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know, by Britta Benson

Another blackout poem. I’m working my way through a discarded library book. Philippa Gregory’s ‘The Constant Princess’. The binding is no longer existent, pages fall out and I simply take whatever comes my way. This one looks like a cross between a fire and seaweed… know be, realise, understand home, understand, see home, hear, hear.


Thanksgiving, by Britta Benson

Thanksgiving isn’t one of my holidays. Still, I like the idea of giving thanks and I also appreciate this time of year. Late November, I’m readying myself for winter. I’m taking stock. I’m smiling. Thanksgiving Winter connects worlds. Words of gratitude summon souls, love, leaves and life.

The act of making, by Britta Benson

The act of making The what? Almost irrelevant. It could be a card, a cookie, a catflap, a cinquain. The how? Oh, there lies true beauty. Often, however, there’s also a little bit of inelegant swearing involved. A necessary reminder that we’re all works in progess and that any expectation of perfection holds us back,Continue reading “The act of making, by Britta Benson”

Eyes, by Britta Benson

Here’s a piece of blackout poetry I completed this morning. Not quite my magnum opus, not even close, still, I had fun. I wrote about it in my blog, too, in case you’re curious: Eyes Eyes know, ask, answer. Eyes see, remember, admit. Eyes search, stare, try. Eyes know.

Another blackout poem, by Britta Benson

I’ve written a couple of poems today, none of which is ready to be shared. So what do I do? I put a blackout poem on my blog. One, that I’ve prepared earlier… I still like doing them. It’s my go to practice, when things go a bit slow, iffy or not at all. FindContinue reading “Another blackout poem, by Britta Benson”

Ruled, by Britta Benson

Ways to spend a Sunday morning… Responding to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt… The word this week: ‘Rule’, with a word count of 16. You can find Sammi’s full blog post by clicking on this link: As you can see, I did a blackout poem. Ruled Think of choice. Ordered to laugh. The lieContinue reading “Ruled, by Britta Benson”

Driving north through autumn, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to this week’s W3 poetry challenge, set by Poet of the Week, Sylvia Cognac. You can read the full prompt post by clicking on this link: Driving north through autumn Green leaves in its own sweet time. Olympic mood rings go for gold, bronze, bust. Leisurely spectrum of returning, rusty rainbows,Continue reading “Driving north through autumn, by Britta Benson”

To an autumn leaf, by Britta Benson

In case you are wondering, why I am writing so many poems about autumn leaves just now, well, it’s pretty obvious. Plus, I have been setting the prompts for this month’s session of the Boundary Way Writing Group, and, guess what? My prompts were all autumn leaves related… If not now, then when? Here’s anContinue reading “To an autumn leaf, by Britta Benson”

Magpies, by Britta Benson

This poem was inspired by an ‘Images + Words’ Open Book session I attended. We looked at artwork by Vivien Moir. Somehow, I ended up with this piece of writing. I like it a lot. Magpies I write in blacks and blue, my Eden layered. I lug a soul brimful of ink-wet fate, till ripeContinue reading “Magpies, by Britta Benson”

Interval of grief, or: How I write you, by Britta Benson

Ha! How’s that for something cheery… Anyway, this is my response to the W3 Poetry Challenge over on The Skeptic’s Kaddish ( This week’s guidelines were set by Poet of the Week Lesley Scoble. She gives poets the choice between writing a ‘Minute poem’ or a Shakespearean Sonnet. I chose the latter. Interval of griefContinue reading “Interval of grief, or: How I write you, by Britta Benson”