Things I’d like to say to an octopus, by Britta Benson

Maybe a bit random, but that’s how my brain works. Things I’d like to say to an octopus You’ve been around much longer than my kind. We’re merely amateurs compared to you guys. What can you expect from modern creatures with only one heart? Seems a bit silly really. One heart, one brain, two armsContinue reading “Things I’d like to say to an octopus, by Britta Benson”

Farewell’s welcome, by Britta Benson

Farewell’s welcome Sea after sunset, last glimpse of dusk. The air cool now, empty, light. Sudden sense of blue, leaving, leaving, left, all traces wiped. Moon invites what does not belong to vanish in the ripples of this night. Room for the other half. Silver, subtle, ripe.

Casting off, by Britta Benson

This is my response to Brian Vos’s Weekly Poetry Prompt. This week’s challenge: write a poem on the theme of ‘outcast’. Here’s the prompt link: Trust me to take it farther. I started off by thinking ‘let’s turn it around’, no outcast, but ‘casting out’, like a fishing line, which, of course, brought meContinue reading “Casting off, by Britta Benson”

When the sea stills, by Britta Benson

When the sea stills When the sea stills, not completely, of course not, just a little, you know, that moment, when wave becomes water, soft and silky, so much so, that leaving feels easy, the most natural thing, off, off, off, why not now? When the sea stills, just like that, I hold my tinyContinue reading “When the sea stills, by Britta Benson”

Sea, by Britta Benson

Just a haiku today, inspired by the Sunday Writing Prompts on The Procrastinators. Here’s the link: Sea Wave, or not. Crest falls. Heaving silver, sunset bronze. White froth still searching.

The art of sitting, by Britta Benson

The art of sitting On your waterproof poncho, folded out flat on the beach. I want to be touching distance to the sea. You know this is silly, and we laugh as we sink deep and deeper into March-cold sand. On a wooden bench, side by side above the bay, basking in sunshine, clumps ofContinue reading “The art of sitting, by Britta Benson”

Deep water poetess, by Britta Benson

This poem is my response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt: This week’s prompt is ‘Rune’, in 96 words. I went for a walk on one of my favourite beaches today in North Berwick and looking at the wet sand, I saw all the little marks, dips, crevasses left by the sea, constantly changing.Continue reading “Deep water poetess, by Britta Benson”

Sea gods, by Britta Benson

I spent the day in North Berwick. From the summit of North Berwick I looked onto the beach. Later, I went along the beach and observed a few swimmers. I’m always in awe of winter swimmers. Today, for a brief moment, I felt inspired, upon watching them. I rolled up my trousers and wanted toContinue reading “Sea gods, by Britta Benson”

In the sand dunes, by Britta Benson

I went for a walk on the east coast today, along the cliff top walk in Dunbar, finishing off in Belhaven Bay. As I lay in the sand dunes, I watched the waves of the incoming tide and thought, that I could quite happily stay here forever. Here’s the poem I wrote on that beach.Continue reading “In the sand dunes, by Britta Benson”

The last day at the seaside, by Britta Benson

Yesterday, I returned from my trip to the Causeway Coast, but not before writing a poem about leaving the place. The joys of being a poet… I cannot even depart without turning the departure into a poem. It’s the only kind of litter I like to leave behind. Here goes: The last day at theContinue reading “The last day at the seaside, by Britta Benson”

Create your website with
Get started