Think, by Britta Benson

Yes. I have spent my Sunday cutting out words, phrases and then sticking them onto a piece of paper like a ransom note. Make of it what you will. I had fun. Until next time…

I don’t know silence, by Britta Benson

Another blackout poem… although I do think it looks a little like rainbow frog spawn. Ah well, I like the outcome very much. Not sure what that says about me… So, here goes, I give you rainbow frog spawn: I don’t know silence I don’t know silence. What is it? I believe it is absence

Late September morning, by Britta Benson

It’s been one of those days… Rain, rain, rain. Relentless. And suddenly, all the lovely autumn colours were gone. Not much of a poem today. Late September morning Downpour. Rain. Just rain. Bright autumn colours drain, seep. World watery grey.

Ode to my stubbornness, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to this week’s W3 writing prompt, selected by Poet of the Week Deepthy. (https://skepticskaddish.com/2022/09/28/w3-prompt-22-weave-written-weekly/). She asks for an ode to a thought or idea that largely influenced your life or character. So… what does influence my life and character? The first thing that came to my mind was my stubbornness and I

Travelling, by Britta Benson

Here’s a poem I wrote yesterday. I attend an online expressive writing session on Tuesdays, led by Michelle Berberet. The sessions are free and highly enjoyable, as well as inspirational. (https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/expressive-writing-zoom-workshop-fall-session-tickets-399661768107?) This Tuesday writing hour has become a bit of a fixture in my diary. So, here’s what I wrote: Travelling It’s what I do.

Wonder, by Britta Benson

Another found poem… I’m having fun colouring in words. And I want to make clear that my choice of book does in no way represent a judgement on the quality of writing. It’s all a very simple matter of availability. Today’s page comes from a book my local library discarded a while ago, because it

Your life, by Britta Benson

I’m enjoying blackout poetry right now. Here’s a wee something I found on Saturday. Your life Your life, don’t think. Understand in and out. Look. Look. Understand. That’s an open invitation. Feel luck. Cracker. Dance.

First fall, by Britta Benson

Here’s my response to Eugenia’s image and monoku (https://amanpan.blog/2022/09/24/ez-pz-writes-september-24-2022/). A monoku? She explains it all on her blog, so please visit. While I had heard of monoku before, I had never written one. Until yesterday. Here goes. My autumn monoku. Reading time… two seconds? First fall tired of high maintenance green, tree comes up with

Autumn equinox, or: what happens when you almost fall asleep during yoga nidra

So, I tried yoga nidra for the first time yesterday. Sleep yoga. I guess, I took the sleep part quite literally. And I am also fairly certain that I looked like the cat in the picture… albeit slightly less hairy. As per usual, I turned my life into a poem. Here goes. Officially, it’s a

My favourite textures, by Britta Benson

Thinking about textures… Here’s two I like a lot. My favourite textures A crunch, a crest, unexpected tang, surprise in surplus, confusion. apprehension, almost. That apple, waxy, green, nearly took a tooth out, unripe resistance, then pleasure, sharp, juicy, tart, texture cutting through tastebuds. That wave, sheer stubbornness on the run, determined to tickle, when