Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

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Sheila 01823 67 28 46

Valerie 01884 84 04 22

Friday 25 October 2013


Moon-glow skitters over
glass - waters yearn upwards
sighing then subside.

Diamonds polka dot on
oceans - rapt lovers gaze in
self-absorbed illusion.

Day breaks - a red rose
peers through the mist to welcome
honest sunlight.

© Shelia Rogers 
All rights reserved

The moon emits no light of its own

Solero bolero
Horizon hues flambouyant.
Moon mirror round.

© Helen McIntosh
All rights reserved

Sun and moon

She was the moon day end to his sunlit splendour.
He the procreator, the giver of light and life;
Moon - the calm restorer,
Mistress by proxy of the starlit skies.
Sun and moon, dancing with the music of time,
Rising and setting,
Waxing and waning,
Their inevitable symbiotic cycle.

© Helen McIntosh
All rights reserved

Monday 21 October 2013

The moon emits no light of its own

Time was when the sun
And the moon disputed who
Would see me to bed.
No longer do they
Squabble. Cats curl up with me
As the screen flickers

And the cocoa cools.
Bedfordshire beckons and the
Light will go out - soon.

© Tim Scott
All rights reserved

October Country Living

How boldly Autumn paints the world
With shafts of golden sunlight reflected
In armfuls of cobnuts and conkers

Tidy the garden before the winter bites with
its earth still warm and workable
Fiery foliage and vibrant berries shout to be picked

Seasonal style means mellow makeover,
Warm comforting vintage heathery cashmere
Scents of purpose replacing sunlit freshness and warmth
Apple day gone, bonfire night to come

© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

A modest proposal

The croft overlooks the white horse sea and the whitewashed goat shed.  Heathered Cuillins behind.  No mains, no drains.

A quiet conversation gentle, yet full of risk, almost lost in the constant wind. Could I give up my freedom for this freedom?  Last ferry leaves in an hour he said.

© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

If I lived by the Sea ( Ode to St Brelades)

Sun fades as crescent moon appearsno fan fare,
dusky sky meets a rolling sea
relentless in its quest to land
cleaning the sand of all purpose
wiping evidence of the day

Greys, pinks and blues of light
pure against the crashing waves
rhythmic silence
a back drop of evening bird song
the string of promenade lights
giving shape and clean lines

Mermaids must haunt the distant rocks
hiding their tails from view
fishermen and sailors not daring to
think or look as they cut by
their balance and sea legs
feeling strangely under threat

Dog walkers return
to their homes of brick and stone
made of sand like the beach
feeling safer in the twilight
leads and balls packed away
legs twitching in the chasing dream

Hotel guests leave their balconies
for the warmth of the bar
old fears and scars disappear
as the day sinks with the sun
would I always feel like this

if I lived and loved by the sea?

© Liz Redfern 
All rights reserved

The moon emits no light of its own

Borrowed from across the world
transported as if by magic
Dream catchers flicking the sunlight
between lands skimming oceans

Carrying hopes and depositing them
a continent away to the beach by
another moon shimmering sea

So starting the ancient story again 
Borrowed, as if by magic
transported, from across the world

© Liz Redfern 
All rights reserved

Moon emits no light of its own

Sun reflected
Stardust falls through space

© Liz Redfern
All rights reserved

As Far As the Eye Can See

My eyes are clouding now,
though my heart is full of pearls,
ripened over long years.

My bones fail – yet
teeth crunch words
from the spring of
a still dancing heart

though it drifts a little,
towards folds of endless sleep

where sea laps on milky sand,
in the black coiled night
where the moon emits no light.

© Valerie Taylor 
All rights reserved

Harvest Moon

diminishing daylight
farmers gather last crops -
the sky thickens with dust

above the horizon
a low-slung sphere looms -
the colour of slow burning fire

light of the sinking sun reflected -
a huge mirror suspended

pulsing silhouettes 
wng it home south -

backlit migrating birds

emitted equinox moonlight -
a blood-red Japanese lantern

© Sophia Roberts
All rights reserved

Tuesday 8 October 2013

A modest proposal,

A modest proposal,
I thought
but then,
Not every teacher
has a
'Clothing Optional' beach
at their disposal

© William Botley 
All rights reserved

Well Met by Moonlight

His (he dares to) dark eyes have etched themselves
and sent quite, yes,
blatant messages.

I’m overcome by a flood of emotions.
I’m fox-trotting, doing a quick-slow tango,
dancing barefoot with sequinned toes.

I think this – may be it
in the middle of the Quiet years
– half drowned in dreams.

© Sophia Roberts
All rights reserved

Whilst we grew up

Whilst we grew up, our parents ached,
Endured our adolescence,
Mutely watching our mistakes.
Then when we finally flew the nest
With not a backward glance
Life began again for them;
They quickly took their second chance.

With us all gone, our rooms re-painted
Junk re-assigned, some boxed and dated,
They then began to spread their wings,
Ruffle feathers, collect more things..
Things they didn't strictly need
But really felt compelled to own.
A huge job lot of garden seed,
A little flat in a foreign town.

New ownership brought guilty pleasure,
Mental riches they could not measure.
My parents soon were hard to find,
Their foreign trips quite clandestine
We felt we knew, then, how to ache
As they'd done, when we,d had our cake
And eaten it, no second thought had we,
We'd done it all so trivially.

© Isabel Hare
All rights reserved

A Modest Proposal

I'm a shy, retiring type, deploring all but subtle
artifice. I'd like to live a simple life, give up the
Palaces and strife.
A modest, undemanding wife.

So here it is, my birthday test: to live just like a shepherdess
I'm going to give my all to sheep;
I've heard they mostly eat and sleep.

© Isabel Hare 
All rights reserved

A modest (or perhaps improper) proposal

"The money," barked DS Haggis. "Where?"

"Don't know, guv. Honest. I was look-out, that's all"


Haggis twitched, squinted. Surreptitiously flicking a switch, he murmured: "How about a deal, you and me, eh, Stubbs?"


"Fifty-fifty." Pause. "Sixty-forty then, your advantage. A long and happy retirement in Rio. What do you say?" 

© Sheila Rogers
All rights reserved

The Royal Prerogative

"Your heart, my sire, is an errant liege that wanders far and wide.
In Greenwich or in Canterbury 'tis restless as the tide.
I'll not pretend that I approve Your Majesty's philandering
so go your way, I will not stay to connive in your pandering.”

© Sheila Rogers
All rights reserved

A Modest Proposal on a Stormy Night

“Of course,” said the tall man.  “Welcome to my home.  My man will show you to the guest room and bring you fresh clothings.  Tomorrow we will locate your car and arrange for its repair. 

“It is agreed?   Good.  Please to come in.  

“And later we will have a bite.”

© Tim Scott
All rights reserved