That late buddleia flower Mid September, and a very last flourish of nature. The butterflies flutter and rejoice, not a minute to waste… I watch their excited little dance, admire the unadulterated happiness purple brings. Until next year. Make most of last bloom! Full colour seeks mirror feast. Last rush before rest.
September haibun Early autumn and the leaves on the trees seem to negotiate their colour and condition on a daily basis. I love this time of year, this give and take of change, the slight hesitations and then, that wholehearted surrender. Limbo, almost. Leaf! Breeze whispers, chill tugs, night weighs… Still waiting. Not yet!
It rained so hard today, I couldn’t see any world. At one point, I was wondering, if it was still there, somewhere out there, behind the thick curtain of rain. While I was waiting for the world to reappear, I wrote a poem. What else would you do? Here goes. Life story, simplified First wordsContinue reading “Life story, simplified, by Britta Benson”
Today, I came up with a poem while doing yoga. One of my favourite poses is ‘extended child’s pose’, I could remain in this pose forever, and I suppose sometimes, I do just that. Here’s the result. Unclosed In extended child’s pose, completely closed, I find shelter on the floor boards, protect a heart withContinue reading “Unclosed, by Britta Benson”
Today is the perfect day for yet another autumnal poem. I love this season. Here goes. Deeply September, still. Summer petered out last night, knocked over paint pots, silenced the birds. My heart waits for that one stubborn leaf up there, on the highest branch in the sky, to fall and cover my bare knuckledContinue reading “Deeply, by Britta Benson”
I love autumn. I’ll be saying this a lot over the coming weeks and months. It’s my favourite season, and in my opinion, the most poetic of them all. So without any further ado, yet another autumn poem. Enjoy! September sunset September sunset spills across the edge of darkness, my old familiar friend. A worldContinue reading “September Sunset, by Britta Benson”
Came across the key to my first flat today, while tidying up. I’ve kept it in a tiny box, a memento of decades ago and the inspiration for my poem. Spare key This one still dreams in a tiny cardboard box, more appropriate for an engagement ring than the key to my first ever flat.Continue reading “Spare key, 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”
I’m working on a contribution about the theme of ‘time’ right now. Here’s a poem I wrote over the last couple of days. Not entirely sure it’s done, but I like it. Constructive feedback more than welcome. Easier time Easier time withdrew into the curl of a fist with seedlike patience. Sooner, soon, roots andContinue reading “Easier time, by Britta Benson”