My Window


As I sit there on a rock
on the highest top.
Of a little island

surrounded by beauty of the sea

Looking round with a joy that hurts
I see the sea – surrounding me, hear whispers
From the wind talking to the sea and
from glistening rocks, smiling.

Seagulls and terns sail and swoop
with grace and joy, being their pure selves.
Me, I am transfixed to be, just now

part of this peace,
that fills my heart.

Lifting my arms to the sky, I speak
words I never known before
They seem to fill me – like the wind
that lifts the gull.

Scents of heathers drifting down,
Down the rocks
Filling every crevice, filling me.

© miriam ivarson

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The Darkest Fairytale

I’m a pirate of life
Aching for treasure,
Feeling the freedom
Is what I pleasure.
I’m a pirate on land
Not one with the sea,
I’m following a compass
To find a part of me.
I’ll sail in my depths
To find caves hidden,
Whilst I test the current
Of a land forbidden.
I’m free with myself
But not the ocean around,
I’m searching for treasure
On this hollow ground.


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Pandora’s box

The Darkest Fairytale

I dreamt I was searching
For Pandora’s box,
Buried in an abyss
Of darkness and rocks.
Whilst searching
I was tortured by pain,
Of a thousand souls
Hell couldn’t contain.
But in all this torture
I was approached by hope,
It was anchored to my life
And I was the rope.
After the tests and trials
I stumbled on a cave,
Were the box was open
& the world was its slave.


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The Beauty Of Dry Grass – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: kapa65 at pixabay.com

“In nature death and decay are as necessary – are, one may almost say, as lively – as life; and so nothing is wasted.” Wendell Berry

The Beauty Of Dry Grass

The furthest bounds of the garden
are covered in pale, dry, crackling grass
and a confetti of redgum leaves that
crunch underfoot, the soil, hardly a 
soil, just dry sand rising as dust with 
each step, a place of no life all transformed 
in an instant of rain, gone the smell of 
dryness, now a cloy of musty, rich damp
smells, the sand now sticking to my shoes,
soaked grass darkening, collapsing to the 
ground, and as I pierce the earth and turn 
the soil, capturing all this beautiful dry life,
I rejoice in how nature gifts itself with life,
that every death is a becoming.

Copyright 2022 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

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Word of the Day Challenge


Today’s Word of the day is Task.

If you want to participate, create a pingback to link your post. Not sure how to do that? See how to create pingbacks here. Please note that for the prompts that I publish, the comment box will now remain open for people who experience trouble with pingbacks. However, I won’t guarantee a quick response to actual comments, that would be left here. If you have questions, or ideas you’d like to submit, please use our “contact” page.


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Week Three: Great Reads Creativity Prompt Challenge

Brave & Reckless

My apologies that I fallen so far behind in posting my Great Reads Creativity prompts and responding to your submissions- I spent most of January knocked on my ass with the flu (thankfully NOT covid), migraines, and a fibromyalgia flare-up. The combination of the holidays and Winter weather are really brutal for those of us living with chronic illness. Fingers crossed, I will be able to fully catch up by the end of this month.

My current prompts are drawn from the books on NPR’s most recent list of Great Reads. Sometimes it was the title that drew my eye (how could I resist the creative lure ofThe Book of Difficult Fruit?!), sometimes it was the book description (All That She Carried, for example). I hope to accomplish two goals: to inspire you creatively and to encourage you to add at least one of these titles…

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