Love, or: Elephant

Here’s my response to my own guidelines on The Skeptic’s Kaddish weekly poetry challenge, W3. You can read the full prompt post here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/09/07/w3-prompt-19-weave-written-weekly/ Love, or: Elephant My love for you, non negotiable. I was yours, long before I felt gossamer fingers, toes, stroke my soul from the inside out, and even after that midwifeContinue reading “Love, or: Elephant”

Variations of Dad, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt. This week: ‘Variation’ in 67 words. (https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2022/07/23/weekend-writing-prompt-269-variation/) Variations of Dad Sorting his legs in the morning. Left. Right. Almost familiar. Eating toast that looks like yesterday’s but isn’t. Coffee, three sweeteners. Always. Five tablets. A daily rainbow, the same in all its difference. Counting steps. NumbersContinue reading “Variations of Dad, by Britta Benson”

W3 Family

Last week, my poem ‘Family’ was chosen as the new prompt poem for the W3 Poetry Challenge on ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’. Here’s the link to the full blog post : https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/06/08/w3-prompt-6-weave-written-weekly/ Here’s my prompt poem. Family Hopscotch gatherings of twice removed ties, stubburn hearts strung, as the drunken crow flies. Comings and goings, swift handshakes,Continue reading “W3 Family”

Family, by Britta Benson

This is my take on this week’s W3 prompt. The challenge: write a poem with a monorhyme (either the first or last word of each line) in response to Murisopsis poem ‘Finding a voice’. Here’s the link to David’s blog for the full details: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/06/01/w3-prompt-5-weave-written-weekly/ Somehow, I ended up writing about family. Here goes. FamilyContinue reading “Family, by Britta Benson”

My dad’s walking frame, by Britta Benson

Yesterday, I attended a triolet workshop and, guess what? I wrote a triolet. In fact, I wrote two. Here’s my first. The form is still new to me, but it feels like a friend. My dad’s walking frame An exercise in patience, life, surprise. The practice of not going anywhere. His walking frame meanders, wiggles,Continue reading “My dad’s walking frame, by Britta Benson”

Family – a cacophony, by Britta Benson

My family is mostly functional. I say mostly, for we can all agree, perfect families do not exist. There are always skeletons and we can consider ourselves lucky, if they only linger in the closets. Here’s a slightly more delusional family picture. Enjoy. Family – a cacophony Keep me, miss me, call. Avoid visits homeContinue reading “Family – a cacophony, by Britta Benson”

My favourite subject, by Britta Benson

Bit of a weird one for you today. I often use poetry to work things out in my head. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. How would you answer the question about your favourite subject at school? Here’s my take. My favourite subject Not maths. Which, of course, I now deeply regret. Nobody warned meContinue reading “My favourite subject, by Britta Benson”

The universe, by Britta Benson

I’ve got a longer poem for your today. I spent a while sitting at my kitchen table. The kitchen seems like the centre of my family’s universe. I had a good look at it… not the kind of place you would find in a glossy magazine. Still, it’s where it all happens. Here goes. TheContinue reading “The universe, by Britta Benson”

The wellie, by Britta Benson

Rain, rain, rain… so I wrote a poem about a wellie. Completely and utterly autobiographical. Enjoy! The wellie She planted the teensiest wellie, black with white skulls, in the back of their garden. It once belonged to pirate Nobeard, undisputed master of a thousand puddles. Now it sprouts violets. A straggle of ivy climbs outContinue reading “The wellie, by Britta Benson”

The phone call, by Britta Benson

My mum died two years ago. Sometimes, in my dreams, I chat to her and we have long phone calls, from soul to soul. When I wake up, there’s always the harsh, awkward moment, when I realize, it was just a dream. There is, however, also the feeling of gratitude, that I had a niceContinue reading “The phone call, by Britta Benson”

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