Missing You

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/missing/”>Missing</a&gt;

I lie awake
An ache like toothache
Will not go away.
Nothing feels as empty as a double bed
With a single sleeper.
Nothing as empty as a solitary life
Where once there had been two.
I rise, dress, prepare to meet the blank day
I set two places for breakfast.




<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/chaotic/”>Chaotic</a&gt;

C      cataract of clutter, clumsily cascading

H         hurrying heedlessly

A          anxiously awaiting anticipating

O         order only order

S          stretching saving surmounting surrounding


Elegy on the Death of My Muse

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/muse/”>Muse</a&gt;

Sounds good.
(I knew it would!)
My muse is dead,
that’s what I said.
I’ve lost the urge
to splurge on verse
and, worse than that,
my prose is flat,
dull as a lake.
No breeze to shake
the surface stillness.
Is this an illness
that I can shake off
like a sneeze or a cough
or final and fatal
and from this date I’ll
write no more,
write but to bore?
I won’t entertain it,
can’t explain it,
But I just know
It can’t be so!



C a R e F r EE

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/carefree/”>Carefree</a&gt;



I’ve time to spare.
to do and dare
I’ve time to share
With friends.

I brush my hair
What shall I wear?
the forecast’s fair
“Begone dull care”
The Bard once said. Depends
if weight of care
can bring despair
so I don’t dare
to leave my lair
or climb the stair
to reach the rainbow’s end.

I yearn to be
I’ll learn to be
Completely totally



Water of Life

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/water/”>Water</a&gt;

Living Water

Water of life, water alive,
Gentle drops fall
Making circles in the lake,
Widening, rippling, stippling the surface
Sinking softly onto soil,
Soaking into earth,
Sending message of renewal,
Regrowth, resurrection.

A gentle baptism of water and spirit,
Cleansing, healing,
Washes away darkness
Sin, disease and decay,
Arousing new hope in all it reaches.


But water can also bring
Deluge of death,
Tsunami shattering
Trees, buildings, lives,
Brings chaos, confusion,
Dead bodies in putrefying piles.

How then can we find consolation
In the Lord’s promise of Living Water?




Open…O, pen…Open

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/open/”>Open</a&gt;


Open your eyes
Open your ears
Open your mind
To new ideas.
Open your eyes
To the sounds of speech
Open your ears
To the colour of words.

Open the door
Open the box
Take out the key
Undo the locks.
Open your arms
Open your hands
Open your heart
To understand.

Open your mouth
Let the words come
Find your own voice
Loosen your tongue.

Open eyes
tight shut against the light
against the dawn
fear of new sights keeping them closed
brave the brave new world,
take off the bandages,
tear down the shutters
Open the window
pull down the pull-down menu
and choose.



Sing? No, thank you!

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sing/”>Sing</a&gt;

I am one of those people without any musical appreciation.  The idea of spending eternity playing music on a harp and singing hymns chimes well with my notion of hell!
I wrote this verse  some time ago. It owes something to G. K. Chesterton’s poem “The Donkey” and the idea that in God’s plan there is a role for everyone however lowly.

Entrance Exam

If I get to heaven
Will I have to take a test
To see if I can sing the hymns
And keep time with the rest?
I never made it to the choir
I couldn’t sing in tune
Instead I tried to mime the words
They spotted me quite soon.
Does Peter at the pearly gates
When counting good and sin
Ask simply “you can play the harp?”
And if you can, you’re in!

God smiled “My child, there’s something
You really ought to know;
I made the tuneful nightingale,
I also made the crow.
The peacock with its gorgeous tail
Its harsh and jarring cry,
The braying ass, the croaking frog,
Who made them all but I?”

“All animals – all humans too
Have their own worth for me.
Don’t fret because you cannot sing
Come in and brew the tea!”