My picturesque…, by Britta Benson

My contribution to the ‘picturesque’ prompt on Sammi Cox blog ( has to start with a picture. Trust me, it will explain a lot. I am not making this up. I am also not consuming dubious substances. The strongest thing I drink is milky tea. So, behold. Brian, the snail. I do apologize to allContinue reading “My picturesque…, by Britta Benson”

Window, by Britta Benson

Window Is this how the world ends? Watching and waiting for people in cars to pass by. Exits and entrances. I stare through a pane I won’t clean. My square personal peace, protected by grime. I know about good and bad and which one I should be. One day, I’ll learn how to make friends.Continue reading “Window, by Britta Benson”

How ghosts are made, by Britta Benson

I’m spending a couple of weeks in my childhood home in Germany, a place I haven’t seen in well over two years. My mum died here just before the pandemic. Now I’m back for the first time since my world and the world in general changed. I see these oh so familiar rooms with newContinue reading “How ghosts are made, by Britta Benson”

Window, by Britta Benson

I just wrote a poem from the point of view of a window. A specific window. The one of my living room. I stared at it for that little moment too long… and whenever a poet stares for that little moment too long, we all know what will happen. It’s inevitable. As though the worldContinue reading “Window, by Britta Benson”

Create your website with
Get started