The Garden – A Prose Poem

Photo by Cosmic Timetraveler on Unsplash

For many years the garden lay neglected.
Fallow,
overgrown with sorrow weeds and thorny trauma brambles.
Creative stream choked off,
the source strangled by fear.
No longer filling the deep story pool.
Unable to attract sparkling dragonflies of fantasy,
buzzing idea bees or paradise birds flights of fancy.

The weeping willow shedding its leaves in grief.
Becoming naked skeleton of raking nightmare fingers.
The starving muse wilts and fades.
Retreating into dark amnesic mist under the onslaught of anxiety rain,
depressive storms.

A bolt of awakened lightning sheared through the bruised cloud cover.
Putting the strangling weeds in flames.
Rekindling the suffocated creative fire.
Birthing a fierce Phoenix from the flames.
Rousing the sleeping muse with a song of newfound life.
Hailing the first ray of kind sunlight.
Praising the smatter of nurturing rain.

Now the garden blooms and grows.
Tended by the muse and the soul Phoenix.
The brook babbles and laughs as it flows.
The air is filled with fragrance,
the sound of wings of every shape and size.
Safe in the knowledge their host will never again,
let anything her creativity compromise.

©RedCat

Photo by Jie on Unsplash

Written for Poetics: Garden(ing) at dVerse. As I took my evening walk, thinking about gardens and gardening. This is what came to mind. Following a thought about one of the first writing communities I found “Imaginary garden with real toads”. A place that made me feel welcome and a place who’s kind encouragement kept me writing through all my doubts, making me think that I could do this. I know many of you might have a hard time believing it. But I’ve been writing poetry for less than two years. I’m still finding my way and my voice.

This is not the first and probably won’t be the last time I’ve written something very personal to a prompt. My writing is both pent up creativity poured out, and a form of dealing with and working through everything that’s happened to me.


Photo by Jeff Finley on Unsplash

Where did the trip go wrong? – A Puente Story

PHOTO PROMPT © Russell Gayer

It had been a colourful hippie bus, proclaiming love and peace.
Vibrant, buzzing with hope and life.
Wheels turning for untold miles, on roads and in minds.
Traveling all over the country spreading the word.
Encouraging the travelers to go further, look beyond.
Envision a world where everyone belongs.

~ Where did the trip go wrong? ~

When did we lose it’s soulful songs?
Forget that a new era never dawned.
Today its message a lost echo, barely heard.
Such sentiments much harder to find.
The world full of nature’s destruction, division and strife.
A faded, bleached out memory overgrown with weeds.

© RedCat

Vasilios Muselimis on Unsplash

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers.

This is my third Puente poem, the others are, Another Piece of the Puzzle and Sounds in the wind which is a story inspired by art.


Click here to read more Friday Fictioneers or participate.

Click here to read other stories by me.


Forbidden Cave – A Story Poem

Raychan on Unsplash

She knew the cave was for acolytes forbidden.
It was said it could render a person utterly mad.
But if it was truly dangerous, wouldn’t it be better hidden?
Her curiosity evaporated any hesitation she might have had.

The stone carvings were massive, reaching beyond the light of her torch.
It fluttered, spluttered and gasped in the airless cave.
With a quick spell she summoned light from her sorceress brooch.
Took a breath from the air-sack that would her life save.

With a frown she studied the carvings, so intricate and complex.
Surely they belonged to the ancient astrology.
Or they meant nothing, only carved to vex and perplex.
Born out of a mad woman’s deranged fantasy.

She sat down to meditate, seeing if she could find any meaning at all.
With a burst of insight the meaning to her occurred.
The truth nearly obliterated her mind, made her skin crawl.
They were incantations meant to summon eldritch horrors from another world.

© RedCat

Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

Written for Wordle #247 at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

Obliterated
Astrology
Forbidden
Render
Airless
Frown
Hesitation
Quick
Stone Carvings
Massive
Burst
Perplex


Click here to read other stories by me.


The Cafe – Flash Fiction


The cafe began to feel like her only real home. A place that with or without known people made her feel less alone. A place where no one objected if her curious, quirky, whip-smart personality shone. She spent whole days sitting at a table. For the first time feeling she might be able to have friendships and camaraderie. At night she dreamt she’d stumble into a fable.

So what did the story teach? That her agile, perspicacious mind made her prone to the Jante law breach. That her fiery passion would make her for the unconventional way reach. 
She spent her days in her home away from home. Writing stories with elfs, fairies, unicorns and gnomes. Composing poetry that made her heart and soul the universe roam.

© RedCat


Wanted to write but lacked inspiration, so went on an internet trawl. Found this prompt to inspire me. The line given in this week’s First Line Friday at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie.

The line being:

The cafe began to feel like her only real home.

Including I word I learned today, perspicacity /ˌpəːspɪˈkasɪti/ meaning the quality of having a ready insight into things; shrewdness.


Click here to read other stories by me.


Change – April Ekphrastic Challenge

April Showers by Kerfe Roing

Sun, snow. Sun, hail. Sun, rain.
It’s like nature itself is unsure if it’s ready for the change.
Ready to take that final leap.
Let go of the old and embrace a new season.

Smile, tears. Hope fears.
Between what was and what will be.
Unwilling to go back, unsure where to go next.
Endless labyrinths of ruminations.

What if? What then? When?
Dare to leap without knowing the end.
With only a faint hope of new friends.
Sure the broken needs to mend.

Sun, smile. Rain, tears.
Living change gives fickle weather.
Staying in between you’ll wilt altogether.
Seasons change forever and forever.

Sun, snow. Sun, hail. Sun, rain.
Change is loss and gain.
Smile, tears. Hope, fears.
Change both hurts and heals.
What if? What then? When?
Change is how to write a new end.

©RedCat

To see all art and read all poetry for today go to The Wombwell Rainbow.


Kerfe Roig

A resident of New York City, Kerfe Roig enjoys transforming words and images into something new.  Her poetry and art have been featured online by Right Hand PointingSilver Birch PressYellow Chair ReviewThe song is…Pure HaikuVisual VerseThe Light EkphrasticScribe BaseThe Zen Space, and The Wild Word, and published in Ella@100Incandescent MindPea River JournalFiction International: Fool, Noctua Review, The Raw Art Review, and several Nature Inspired anthologies. Follow her explorations on her blogs, https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/  (which she does with her friend Nina), and https://kblog.blog/, and see more of her work on her website http://kerferoig.com/

April Ekphrastic Challenge – GloPoWriMo 2021

Life Lessons – April Ekphrastic Challenge

Jane Cornwell

Beware the serpent who promises everything without demanding anything in return.
He just plays on the ego’s lazy wish to receive without having to earn or learn.

Watch out for the seeping poison that hides behind polished images online.
They are just there to trick you into thinking polished surfaces lead to clouds nine, where everything is always fine.

Think twice before leaping into beliefs that promise salvation and explanation as long as you follow the rules and never question anything.
They just play with your ego’s fear of life’s uncertainties, anything can happen, even if you try to control everything.

Watch your step whenever someone promises a pill or drink or smoke or sniff will make everything fine.
They are only out for your hard earned dime, while you dull your shine and end up in dependency confined.

Keep your wits about you whenever you feel bedazzled and someone tries to sell you something your heart, soul and gut know sounds too good to be true.
They are most likely out trying to put your perspective askew, leaving you feeling stupid, lonely, sad and blue.

Life is never as easy as we wish, sometimes it’s full of hardship and anguish.
Mostly it’s full of hard work, with the occasional perk.
It is also full of moments of happiness and joy, of love, friendships and passions that our souls buoy.

Listen to your instincts, heart and soul, and you’ll find what for you is a worthwhile goal.

©RedCat


To see all art and read all poems for today go to The Wombwell Rainbow.


Kerfe Roig

April Ekphrastic Challenge – GloPoWriMo 2021

John Law
John Law

“Am 68. Live in Mexborough. Retired teacher. Artist; musician; poet. Recently included in ‘Viral Verses’ poetry volume. Married. 2 kids; 3 grandkids.”
Jane Cornwell


likes drawing and painting children, animals, landscapes and food. She specialises in watercolour, mixed media, coloured pencil, lino cut and print, textile design. Jane can help you out with adobe indesign for your layout needs, photoshop and adobe illustrator. She graduated with a ba(hons) design from Glasgow School of art, age 20.

She has exhibited with the rsw at the national gallery of Scotland, SSA, Knock Castle Gallery, Glasgow Group, Paisley Art Institute, MacMillan Exhibition at Bonhams, Edinburgh, The House For An Art Lover, Pittenweem Arts Festival, Compass Gallery, The Revive Show, East Linton Art Exhibition and Strathkelvin Annual Art Exhibition.

Her website is: https://www.janecornwell.co.uk/
Kerfe Roig

A resident of New York City, Kerfe Roig enjoys transforming words and images into something new.  Her poetry and art have been featured online by Right Hand PointingSilver Birch PressYellow Chair ReviewThe song is…Pure HaikuVisual VerseThe Light EkphrasticScribe BaseThe Zen Space, and The Wild Word, and published in Ella@100Incandescent MindPea River JournalFiction International: Fool, Noctua Review, The Raw Art Review, and several Nature Inspired anthologies. Follow her explorations on her blogs, https://methodtwomadness.wordpress.com/  (which she does with her friend Nina), and https://kblog.blog/, and see more of her work on her website http://kerferoig.com/

What did you think would happen to a child left on my doorstep? (2020 Re-post)

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

Re-post comment:

Wednesday and time to wander the archives. This is the second most read post from GloPoWriMo 2020.
It’s both a story and about me as a child. Books and pets where my only true companions.

Enjoy!



What did you think would happen to a child left on my doorstep?
Free to roam the the shelves.
Delve into the dusty archives.
A whole childhood to read whatever took her fancy.

She learned everything she knows from me.
I always accepted, comforted and nurtured her.
When no one else did.
She felt safe spending hours.
Within my booked lined walls.

Of course she’d find.
Fantastic stories to immerse in.
Hilarious verses to laugh with.
Poetry as steamy as any video.
More facts than you know.
Opposing ideas and new wisdom.
Philosophy and all the religions.
Mystical traditions founded in ancient history.

Curious children do that you see.
They search for and soak up stories and facts.

Of course all that.
Paper and ink.
Facts and fictions.
Millions of words.

Put her under my spell.
Made her seek my sanctuary.
Endeavour to write stories of her own.

Wondrous worlds of strange beauty.
The nature seen through loving eyes.
Sensual stanzas that arouses desire.
Horrifying tales of death and suffering.

Yes! I confess!
That bright discarded child.
I made her mine by love.
Of knowledge and words.

Now she lives in the apartment of the head librarian.
Spending days and nights with words.
I think she’s happy!

© REDCAT

Written for today’s GloPoWriMo prompt, to write a non-apology. Very fun!
Also linking to OLN at dVerse.

Photo by Janko Ferlic on Pexels.com

GloPoWriMo 2020

DAY 1 – Build a New Start
DAY 2 – Beloved Bookstore
DAY 3 – Sunshine and Hail
DAY 4 – Isolation Dating
DAY 5 –Staring out a Windowpane
DAY 6 – Casanova Comes Closer
DAY 7 – Swirling Colors of my Mind
DAY 8 – White – Red – Black
DAY 9 – Different World After
DAY 10 – Spring Hay(na)ku
DAY 11 – Love – Hay(na)ku
DAY 12 – Make Art – Triolet inspired
by Neil Gaiman and Chris Riddell
DAY 13 – What did you think would happen
to a child left on my doorstep?
DAY 14 – Ballad of the Lost Poet
DAY 15 – Writer’s class – Hay(na)ku
DAY 16 – What is a Nomad without a Tribe?
DAY 17 – Pale Spring, Here Again, Nature Awake
DAY 18 – Spring Day in the Garden
DAY 19 – Close Couplets
DAY 20 – Lost in Love’s First Flush
DAY 21 – She Tasted Like Memory
DAY 22 – Struggling Mind
DAY 23 – Written in the book of dust
DAY 24 – At the end of every week, Friday-Cozy!
DAY 25 – Slip, Crack, Shatter
DAY 26 – Humans Really Don’t Know
DAY 27 – April Rain
DAY 28 – Greeting the Watch Horse
DAY 29 – Letter of Hope
DAY 30 – Witches Walpurgis Night Preparation

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