Monthly Archives: November 2017

Finito…A Month With Yeats – Day 30

iphone disaster

“And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,”W.B. Yeats



When mercury in retrograde descends
all manner of calamities ensue
before my final poem could be “penned”
I dropped my fragile iPhone in the loo!
It’s glaring at me now, it’s apple face,
perpetually glowing like a fool.
That bloody thing is buried now in rice
what peaceful thoughts I might have had are doomed.
Oh, woe is me, for I am out of sorts.
It almost makes me want to grab a pen
and scribble in a notebook just for sport…
it takes me back, you know, rememb’ring when.

Perhaps I should be thanking mercury
for making me endure this misery.
Without my phone intact I finally see
that I don’t need it to write poetry.

(but I do hope the rice works and my phone comes back to me)


Not the poem I had envisioned for my final poem this month-long challenge. I write most everything on my iphone…well, except this little rant. I suppose it’s a good way to end the month. Sometimes I take my poetry and my writing too seriously. This definitely put it into perspective for me. My head is full of words. I just need to scribble them down. That is the important thing. Thanks Jane Dougherty for this “Month with Yeats”.

Strong Heart – A Haiku

a resolute heart…
determined, but not heartless
conviction takes heart


For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, prompt words: Strong (resolute) & Heart.

Women Scorned

‘Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?’
—W.B. Yeats

Women Scorned

From the shadows, secrets silenced
by violence
with no amends
from vile men,

women have found their voice to tell
tales of hell
and finally
the world sees

that they refuse to be ashamed,
they’re naming names,
they will be heard!
Let truth emerge!


A Minute Poem for Jane Dougherty’s A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Nine.

Today’s verse is from Yeats’ Poem, ‘No Second Troy’.


‘I would that the Boar without bristles had come from the West
And had rooted the sun and moon and stars out of the sky’
—W.B. Yeats


when the world ends
it won’t matter who was wrong, who was right
when the world ends
and nothing’s left to fight for, or defend
will bitterness darken our path to the light
when the world ends


A Rondelet* for Jane Dougherty’s ‘A Month With Yeats: Day Twenty-Eight’ Poetry Challenge inspired by Yeats’ poem, ‘He Mourns for the Change That Has Come Upon Him And His Beloved, And Longs For The End Of The World’.

*The Rondelet is a French form consisting of a single septet with two rhymes and one refrain: AbAabbA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats. The refrain is written in tetra-syllabic or dimeter and the other lines are twice as long – octasyllabic or tetrameter.

Twittering Tales #60​ – 28 November 2017


About the challenge: Each Tuesday I will provide a photo prompt. Your mission, if you choose to accept the challenge, is to tell a story in 280 characters or less. Wait….WHAT?! YES! You read that correctly. Recently, the sages at Twitter announced that they were doubling the character limit. So, of course I am passing this gift on to you! When you write your tale, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale.

A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at

I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing a new prompt. And if for some reason I missed your entry in the Roundup, as I have occasionally done, please let me know. I want to be sure to include your tale.

Finally, have fun!

And REMEMBER…you now have 280 characters (spaces and punctuation included), to tell your tales. I can’t wait to see what you do this week.

Twittering Tales #59 – The Roundup


Hands by Pexels at

Starting us off…

Millie’s eyes sparkled as she gently lifted the fallboard of the baby grand, revealing its beautiful keys.
“Hello old friend,” she smiled as she sat down.
“Sarah, I need you to play your part,” Millie called to her granddaughter.
Sarah sat down, two fingers plunking.
(278 Characters)

From Ana at Timeless Classics:
Dey say you some namby-pamby cause you play piany, bud ah leddum know… It take strenth ta play! You gotta be strong! Ta play Dem keys like fa houahs en houahs ‘n at smoke en all? Night afta night? ‘Th all em ladies hanging out?… Naw. Cain’ no mamby-pamby do all a dat, sho.

From Lady Lee at Lady Lee Manila:
the old tune
fingers touch the keys
pain playing
doesn’t hinder her to play
memories still there

love and lost
challenges and hope
youth that was
hurt she felt
every note tells a story
that her life is lived
(206 characters)

From Reena at ReInventions:
“No. Can you guess my age?”
The speech was unexpected clear, and the manner was sharp. The boy was all of fourteen years, suffering from progeria. I did not know, if I could call him young or old.
Realization struck, that we have a lot to be grateful for in life.
(275 characters)
P.S.  Progeria is a disease of premature ageing. The disease came into focus with a movie called ‘Pa’ featuring the legendary Amitabh Bachchan.

From D. Avery at ShiftnShake:
unbroken anthem
until her song was over
she would play the tune

From Ron at Read 4 Fun:
Old together but the sound is still sweet. Lady Clairol matches hair to your black keys.  New teeth match your white keys. Couldn’t do much about the hands but it’s the sound that’s important. The sound is as ever. Piano rolls never go out of style.
(249 characters)

From Martin at Martin Cororan:
Into the fiery pit fell the fornicators; murderers, rogues and blasphemers, and as they frothed and flayed at the devils delight, Chris De Burgh began his song anew.
“The lady in red…”

From Di at Pensitivity101:
The tide has turned, I sit and recall:
Graceful fingers caress the keys,
Flood my soul with memories,
Endless countless melodies.
I look at my hands, twisted with age,
My caress is slower, I play through the pain
Reliving the magic with every refrain,
My gift has returned to me again.
278 characters

From Kathryn at Another Foodie Blogger:
Who’s hands are those? Those aren’t my hands. Why am I here. Oh drat, what am I supposed to do?
But the hands, the hands remembered. Once the fingertips hit the keys, the music flowed effortlessly and once again, she remembered.
(228 characters)

From Fandango at This, That, and the Other:
It had been quite a while since Edgar had last sat at the piano and, as he liked to say, tickled the ivories.
He regarded his arthritic fingers and wondered if they could still work well enough to play a piece.
Every stroke hurt, but it was, indeed, music to his ears.
(266 characters)

From Michael at Morpethroad:
His ancient hands float across the keys.
He holds us mesmerised as the music takes us with him.
His focus is far away, his fingers dance and intrigue us
we too see the pale girl, the troubled waters,
we feel her pain, we feel reconciled with her
the final note brings satisfaction.

From Jannat007 at Be Happy:
Sara and Lily sat in the music room and reminisced about the good old days when they both used to attend piano lessons. To make another memory together Sara plays the piano and as her fingers touched it Lily took the photo which turned out to be the last photo of them together.

From Radhika at RadhikasReflection:
The piano had been a surprise gift from her grandchildren. They knew her passion for playing the piano, but she had never been able to afford one. Her old yet dexterous fingers were magical on the piano. Her maiden performance at the age of 80, received a thunderous applause!
Letter count 276

The beat flows through fingers, embraces black and white. Kisses keys, demands submission, whispers the heat of love.
The beat drums it’s rhythm, keeping pace with Cosmic breath. It’s the song of life, the song of begetting. Feel it’s kiss, surrender, feel it’s bite, surrender.
(277 characters)

From Kirst at Kirst Writes:
She won’t stop playing. Same slow waltz, over and over. It’s the only time she looks happy, when she’s playing that tune. No family ever visit – she was widowed young you see – so we can’t ask them. I wish she could tell us her story, but she hasn’t said a word in years.
(271 Characters)

From Vandana at Feelings My Freedom:
Miriam had been playing the piano since her childhood.
She had composed numerous symphonies that touched millions of hearts.
But it wasn’t Miriam today.
It was her husband Alex, moving his fingers to the rhythm of “You are my life!”
It was Alex, playing the eulogy for Miriam.
(272 Characters)

From Leena at Soul Connection:
Black n White Added Colors To His Life Since 35Yrs
Running Fingrs On Keys,”U Hold Spcl Plce In My Heart.2Day Is My Last Day At Club.Wl Miss U.Wish I Tk U Wd Me”
Wd Teary Eyes He Turn Arnd
Managr,”We Al Wl Miss U N Ur Music.Tht Is Ur Retiremnt Gft.Hpe U Lke It” n Pointd At Sme Piano.

From Peter at Peter’s Pondering:
She was only alive because she could play the piano. That much had been made plain.
Her family had all been killed! Her friends too!
She dare not play top C on the keyboard, that would give the game away.
She had removed that string to hang herself.
She would soon join her family!
(278 characters)

From Lane at Lane Burke – poet, traveller, person of letters:
Notes from The Entertainer punched into the stale air. This, she could still do. Inside she mourned the last dance, the last kiss, the last time she felt strong; beautiful. The applause in her thoughts gave way to the thunderous silence of her loneliness.

Well, I think everyone is settling right into the new character count. 280 characters still goes pretty fast! There is a chill in the air here in the North Hemi. Though, not as cool as it should be this time of year…(don’t get me started…) But since we are heading into December, I thought it would be fun to do a wintry scene. This photo from Pixabay’s Creative Commons, screamed several stories to me…is it a story about the horse, the driver, the people in the carriage, the small food cart in the distance, the people wandering in the mist in the park…the one-way sign? You can see where my mind went. All over the place! Hopefully, you all, with your creative brains can help me crack this mystery. There is a story here…I just feel it. Have fun…and see you next week at the Roundup!


A Creative Commons Photo from

The park had been Roberto’s territory for decades, like his father before him, and his father’s father. Oh, the stories he could tell you about the passengers who hired his carriage over the years. And tell you he would except, you might not understand his whinnies and brays.

(276 Characters)


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