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My brain must have some spaces

Where secrets can be stored

And though I keep them hidden there

They cannot be ignored.

I think about them often,

Though no one else may know.

They come with me when I leave home,

No matter where I go.


I sometimes have to let them out –

They can be hard to store,

But when one secret is revealed

There soon may follow more.

To share them brings me great relief,

Since truth is hard to hide.

How special is a trusted friend

In whom we can confide!


Monty Edwards

Monty says: “The prompt got me thinking about secrets, where we keep them and how they can affect what we say, do and feel.”


Rippling Gravity

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Rippling Gravity



A tranquil pond that’s glassy smooth

has surface tensioned skin un-grooved.

No creases spoil its surface layer

when peace and stillness fill the air.


Then one disturbance, pebble’s plop

an insect’s hop or stray raindrop,

creates a pattern we’ve just traced

to forces found in outer space.


Rippled wrinkles, round ornate

make circled waves that radiate

while rising, falling with the force

of gravity, which holds their course.


Space-time’s fabric will behave

in similar ways through gravity waves.

This rippled force from far beyond

makes patterns like our little pond.



by Celia Berrell

Contemplating the topic Secret Spaces makes me think of my own wrinkles!  Oh and ripples in fabric, water and space.  What could be hiding within those folds?  Scientists confirm there are such things as GRAVITY WAVES. These spaces were so secret they went un-detected until only recently.

The knitters Club

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The Knitters Club

Eight year olds

With needles in hand

Wool under arms

A little craft band

Sit in a circle

At lunch break

On the oval

Life is great

This craft of old

Will never die

With these mini grannies

Knitting on high


Jeanie Axton


While on yard duty on the oval one lunch time I came across a little group of knitters. They were very enthusiastic about their craft and that was the inspiration for this poem.

I Wish

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I Wish…


Oh goose you fly so very high,

I wish that I could too.

Up up, up up, into the sky,

There’s nothing I can do.


I stand here wishing I’d grow wings,

I never hope for other things.

I dream at night that I’ve gained height,

And the earth is almost out of sight.


But here I am, stuck on the ground,

Never to be seen or found,

Up there with you oh goose,

For I am just a humble moose.


Oh moose as I look down below,

I notice you especially.

You graze the grass, you sip the lake,

You wander so majestically.


Your antlers have such symmetry,

They make a stunning crown.

Your fur hide, is a royal robe,

Magnificent though brown.


And since you simply cannot fly;

You’re never going to fledge,

I’ve bought a gift – an airline ticket,

With a dozen golden eggs.


So dream your dreams,

You never know just what you will achieve.

Many things are possible,

So long as you believe.



Louise McCarthy

A Secret Space


A Secret Space


There was shelter –

An upturned water tank

With an entrance hole —

My secret space

In the brittle summer bush

Where I’d hide,

Dark and bruised and splintered.


In those childhood days

I was an outlaw of sorts,

Travelling alone,

Not fitting anywhere,

Listening to cicadas throbbing

With song,

Beyond words,

Wanting nothing

But the arc of my mother’s arms



Dianne Bates

An hour of fame


An hour of fame


I’m standing proudly centre stage,

I grab the microphone.

The love from all those avid fans

rains down on me alone.

I launch into my favourite song,

I belt out the refrain.

The crowds are screaming out for more.

I take the mike again.

I’m really pumped, I raise the pitch,

I give it all I’ve got.

I’ve never known such warm applause,

I’m feeling pretty hot

until my mother calls my name

and interrupts my song:

“Your sister needs the bathroom now.

You’ve been there way too long!”


Jenny Erlanger

Poetry Prompt #37



Hi everyone, here’s a visual prompt for you this week. What does the image suggest to you? Think yourself back to childhood and let your imagination roam freely. This is my final Poetry Prompt as I hand over to Jeanie Axton, who has generously offered to look after this site. A big thank you to everyone who’s been submitting regularly. I’ve enjoyed reading your poems and connecting with you during the past few years. Please keep your contributions coming in. Send poems to Jeanie at as a Word or Text file attachment and add a few lines about your writing process.

Happy writing!