear
Perfect loss

Dazzling joy
of friendship
detained until further investigation.

my grief –
by you.

Sorrow, the painful companion
strokes my heart
cools my head with sudden tears

2. Maybe try some shorter versions…

Life, the ineffable, unfathomable, ever-present, unspeakable beauty

Death, the sudden companion on a dark night, probing indiscreetly, and snatching away in an instant.

Love, the salt in my food, not in my wound.

Grief, locked door to hidden sorrows, masked by pain

Friendship, the doorway to hope, a hand to hold, while leaping across an abyss

Beauty, the silent wonder, ethereal grace, of a world beyond

Give me the key, the salt, and immerse me in what lays beyond.

3. With a rhyme this time…

Harrowing near death experience

brought watermelon tears to my eyes

What a surprise

Freezing love left quickly

before the warmth could melt a broken heart

into a puddle of tears

4. Can the rhyme / it’s time / to stop.



Tiredness washed out by grief

Which brings us back to insomnia…

New goals fresh and crisp,
ready to embark on the next leg of the journey

Grief is allowed
to exist
and the awful heaviness
of dammed up tears
after the flash flood.

The mind clears
like clouds parting
to let bright sun smile through glistening rain.

A rainbow steps on to the path ahead.


Tears can open the door
to wake the mind

Crying pulls out memories
like an excited two year old
pulling dress-ups from a box

perhaps it will move me
from a silent scream
into a sobbing anger
drowned in grief.


Crying really deep down inside
tearing the core out
and staring at the worms in horror
how did they get there?
Spit out what is left over
and wash away the bitter aftermath
with tears

dark and locked in a dungeon
dry, dusty, and voiceless

Like the long stretch of barren beach
before the tsunami overwhelms
I drown in waves of sorrow
that flood my rumpled face

silently stain
as they release the pain
pent-up behind dam walls.

I crumble
and fall

and remember it all.

The maid, the mistress, the mattress, the missus

His youthful bride
is now as common
as the toilet seat
Complete with ups and downs

He is fed up
with wiping under the rim

Sterile gloves rolled carefully
on upright fingers
he preps himself
With cheap bubbly smile

Outside, he braces himself
as turbid sky reflects a feral gaze
through smeared hotel room window

He blinks twice
as it crosses his inflamed mind
how many guests tramped in before him
He lies on faded bedspread
and sinks heavily
lost spring
of an aging mattress.

She’s seen better days.
And stolen honey
on moonless nights.

Heaving an impotent sigh
he thrusts out ungloved hand
Straightens his cover roughly
A cursory gesture.

Presses a crumpled dirty note
into the maid’s waiting plump hand
She stuffs her shallow reward
down a gaping pocket
and moistens her lips
Dampness appears
on her torrid brow.

As she exerts herself
to rhythmically churn
her mop through turgid grey water
Stinking of disinfectant.

A young widow rocks in her fireside chair
watery eyes fixed on starry night
outside her transparent window

He produces a smile
and plants his foot firmly
inside the door
Leaving soiled boots, discarded,
lying brazenly
in the fresh winter chill of the porch


In response to Rack and Smile’s reblogged post, “Always A Mistress, Never a Mrs,” reviewed by Opinionated Man at HarsH ReaLity

The Best and The Worst

I have a lot of trouble thinking of what is best, or worst about me.  So with this poem, I hope it will slip out all on its own while I’m not looking.  Here goes!


When I laugh

I laugh too long

Out of tune, I sing a song

(Some people like that)


When I cry

a flood of tears

I hide away

so no-one cares

(That’s the martyr in me!)


When I’m angry

I glare and shout

Or hold it in

if I’m in doubt

(I don’t have a very loud shout)


When I love,

I love deep and true

when grief comes

I am very blue

(Very hard for people to tell,

I hide away very well)