Delightful! Please visit the original



immense the sea
gnarly the surge
onyx the cloak
the language of Teutons
shrieks subjugation
howls revenge
Storm Force 10
shows no remorse
takes no prisoners

Driftwood Girl
she does not
have a care
she travels on the tide
the harbour wall
her occasional gîte
the beach
her catwalk

to this day
she sings songs
of destiny
love and loss,
seaweed, faith adrift,
the sudden dive
of the cormorant
seeking breakfast, and
the message in the bottle
penned by the
desolate marooned one

I am old now
once I knew her well
she defies time, does
Driftwood Girl
she remains
forever new

her axiom
‘time and tide
waits only
for the cuttlefish’
always serves
to amuse

the big sea
has yet to find a way
to intimidate her
though even now
without malice
without forethought
there are the hearts of
generations of credulous
fledgling mariners
still to be…

View original post 97 more words

Hôtel de la Gare


Jane Dougherty Writes

For the dverse prompt

I had walked this street so often

yet never noticed the façade,

the way it shunned the pavement like a criminal,

windows dingy, half-shuttered,

paintwork the yellowing shade of cheap paperbacks,

the name, camouflaged by time and rain

barely distinguishable and incongruous—

Hôtel de la Gare.

We ended up on this street

one night of pivotal tension

that started beneath the stars

and ended

behind the dingy half-shuttered windows

of a hotel far from any station.

No trains woke us, no cock crowing,

the curtain veiled the half-shuttered sun,

and the silence was like suffocation.

Years afterwards I still walk that street,

and the criminal shiftiness of the façade

glares at me, hands in pockets

and a fag in the corner of its mouth.

Just keep moving.

I keep moving,

wondering why those dingy half-shuttered windows

refuse to sink back into unseen shadows,

why that incongruous…

View original post 22 more words

Attraction is a mystery

the eternal mystery

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Attraction is a mystery

What is it that captures, captivates and compels?

What is it that draws us, like iron to magnet, bee to honey, moth to light? What is it that makes us warm to another, need to make contact, need to be in their presence, or simply make us catch our breath when they come close?

Is it in their eyes, or their mouth? Is it the arc of their smile? Is it in their height, their weight, their curves and lines? Is it in the colour of their skin or their hair? Is it in their laughter, or their voice, or their words, or the intelligent mind within?

Is it in their honesty, their truth, their empathy, their kindness, their compassion, their hope?

Is it in their movement, their balance, the way their body moves when they walk? Is it in the clothes they wear?

Is it…

View original post 125 more words

Dear Heart …

When will you learn, dear heart?

The world around you
is not what it pretends to be.

Reality is uncovered for you, one day at a time
utterly indifferent to what you have in mind.

Blessed are those with certainty about outcomes
You are cursed with doubts for all aphorisms

Why, oh why, dear heart
do you elongate the past?

Can you not just forget
that you stumbled into the present?

Every station in life has a future.
Look far enough and nothing else will matter.

Will you ever learn, dear Heart?

Written by my friend and fellow poet and remarkable author of fine books, Rashid Osmani

Find his Publications at Amazon:

“In the Footsteps of Rumi” ISBN 978145258232
“Word Posse” ISBN 9781477661963
“Are Muslims Savages?” ISBN 9781481853347


Rethinking Life

Winter Landscape, Trees, Snow, NatureI’ve heard it said
that memories
and photographs
can bring comfort
to those who have
lost their loves
but those are lies
death makes sure of that
you can’t touch memories
and the person in a photograph
doesn’t age
or laugh
or hold you
nothing is left behind
nothing that can put you back together
and all the silly things people say
are like icicles
falling to the ground
and shattering
for when your love is gone
it’s always winter

View original post