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. Find

Good Day, by Britta Benson

Good day in Paris. Here’s the summary… Good day Got lost, found other, sonder, sundry wonder. Watched autumn leaves change colour, direction, on a whim, a notion, a necessity. Forgot destinations, discovered tastes, experienced this, that, enough, not on the map, arrived.

Some words are boulders, by Britta Benson

I found a first draft for this poem in my notebook. I had scribbled down a few notes before deciding that the piece wouldn’t go anywhere. Today, a good three weeks later, I looked at my rough and not so ready notes again. I liked them a little more and thought, hey, this is something.

trust, by Britta Benson

Just a blackout poem for you today. I like playing around, experimenting. I give you ‘trust’. trust trust Completely. Everyone is corrupt here. So are you. believe break take Would you like to dream? What is it like?

Life’s punctuation, by Britta Benson

Life’s punctuation Life has funny ways of punctuating days. Sometimes I sense the question mark deep in my heart, when I really need an exclamation of certainty! But no. Doesn’t show. Sometimes I feel sure, confident, this is my moment, only to have my bold statement of intent put into speech marks, you know the

Joy, by Britta Benson

My poem ‘Joy’ has been published on MasticadoresIndia. I am pleased to be part of this platform for prose and poetry from all over the world. Please check it out by clicking on the link: https://masticadoresindia.wordpress.com/2022/10/05/joy-by-britta-benson/ Joy I wander where wi-fi is not and signal bars fade into endless horizons. When no one can reach

Navigating autumn, by Britta Benson

Navigating autumn Well past the point of plump, of ripe, of juicy, an understanding moves in with the chills of Eastern winds. Time to get ready for the breaking, the falling, the losing, the other half of life, and the joy of returning home. Leaves let go, one by one, start another journey, light and

Think, by Britta Benson

Yes. I have spent my Sunday cutting out words, phrases and then sticking them onto a piece of paper like a ransom note. Make of it what you will. I had fun. Until next time…

Late September morning, by Britta Benson

It’s been one of those days… Rain, rain, rain. Relentless. And suddenly, all the lovely autumn colours were gone. Not much of a poem today. Late September morning Downpour. Rain. Just rain. Bright autumn colours drain, seep. World watery grey.

Autumn, by Britta Benson

I went for a woodland walk today, looking at the leaves, and I wondered, what they must be thinking. Hanging on. Still. Autumn Late September and we leaves feel uneasy second guessing. No surprise. These things happen. We all hope, always, hope, this takes up energy we no longer have and then we simply wait