That one leaf, by Britta Benson

My poem, That one leaf, has been published on Whispers & Echoes today. Please click this link to view: https://whispersandechoesmag.home.blog/2022/11/09/that-one-leaf-britta-benson/ That one leaf That one leaf… Last no longer welcome guest, hanging on with the grimace of the misunderstood. That one leaf… Fading memento, half digested by opportunistic visitors. Souls cannot be contained forever. There

Not today, by Britta Benson

Ha! Another autumn poem about leaves… you’d think I’d be a little more imaginative… But I love autumn leave and I think, their dance should be celebrated. A magic transformation right in front of our eyes… what a show. I often wonder, how the leaves feel about this change of colour, change of all. Here’s

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 an

Autumn, by Britta Benson

Autumn Leaf on tour. Soft journey, carried by winds free of charge. First swirl, colour curls in the air, painting quick patterns of change. What remains must always return to earth’s core, be more. Beginnings fall. Seasons gone, yet to come, leap of faith. Leave.

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

Boots on the ground, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to this week’s W3 prompt, set by Steven S. Wallace. This week, the challenge is to write an ekphrastic poem inspired by a picture Steven took. I did not manage to copy his photograph onto my blog, so I chose an image, similar in spirit, I took a couple of years ago.

The first, by Britta Benson

I spend too much time looking at trees. But it’s autumn and trees are miraculous beings in autumn. And winter. And spring. In summer, too, come to think of it. Oh dear, I think I’m doomed. Anyway, here’s a leaf poem. Must get back to staring at the trees. See you here tomorrow, if you

The Brunnera leaf, by Britta Benson

Now, here’s the thing: the longer I look at a leaf, the more I see. It’s an occupational hazard. I’m not sure if I overdone it a bit. I’ll let you be the judge of that. Here’s my poem, inspired by a Brunnera leaf. The Brunnera leaf My veins, the narrowest single track road, run