That late buddleia flower Mid September, and a very last flourish of nature. The butterflies flutter and rejoice, not a minute to waste… I watch their excited little dance, admire the unadulterated happiness purple brings. Until next year. Make most of last bloom! Full colour seeks mirror feast. Last rush before rest.
Here’s my response to Reena Saxena’s Poetry Challenge over at Word Craft Poetry (https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2022/08/16/tankatuesday-poetry-challenge-no-285-8-18-22-ekphrastic-photoprompt/). This week, the theme is ekphrastic poetry and Reena has provided a drawing as inspiration. You can see Reena’s beautiful piece by clicking on the link above. Here’s the scene: This morning, as I read the blogs I follow, I cameContinue reading “Seen through pane, by Britta Benson”
I love butterflies. I have written plenty of poems about butterflies and in all likelihood, I’ll write many more… so here’s yet another one. I can’t help but follow your flight I can’t help but follow your flight. Peacock, Admiral, Cabbage White, Common Blue, Painted Lady, Comma, Comma, maybe… Your fickle flitter tickles my flutter.Continue reading “I can’t help but follow your flight, by Britta Benson”
Today, I’ve got a little specular, or mirror poem, for you about a butterfly. So perhaps, it’s not a mirror, but the expression of the two wings… I love all butterflies. The common blue, however, fills my heart with an extra helping of joy. Here goes: Common blue Common. Blue. Small and all. Please, flutterContinue reading “Common blue, by Britta Benson”
Here’s my response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. This week, the word is ‘provocative’ in 62 words. You can find the blog post here: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/20204174/posts/3969714134 Provocative Treading on eggshells, some just chalk from earth’s dawn, waiting to be crushed, ground, worked back into the grit of ancient possibilities. Others, explosives, making space. Grenades ofContinue reading “Provocative, by Britta Benson”
Where’s the butterfly? You ask quite rightly, staring at the picture… Well, here’s the thing. I was out on my walk. The butterfly came and went before I had any chance to take a picture. Somewhere on that photograph, there may be a teensy, tiny dark blob. Perhaps. Or perhaps the wee fellow flew offContinue reading “First butterfly, by Britta Benson”
This poem was published on Monday on ‘Whispers and Echoes’ online. I wrote it a few months ago, then forgot about it, then edited it and hey presto. My last hint of summer for the year, I guess. Not a nice wee girl yet She doesn’t use a net. A jam jar does the trick.Continue reading “Not a nice wee girl yet, by Britta Benson”
Here’s a confession, long overdue. As a wee girl, I caught butterflies. I know, I shouldn’t have, but I did. I thought about it this morning as I sat in my garden, enjoying the morning sunshine. Here is a poem about a girl, catching butterflies. Not a nice wee girl yet She doesn’t use aContinue reading “Not a nice wee girl yet”