Giant hogweed (2019 Re-post)


Taller than grown men
silent reminder
of human folly

One look at you
one whiff of scent
declares intent

This land your domain
roots spread foundation
seeds spread your vanguard

To combat your growth
we must don armour
One touch might burn us

Arm ourselves for
axes will fell your
sturdy stems like trunks

Poisonous sap flow
burns skin in sunlight
blisters and blackens

Down but dangerous
still lying in wait
Second growth or seeds

Wait for guerrilla
warfare without end
Generations feud

We teach our children
to heed the danger
to combat your spread

Write history books
declaring lack of
knowledge led us here

Still we change Nature
before learning of
her intricate ways

©REDCAT


Re-post comment:

I’ve been struggling all day with writing a song.
Keeping every line between five to eight syllables long.
So this poem came to mind for tonight’s
Wandering the Archives Wednesday.


The Return Of The Giant Hogweed by Genesis

Written for Kim’s prompt at dVerse ~ Poetics: Sylvia and Ted. Where we’re asked to write about growing, multiplying, invasive species. As well as try to emulate style of one of the poets.

I decided upon the challenge to keep my line short, with five syllables in each like Sylvia Plath’s Mushroom. It took some editing, but eventually I got there. But boy, do my inner saboteurs have a field day every time I decide to say I actually can do something that connects with writing. Just as they did when I decided to make a new translation of one of Edith Södergran’s poems.
Even though I actually have paid bills working as a freelance translator.

As yesterday’s Haibun challenge showed me how much harder I have with counting syllables in English than my native Swedish. This time I put most words trough a syllable counter I found online.

Wikipedia informed me that this weed too have at least one song to it’s honor.



Image Credits:

First image: Wiki Commons

Second image: By Ronnie Robertson, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons


Your Touch Lingers – A Quadrille


In the cool moonlight
The warmth of your touch
In my mind
Lingers

The memory of your kiss
Makes my lips
Tingle

Remembering how our bodies moved
And our passion
Intermingled

All through the night
Until both were too exhausted to lift
A finger

© RedCat


It’s a beautiful full moon tonight!

Written for tonight’s Quarille prompt, Let’s Linger, over at dVerse.

Read other Quadrilles by me here.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by Brandon Morgan on Unsplash

Second image: Photo by Constantin Popp on Unsplash

Bumbling Bumblebee (2020 Re-post)


Blenda the bumptious bumpkin bumblebee bumbled back and forth bumming nectar from bees.

Before long, the bees barrelled and bumped into Blenda. “Back away from our blossoms”, they buzzed.

Boring bees, a bummed out Blenda thought. Perchance the botanist holds a bumbling bumblebee beloved.

© RedCat


Re-post comment:

As autumn cold nips every night and morning now. I thought this little alliteration Quadrille with it’s taste of summer was a good re-post for this week’s Wandering the Archives Wednesday.

Enjoy!


Photo by Adonyi Gu00e1bor on Pexels.com

Quadrille Monday over at dVerse. And I went a bit bananas with the word bum in a myriad forms.


Tower of Follies – Flash Fiction


“So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm”, proclaimed the Queens herald.

But they all knew the truth. They would come to harm whether they did their duty or not. The only difference lay in how quickly the harm would come. The Queen cared not for their life. She didn’t give a thought to her subjects coming to harm. 

The only things she cared about was her wealth prospering, her power growing, her legacy and legend spreading, her monuments to rise and compete with the ancient marvels of the world. Hers would be the biggest temple, the highest tower, the grandest tomb.

Little did she suspect, hers would be the most spectacular assassination. Thought out and plotted by the greatest minds of the country. Impaled by the sacrificial bull. Crushed by falling marble. Interred in the fallen tower of follies. 

© RedCat



Written for tonight’s Prosery: Doing our duty at dVerse. The prompt where we write prose inspired by a given line from a poem and not exceeding the word count of 144.

Tonight’s line is from William Blake’s poem ‘The Chimney Sweeper:’ In Songs of Innocence (1789)

So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm



Image credits:

First image: Palais idéal, Hauterives, France from Wikimedia Commons.
Second image: Photo by Hisham Zayadnh on Unsplash


Skald (2019 Re-post)

Skald in fuþark runes © RedCat

In my quiver I carry
A ladle arrow to marry
An arrow of rose thorns
For those to be scorned
Of mistletoe a small dart
For those with fickle hearts
And last but not least
A javelin in pen shape
Bardic calling without escape

© REDCAT

Re-post comment:

By now the Quadrille is one of my favourite forms. But tonight’s archive wander shows my first ever attempt of the form. In October 2019.

Enjoy!


Photo by Erik Mclean on Pexels.com

44 words for De Jackson’s prompt Quadrille #90 – We’re all a-quiver on dVerse.


Come, set sail (2020 Re-post)


Come set sail
We’re going to sea
Curious adventure never fail
A need to explore and see

Come set sail
We’re going to sea
We’ll search for a fresh gale
Our souls year to be free

Come set sail
We’re going to sea
We’ll find new fairytales
New deities to plea

Come set sail
We’re going to sea
When we’re only bones pale
Our grandchildren lives over the sea

© REDCAT


Re-post comment:

As my first little getaway is fast approaching, I felt this journey themed poem
was excellent as this weeks – Wandering the Archives Wednesday post.

Enjoy!



In today’s Poetics at dVerse, we’re invited to Come sail. I spent my first years close to the five locks of Borenshult and one of Sweden’s large lakes Vättern, then grew up among the myriad of brooks, streams, rivers, tarnes and lakes in the woods of Bergslagen. Before moving to the Baltic Sea coast.

Let’s just say,
I adore water.
Fresh spring and salty sea.
However-much she sways!

:-)

My favorite getaway (do you remember those?) has long been a stay on a Dutch canal-boat or houseboat. I had planned a writing weekend this summer, but we all know what came of everyone’s plans this year.

I’ve never been on a narrowboat, but if this pandemic ever ends I would love to try.


©RedCat
Picture taken at Stenslätten, Vaxholm, Sweden

First image from pexels.com

Full Moon Magic – An Acrostic Plus Poem


Forever and ever
Us witches pray
Lay your blessing on us
Let your wisdom guide us
Make us live in harmony
Once and forever
On this night we swear
Never to let evil near

Never be swayed by them
Who sees nature as an expendable cornucopia
We will protect her from harmful overusing
With one voice, together we say, I
am a proud defender of Gaia’s chaos systemic

© RedCat



Written for Poetics: For the love of puzzles . . . at dVerse. Where Lilian invents a new poetic form. An expansion of the Acrostic poem, she calls Acrostic Plus. I always loved puzzles of all kinds. So even though I find acrostic’s hard to write, they can easily be nonsensical, I had to give it a try.

Lillian writes: 

In an Acrostic poem, the first letter of each line, when read from top to bottom, will spell out a message or a name or a word.

In the Acrostic Plus, the first letter of each line in the first stanza, when read from top to bottom, spells out a message or word(s) and in the second stanza, the last letter of each line when read from top to bottom, spells out the rest of the message or additional word(s).

To me, one of the most important things in both the Acrostic and the Acrostic Plus, is that the poem makes sense. The form cannot overrun the meaning. I suppose that’s the case with any form of poetry.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by Anton Repponen on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash


Harriet the Heartless Harridan – A Quadrille


Harriet the heartless harridan was heartbroken.
Her husband had happened to hear her hawking love potions.
And now his behest was that she herself had a sip.
Harriet pleaded, but he was head and heartstrong.
Now Harriet is known as the heart healing hedgewitch.

©RedCat


Written for tonight’s Quadrille prompt over at dVerse. That, dear to my heart, little poem form of just 44 words, excluding the title. And including a given word. Tonight the word is heart. As soon as I read that the words” Harriet the heartless harridan” popped into my mind and I knew it was time for another alliteration Quadrille.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Jan Ranft on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by Jeremy Zero on Unsplash

Website Built with WordPress.com.

Up ↑