memory, by Britta Benson

I write about memory a lot. Certainly one of my themes. Here’s another one. memory best friends with loss, uninvited guest, size of sky, never saw how she got in, always does, any hour, rain or shine I lock the back door, keep a watchful eye pinned at the gate, fists clenched such a sneaky

Nine Mile Falls, by Britta Benson

Just a wee haiku – of sorts – in response to Tanka Tuesday’s photo prompt, a picture of Nine Mile Falls and the mist. You can find the image and all relevant information here: https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2023/03/07/tankatuesday-weekly-photoprompt-poetry-challenge-no-310-3-7-23/ I like mist. A lot. Nine Mile Falls Mist makes all self known. Clarity through obstruction. Fresh perspective falls.

Boat, and: End of Youth, by Britta Benson

Here are two poems inspired by last night’s Procrastinators’ Writing Prompts, and I simply had to publish them together, just to show how one prompt can lead to so many different outcomes for the same writer within the space of a few minutes. Never ceases to surprise me, although it’s such a well known fact.

to know who I am, by Britta Benson

Just a short Sunday musing. to know who I am know who I am not, explore what’s not me, skin horizon, forever caressing other, always held by what’s not me, always held in this embrace of sonder, always longing to understand, what’s not me, know who I am not

Budwatch, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to this week’s micro season of ‘Plants show their first buds’ on Naturalist Weekly. You can find out more about the micro seasons as well as this prompt here: https://naturalistweekly.com/2023/03/03/micro-season-plants-show-their-first-buds-2023/. Budwatch I’ve been on spring budwatch ever since the last leaf fell. The signs, clear, as of yet, elusive. Hope, always stronger

Breaking news: Fortingall Yew to publish tell-all memoir! Villagers upset!

Here’s my response to this week’s W3 poetry challenge, set by Poet of the Week, Selma Martin. The guidelines: write a prose poem that reads like a breaking news story. You can find the full guidelines and Selma’s prompt poem here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2023/03/01/w3-prompt-44-weave-written-weekly/. So of course, none of this is true. I wish! The Fortingall Yew,

Approaching storm, by Britta Benson

I’m working on my big poetry projects right now, so in my free time, I like to play around with ideas. Here’s one of my ‘playing around’ poems. Approaching Storm and the water’s edge clambers over rocks, maps out the jagged crusts of barnacles, claims splintered seashells, sprays and flails then this shape shifter becomes

When all else fails, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to this week’s Tanka Tuesday challenge. The prompt: Write syllabic poetry about a spice. Read the full guidelines here: https://wordcraftpoetry.com/2023/02/28/tankatuesday-thespiceoflife-poetry-challenge-no-309-2-28-23/ I chose my go to remedy for just about everything: the knobbly ginger root, and I serenaded this perfect accompaniment to life’s ups and downs in a shadorma. When all else fails

Things in bottles and jars, by Britta Benson

Bit of a tense, tiresome day, so I wrote a silly-ish poem. All true. Things in bottles and jars 1. Water, wine, ideally not at the same time. 2. Raspberry jam and pickled onions, again, see 1. Best kept separate. Bit of a clash. 3. A golfball, sand and seashells, found on our walk in

fourteen silences, by Britta Benson

This one, I like. Might not be fully fledged yet, but here goes. fourteen silences all absence locomotes, just like that quiet, here I’m surprised how easily nothing layers on top of its twin patterns of stillness, soulbeats on repeat tranquility, such a long word for hush silencio, softer, with the golden burst of southern