Wednesday, 25 May 2011

Todays inclusions...

'Storm force' got included in The # Poem Daily today.

The # Poem Daily

Also an inclusion of my reading of  "Letters Pronouncing Kisses" - a poem written by  QuirinaRoode-Gutzmer. I am particularly happy as this is not only a fantastic poem, but also my first recording to make an e-magazine!

The Voices Shared Daily

My reading can be heard on my Tumblr page here:  The_Linnet sings

With grateful thanks as always!

Monday, 23 May 2011

Storm force gets 3 mentions today.. :)

With grateful thanks

The Virtual Writer

and in

The writers Daily

and in

The VoicesShared Daily

Storm force

Stolen from my dream world
Who is that banging on the door?
I wonder why, my sleep fog clears
Wood knocking on wood, in savage repetition
No visitor would be so rude.
Peeking round the curtain, eyes open wide
Sash window frame being lashed back and forth
more like a piece of paper.

Childlike as a child does I ran for the door
My parents were worried, rightly so it seemed
high winds were not predicted that night.
Settled under kitchen table, no more sleep
Watchful, wakeful as the wind did its worst!
Gable wall joined the dance swinging back and forth
Roof slates raining down
lethal blades cutting deep into the ground.

Angelic force or twist of fate
The morning found us and the wall
standing still, shocked yet unhurt.
As we cautiously ventured out
The world was torn and twisted
Everything was broken, thrown all about.
An alien landscape greeted our eyes
Sunshine lighting our way
as tiny shards of ice rained down.
The storm had passed, but the memory
Burnt forever in my heart.

(Entered for oneshotwednesday on 24/05/11 -

Saturday, 21 May 2011

Friday, 20 May 2011

Victorian attraction gets a mention

With grateful thanks

The #Pressed Leaf Daily

Victorian attraction

Sky seating on man made stilts
Held between the wide expanses
of sea sky and land
Air in constant movement
Tearing away the silence
Sun gilded shimmer the lines
Left from waves constant decline.

This place an alien space
From a forgotten time past
memories of fiery wrath
Destruction on a savage scale
Swept away under the evermore
rug of silt below
Only the forged pillars retain the lost
rememberings of that fateful day
Scorched underneath my feet.

Time's relentless march no more
ever present than here
Where both man and nature
refuse to be brought to submission.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

Haiku for a change

Breeze gently shakes leaves
below water kisses rocks
Peace in hilltop space

Mist hiding sail boats
raindrops staining blossom white
skylark stays anchored.

Raindrops hitting roof
clouds hugging low to my smile
tears of laughter fall

Music lifts the mood
rain still falling outside glass
bass drowns out rains beat

Hawk carved across sky
sun strains through mackerel clouds
A feast for the eyes

Sumptuous smells taunts
sunshine mocks with late pink dusk
blue flames create warmth

Sunday, 15 May 2011


As I sit,  quietly watching
                     I see them rise
                              like paper butterflies
gently now,  before my eyes
                up from their sea of green
                         into your water colour painting
each one, carrying secret dreams
                      precious load destined
                              for those who choose freedom.

(Photo by Fee Easton @bootcoot photo prompt for Oneshotsunday @Onestoppoetry 15/05/11)

Do you believe in Unicorns?

Before you judge me please, stop and read this little plea, and think a while before you speak, and ask that dreaded question, that is sitting on the tip of your tongue, relentless in your unconscious pursuit of either polite or career assisting conversation.

The sentence that your itching to release, that I am with ever sickening realisation, loathing my requirement to answer is, 'What is it you do?' Now try as my mind might, I am not allowed to say, 'well breathing and listening right now' and maybe add 'standing up, and maybe wishing I wasn't here', or simply just 'I wish you hadn't asked that'. No society and manners dictate, that I must reply in timely fashion, with the title of my current means of making money.

This might provoke a further question or two, until you can establish that I am, one: earning less that you, or two: less intelligent or interesting, or even three: lacking in the education that you deem necessary to be part of valued society, and therefore worthy of your time..


This is not me! I am not defined by a job title, I am more than just a number, auto created by some software system in the human relations department of some dusty office, in some business that requires my time.

Intelligence moves on different lines to that of pure logic, some of the greatest minds, can struggle when asked to carry out the most basic practical of tasks. If your lack of creative thinking, cannot see past my mode of surviving, it begs the question, how interesting can you possibly be, that you cannot see, that I may have more to offer than you can possibly imagine.

So maybe you should ask a different question, after you have asked 'who are you?' or read my name, take the brave step to ask instead, 'what do you enjoy?' 'what makes your heart skip a beat with excitement?' 'Do you believe in Unicorns, if so why?'

Then maybe you will understand, what a vast pool of fascinating, wonderful, creative, imaginative and heartwarming people you have passed by, just by uttering that one awful closing question.

Sunday, 8 May 2011

Powder sky

The two vast oceans do collide outside
a land spread-eagled far before us lies.
Sky stretching arms beyond this reach out wide
as they embrace, a drawing for my eyes.
Clouds tumbling now across a powder sky
the sunlight deer are racing over hill.
My friend the wind is calling me up high
to dance he says would be the greatest thrill.
He breathes a playful song within my ears
a warm suggestion now he laughs at me.
His promise he will banish all my fears
if just I will release, my mind runs free.
I close my eyes so feeling soft caress
how does he always find a way to bless.

Tuesday, 3 May 2011

Face value

My eyes of sparkling hazel green
see beyond technicolour dream

My hair darkest shade of blonde crowned
cascades a kaleidoscope of gold and browns

My skin a light but some what olive tone
warmed by sunshine can hold its own

My nose is Roman so it defines
yet childhood accident breaks its line

My smile is wary but when shown sincere
it crinkles my eyes but better than tears

My mind is alight with pictures and words
churning relentlessly then forming like curds

My ears are open to verse and song
life playing my soundtrack all day long

My heart always welcomes new friends
when you see my face can you see past the lens?

(Picture taken by Beth Cross on Midsummer's Day)

The Green Man gets an outing!

With grateful thanks to the # Poem Daily