A brief history of everything, by Britta Benson

A brief history of everything Summer wants to leave. Days long to be shorter. Trees look within, ready to shed what doesn’t serve, withdraw, rest, dream. Some, for a while. Others, forever. This transition, no big deal. Just a brief history of everything.

How to explain summer, by Britta Benson

Bit of poetry news: I’m W3 Poet of the Week over at The Skeptic’s Kaddish – a weekly poetry challenge I cannot recommend highly enough. You can check it out here: https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/08/10/w3-prompt-15-weave-written-weekly/ Also: My haibun ‘How to explain summer’ has been published on Whispers & Echoes today. (https://whispersandechoesmag.home.blog/2022/08/10/how-to-explain-summer-britta-benson/) This requires some explaining… I’m in LondonContinue reading “How to explain summer, by Britta Benson”

Life sings from tall conifers, by Britta Benson

Here’s a little scene from my garden today. It’s not exactly a glorious summer. Still, life sings… Life sings from tall conifers In my tiny garden, perched on a camping chair, notepad in my lap, eyes closed, ears pricked, hoping to find the perfect notation for nature’s breath. Feel a slight nip in the rippleContinue reading “Life sings from tall conifers, by Britta Benson”

Summer… haibun, by Britta Benson

This poem was prompted by dVerse. Write a haibun, theme: summer. Here’s the link to the full prompt: https://dversepoets.com/2022/05/23/haibun-monday-5-23-22-summer/ Summer… haibun Did I enjoy summer as a child? I guess so. Like all great dreams, I can’t remember. The magic disappears upon first contact with too many years. What remains is that smell of youngContinue reading “Summer… haibun, by Britta Benson”

Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson

This poem got published by the BlueHouse Journal today. I leave a link below. It is a complete rewrite of a piece I started last summer, while staying on the Isle of Skye, a place that has inspired much of my writing in the past and will undoubtedly do so in the future. Sgeir MhorContinue reading “Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson”

Not a nice wee girl yet, by Britta Benson

This poem was published on Monday on ‘Whispers and Echoes’ online. I wrote it a few months ago, then forgot about it, then edited it and hey presto. My last hint of summer for the year, I guess. Not a nice wee girl yet She doesn’t use a net. A jam jar does the trick.Continue reading “Not a nice wee girl yet, by Britta Benson”

Premonition, by Britta Benson

It’s the time of year, where the first subtle changes in the colour of the leaves become noticeable. We’re still in summer, we haven’t even reached mid-August yet, but change is coming, nature’s summer frocks will soon start to unravel, making way for a more autumnal attire. My poem, today, a premonition of change. InContinue reading “Premonition, by Britta Benson”

Summer then, by Britta Benson

Today, a memory of summer then invaded my peace with beauty and soft reminiscing. I hadn’t invited the memory in, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t welcome. The summers of our childhood hold a special place in our history. This very special time that seemed to last forever. No school, and yet, we learned aContinue reading “Summer then, by Britta Benson”

I remember, by Britta Benson

I remember I remember the late summer sun rising the day she died. Mum was patiently waiting for worlds to wake up before calling it quits. She left us under beautiful, shimmering rays with the warmest caresses. We ate ice creams in the garden, flipped and flopped. She, a glimmer. Above. Always. Britta Benson

Not a nice wee girl yet

Here’s a confession, long overdue. As a wee girl, I caught butterflies. I know, I shouldn’t have, but I did. I thought about it this morning as I sat in my garden, enjoying the morning sunshine. Here is a poem about a girl, catching butterflies. Not a nice wee girl yet She doesn’t use aContinue reading “Not a nice wee girl yet”

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