Three years into grief, by Britta Benson

My ‘Sorta-Sonnet’, Three years into grief, has been published on Whispers & Echoes today. Here’s the link: https://whispersandechoesmag.home.blog/2022/07/04/three-years-into-grief-britta-benson/ You can read the story about my Sorta-Sonnet submission here: https://brittasblog422041504.wordpress.com/2022/06/25/twelve/ The submission call had one criterion: 14 lines. Apart from that, writer could use or abuse the sonnet form as freely as they wished. And whatContinue reading “Three years into grief, by Britta Benson”

Remember past the dream, by Britta Benson

I’m working on a few projects simultaneously right now. In all likelihood, none of them will work, but I don’t mind. I enjoy experimenting. No pressure. Here’s a poem that has been in my notebook for a while. Today, I finally found an ending for it. Remember past the dream Remember past the dream, pastContinue reading “Remember past the dream, by Britta Benson”

Decision time, by Britta Benson

I wrote this poem today, inspired by David’s new W3 prompt on The Skeptic’s Kaddish. https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/05/04/w3-prompt-1-weave-written-weekly/ ‘Write a poem that includes some form of the word hope’. He supplied a poem of his own, an etheree – a new form for me. It’s basically like this: one syllable for the first line, two for theContinue reading “Decision time, by Britta Benson”

The laziness of grief, by Britta Benson

Yesterday, I shared my first ever triolet with you. Here’s my second one. I like the form a lot… The laziness of grief Bring on the laziness of grief. Throw up a no, another, go! Hit me, day or night, beggar, thief, bring on the laziness of grief. I carry hope beyond relief, my sillyContinue reading “The laziness of grief, by Britta Benson”

How ghosts are made, by Britta Benson

I’m spending a couple of weeks in my childhood home in Germany, a place I haven’t seen in well over two years. My mum died here just before the pandemic. Now I’m back for the first time since my world and the world in general changed. I see these oh so familiar rooms with newContinue reading “How ghosts are made, by Britta Benson”

The other side of loss, by Britta Benson

This poem is my response to Brian Vos’s Weekly Poetry Prompt on http://www.brianvos.com. This week’s theme: Two sides of loss. Here’s the link to his page: https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/107936767/posts/3910516669 It got me thinking about the time, two and a half years ago, when my mum died. A few months after her death, I helped my dad clearingContinue reading “The other side of loss, by Britta Benson”

Loss, by Britta Benson

Another poem about grief. Doesn’t really need an introduction. Like most people, I live with grief. I have my own take on it. Here goes. Loss is not a lack, a gap, with fixed dimensions. Absence comes and goes, grows into a tidal beast, famished crashing waves, eating hearts, licking wounds, seeking, always finding. Then,Continue reading “Loss, by Britta Benson”

Mum’s smile, by Britta Benson

This time of year, the days between Christmas and the New Year, is a time of reflection. It is also the time, when those who have passed away are most deeply missed. I do take great solace in remembering the happy moments I had with my mum. There are millions of lovely memories. Here’s justContinue reading “Mum’s smile, by Britta Benson”

More questions than answers, by Britta Benson

Truth be told, ‘More questions than answers’ could be the title for any given day in my life. Today is my mum’s birthday. She would have been 79. I went for a very long walk, and then, once I got back, I put a candle on my window sill. Doesn’t seem like much, but forContinue reading “More questions than answers, by Britta Benson”

Light in the window, by Britta Benson

I put a light in my window today. A friend of mine has lost her mum on Friday, the funeral is taking place today and I wanted to send her love, across the North Channel. I felt the need to mark this day somehow, so I simply placed a candle on my windowsill, in theContinue reading “Light in the window, by Britta Benson”

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started