Posted on 23rd October, 2016




Cliff : mixed media - Liz Waugh



Seasons prompt


A tree in November


Bereft of her leaves

the tall lime snared a kite,  

waving its reds, blues and greens,

a defiant tricolour, till the first

winter gale ripped it away.

Then she embraced a full

silvery moon, but that was a brief

encounter, before she lured

a murmuration of starlings,

drawing them in day after darkening 

day, like iron filings to a magnet,

till they made her their home,

a cathedral of song, music 

glittering every branch.



angus macmillan



                                                                       The Gannet.


                                                                       I watch, envying their freedom,

                                                                       As gannets swoop and dip and dive,

                                                                       Piercing the blue waves, sharp beaks

                                                                       Seeking sea’s bounty to survive.


                                                                       Then, breaking loose the water’s hold

                                                                       They climb, circling ever higher,

                                                                       Wings beating upwards to the gold

                                                                       Of clouds sun-touched with fire.


                                                                       They turn again, dart-like bodies

                                                                       To plunge upon their prey,

                                                                       Scoop life from tumbling waves

                                                                       Struggle, soar, and leave the bay.


                                                                       The freedom’s false, life’s toll exacts

                                                                       Effort, peril, death and dearth,

                                                                       For each must pay the price of life

                                                                       And paying, fall to cold, dark earth.


                                                                       Thelma Hancock





Cats Ear Seedhead - Leonie Ewing



Starlight prompt





She hands him the photograph:

the oldest light in the universe.


It’s a child’s painting, he laughs,

That’s my universe. She tells him 


countless others doubtless exist;

unseen like particles which govern


everything, over which we fight

for control.  He sighs,


selects the microwave manual;

they read page seven together


again. One day it’ll dawn on her

and he’ll be bathed in new light.


Gillian Mellor




My wee brother idolizes Yuri Gagarin

the first man off the planet, up into space


My wee brother has Yuri tattooed on his arm

pressed on by the museum's star man


My wee brother wears his astronaut pyjamas

and a cardboard helmet with a hole for his face


My wee brother applies to be on board for 2025

and the mission to Mars in a super fast rocket


My wee brother talks about circles of Saturn

and watches Jupiter blink at the night


My wee brother likes us to turn off our torches

so more stars will light up the darkest of places


Gillian Mellor






White-tailed Eagle - Tom Langlands








Make A Comment

Characters left: 2000

Comments (0)