National Poetry Day

I didn’t know today is National Poetry Day until I took my usual early morning look at Twitter and found it had a theme, the environment, which got me thinking I’d written a poem on it at some point this year – and yes, here it is:

After the storm
trees hold, shed twig,
branch fall, roots torn,
survival, just, lament
their like, cut up, lifeless,
rivers cry, enough, too much,
another day, another named,
helpless tall, weakest, proud,
spring calls, sapped, new bud,
fractured, scarred obey.

Yet Then Again by Eric Daniel Clarke

A poem of mine in MasticadoresUsa today – my thanks to it’s editor, the poet Gabriela Marie Milton – where would so many of us be without Gabriela’s feel for our words…

MasticadoresUsa // Editor: Barbara Leonhard

Image provided by the author

Yet Then Again

by Eric Daniel Clarke
Twitter @EDC_Writing

Looking back, he’ll admit
idyllic days he hasn’t lived,
close to let filter through,
an image, an hour or two,
strolling, easy words between,
hands held, his recall, the sun
out too, yet then again, it may have
rained, he didn’t catch her name.

Looking back, she reflects
that day not of her best,
her recall he wanted more,
yet all he did was hold her hand,
that sudden shower didn’t help,
her thin dress, transparent view,
his eyes, she remembers now,
averted, yet then again, she ran.

Eric Daniel Clarke is an Englishman, raised near the Jurassic coastline of Hardy’s Wessex. He has spent his adult life near the river Thames, working as a scientist at the boundaries of the physical and life sciences. Now in his later years he finds himself writing…

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You understand me?

Hello stranger, yes, I’m well.

It sounds to me you feel as I do,
you’ve been away for far too long.

What am I doing at the weekend?

Oh, you know, I’ve a mind to spend
some time with you.


Thank goodness I’ve caught you here.

I’ve just got home to freshen up, been
at the hospital all night, going back again.

I’ll tell you later, this needs to calm a bit.

It feels as if I’m being laughed at from above,
it all feels too much.


Yes, it’s been a long and lonely night.

I know you’re trying to help.

It’s so hard to talk about, I feel
I should be coping, and I’m really not.

You understand me? No one really does.

Wounds I Healed – Of Erin

A week ago ‘Wounds I Healed’ released, as was, as is, head high #1 on

A poem from within, a blogged link to Ingrid, real – and another poem here of Erin, of my mind, imagined, real?


I’m confused to be honest,
I thought we were quite happy and moving along,
then it all got a bit miserable,
I was about to go to bed, I guess I’ll not be sleeping yet.

You say you have missed me,
yet shown no sign of wanting to talk,
don’t you see the mixed signals you’re sending,
you went not me, I don’t want us to keep being like this.

It throws me every time we stop and start,
every time you come back you blame yourself,
when you go you blame me, you’d feel the same
if I did this to you, never knowing where we are.

I’m sorry you feel like that,
no, I’ve not been stringing you along,
I thought we’d have met, it’s just not happened yet,
I don’t really know what else to suggest.

I’m not sure I can give you what you want,
yes, I want you to be happy too,
no, I’m not perfect, I have my faults as you,
it’s taken a long time, sleep well, I believe we will.

Clear Up

‘Make sure you clear up’
young to old how often told,
childhood toys through paint and glue,
bikes upturned on kitchen floor,
endless times clothes taken off,
tools the lost and found of DIY,
most of all the dreaded dust,
seen, unseen, ‘Don’t make a fuss’

Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women is out! — Short Prose

Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong WomenWounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women is out! To the readers: A stunning poetry anthology. From its gorgeous pages, pain driven away by healing. Souls who endured, fought, and won. Some of them still waiting to win. Empowerment. We all need it. The life of women. We all…

Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women is out! — Short Prose