Poem of the Day



The Keyhole

by Walter de Jong


Our cave we called the Keyhole,

we’d climb up there to see

the ferry carrying families

that drove out to the beach.

I’d sit there and imagine

floods rising high back then

to carve for us this keyhole

then rejoin the world again.

That door opened secretly

to millennia before

the cars, the ferry, boats and planes,

schools and rules and laws

And now…The ferry’s gone, and rust has taken

cars and boats and planes.

While I move on the Keyhole stays,

the secret place remains.


  • Submitted in response to 2016 Poetry Prompt #1


Poem of the Day



by Virginia Lowe


They found a cave one summer

on the beach front

A yew tree flourished above

held by roots

clutching the walls

Underneath was dark and cool


Secluded and safe

no one knew they were there

They stored drinks

a rug to sit on

Over weeks

they played pirates

treasure hidden on a root-shelf

at the back.


The creaks and groans

only added to the atmosphere

until the Sunday

of a summer storm

when they sheltered there