Daily Haibun, August 26th – Text analysis


I’ve spent most of my time today with text analysis in preparation for the first of two different study group meetings tomorrow. And I feel a bit strange picking another’s text to pieces, finding good parts but also parts to criticize. I’ve done it with classics before. But never with a text the author will sit right there hearing my thoughts.

I feel like a villain. And I want to run and hide. Tomorrow will be… interesting. Nervous and tender. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. And I wonder how it will feel getting my own text analysed.

My text are from me

But once handed over

No a part of me

© RedCat



Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.


Daily Haibun, August 24th – Sleepy


The bed is calling me to sleep. Even though my mind wants to writing keep. But the hours of the day is stacking up. And so does the silly errors. So I better be off to bed.

I the silent night

To swoop and call with the bats

Vivid dreams take flight

©RedCat



Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.



Image credits:

First photo: Photo by Josh McLove on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Kate Stone Matheson on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by Vikram Nair on Unsplash

Daily Haibin, August 22nd – A Student


Getting emails about the student discount card, and applying for student grants. It’s finally starting to sink in. For the coming year I’ll be a student of creative writing. The idea still blows my mind. Who? Me! That cant be true… Except it is.

I sent out my applications and text samples and in the end got accepted too so many of them I had to choose which ones I thought suited me best. It’s felt unreal and mind-boggling. And my inner critics and saboteurs have made everything they can to try to discount the significance of what that means. But my passion for writing shines brighter then them, and I’ll be damned if I ever again let then scare me into not attempting something I want very much.

It will mean less time for participating in writing prompts and blogging. Although I can’t see myself quit writing poetry as often as possible. I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on, and when time allows share what I learn and write.

Seeds sown long ago

At last gets sunlight to grow

Let’s see where they go

©RedCat


Stockholm city library built in 1928.

Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by MChe Lee on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Gunnar Ridderström on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by Roel Dierckens on Unsplash

As I Reap The Dreams That I Have Sown – A Harvest Song


There’s thunder in the sky,
the sickle flashes by.
As I hurry to cut down the corn.

I reap with a happy sigh,
as swift swallows fly.
The field must be done by Sunday morn.

I’ve struggled and hoped,
clinging to a frayed rope.
Until roots took hold, new futures were born.
Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

The harvest moon glow,
when I life changes sow.
As I sing beneath the sickle moon.

I’ll rise above my woes,
when the change of seasons blows.
As I dance scy-clad to her freeing tune.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

I’ve sown the seeds,
that my soul will free.
Time to harvest them just like the corn.

I’ve learnt to know my needs,
to my muses feed.
Now let creativity my life adorn.

I’ve struggled and hoped,
clinging to a frayed rope.
Until roots took hold, new futures were born.
Now I’ve got to be bold, leave behind what I’ve been told.

Forget about the lonely tears I weeped.
As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

As I reap the dreams that I have sown.

©RedCat


Written for earthweal’s weekly challenge: LAMMAS. I was so inspired by the song in the prompt, a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop (video below), that I had to write one of my own.

Of sowing and reaping, growing and weeping, of dreams becoming reality.


Steve Winwood singing “John Barleycorn must die” – a 14th century song about the death and rebirth of the barley crop

Photo credits:

Sickle moon – Photo by Mitchell Bowser on Unsplash

Corn Field – Photo by Nadine Redlich on Unsplash


Bedtime stories


What kind of stories do you want to be told?

Of magical creatures and knights of old

Or modern heroes with ingenious gadgets

Maybe of vampires that sleep with maggots

Whatevers your taste

Take your time, bedtime is not for haste

Sleep well my sweet

Mother will watch keep

© RedCat

When opportunity comes to call


When opportunity comes to call
Will you be willing to risk it all
Will you dare to take a chance
Allow yourself and your deepest dreams a whirlwind romance

When opportunity comes to call
Will you risk to stumble and fall
Will you dare to make a choice
Allow yourself to follow your inner passion’s voice

When opportunity comes to call
Will you risk receiving the windfall
Will you dare to aim for a dream
Allow yourself to live, for a time, in an uncertain in between

©RedCat

Inspired by Poetics: Take a risk! at dVerse and the thoughts running around in my mind.


On the Cusp of a Dream Achieved (2020 Re-post)

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Re-post comment:

This Pantoum sums up the way I’ve been feeling for a couple of weeks now. Again achieving things I long for and dream about sends me into a tailspin of deep self doubt, shame and anxiety. So I thought it fitting to make this the archive find for this week.



On the cusp of a dream achieved
Truth of inner worth freed
Bone deep self doubt revealed
Planted with every unmet need

Truth of inner worth freed
A girl bred to never succeed
Planted with every unmet need
She never learnt how to receive

A girl bred to never succeed
A light shone where kind self-love breeds
She never learnt how to receive
Sorrow joy supersede

A light shone where kind self-love breeds
Bone deep self doubt revealed
Sorrow joy supersede
On the cusp of a dream achieved

© REDCAT

I refuse to let my current depressive slide stop my writing. So today I sat down to see if I could write a poem about my truth, my life, and the added stress that accounts for the current mood.

I long known I self-sabotage and have trouble receiving positive praise, but I didn’t know it ran this deep. I thought sending the submissions out where the struggle. The last weeks have shown me, that success and actually achieving a lifelong dream, with grace and real joy, is the real struggle and it’s only just begun.

This is one of my favorite linked forms, a pantoum.

My process for writing a pantoum goes something like this…

The pattern is ABCD, BEDF, EGFH, GCHA. Since line A and C becomes both the start and end I usually write the first and last stanza, then the middle ones.

Also shared to dVerse’s Open Link Night.


Photo by ready made on Pexels.com

Morpheus Speaks – Flash Fiction


Welcome to the labyrinth of dreams. Here the hallways twist and turn, intersections changing place at the speed of thoughts. Doors switch location in the blink of an eye.

You’ll travel here every night of your life. So there’s plenty of time to get to know the place.

Beware of old nightmares skulking in the shadows. They’ll stalk hesitant dreamers, hunt them with figments of their darkest fantasies. Watch out for time vortexes that’ll trap you in flashback loops as the real world moves on.

The intrepid explorer will in time form a thought-feel map of the place. Able to move between emotional spaces. Learn what a dream teaches, then move on to the next. The unaware wanderer is prey to the tug of war between nightmares and sweet dreams.

Remember! Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.

© RedCat


Tonight it’s time for a monthly favorite at dVerse – Prosery. Where we write prose, not poetry, incorporating a given line from another work and not exceeding 144 words. 

Tonight’s line is “Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.” from Joy Harjo’s “A Map to the Next World.” I strongly recommend reading the poem, it blew me away!


Photo by FLY:D on Unsplash

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