Blue (with Audio)


As a diminutive mountain range, her skin peaks
and troughs on feeble hands that tremor
untouched by rushing air
her legs weak, flat black shoes
adorn arthritic feet
with grim determination, she stands
holding fast the cupboard door,  that he
painted not so long ago

Her moistened eyes close against
her wrinkled cheeks, her curled grey hair
rests against the jacket of brown tweed that she 
clutches to her heart
this jacket, worn with cream pants and
beige shirt, he always had to coordinate
his clothes laid out across their bed
all those years, all those mornings

she never asked if he liked blue

Saying goodbye, not remembering words spoken
staring at the photograph of the man she loved
the flowers, words of sympathy washed over her
like astronomic waves trying to drown her pain
holding his jacket to her mouth, she breathed
his scent, without cologne, kissed the fibres
that were him, till the wool grew wet
smelling the man she loved, who gave her love
she folds, with upmost care and trembling fingers
placing it inside the box

and wondered ~ if he liked blue

©jmtacken 6/4/2014

Sharing with –   Prompt 50 –  Today’s prompt is grim determination.

I did another recording, only because I really felt this needed to be spoken. I really appreciated everyone’s comments on my last one, however I did not do this again for praise on how I speak.

I apologise for the size of the box, I don’t know how to minimise it.

Emotions (with Audio)

it’s a corkscrew

strong hands grinding
around and around
penetrating deeper
as it breaks the particles
of sediment stained cork
that once was a heart
beating a regular rhythm
you can feel fragments splinter
one by one
as breathing mounts
not knowing where to go
you feel, under your ribs
an emptiness
days without food
it seems
a hunger
hard to describe
an ache
your intestines
in a tug o’ war
it’s the blade sharp
that’s plunged into the emptiness
it’s blood shot eyes
couldn’t sleep
it’s hangovers
too much to drink
it’s wallowing
without instruments
it pulls and tugs
in the pit of you
it’s how it is
void of rational understanding
the corkscrew

©jmtacken 4/4/2014

Sharing with Diverse – Claudia has us  doing the following –

So the challenge today is to write a poem that conveys certain emotions WITHOUT ever naming the emotion!! Now it’s up to you to figure out what I write/talk about.

I have returned for a little while – resting from study and the ‘every-day’ as I could not leave this.  Possibly a bit over the top.

Once you were there


We say goodbye to many things
from the little to the large
in days that pass

from empty plates, abandoned glasses
on the sink, knives, forks
shut in drawers

wave to silver birds taking to the sky
wheels in car parks, we
hold tickets to escape

conversations end, time again
is ours, click telephone
receivers, ears warm

unconditional love givers
who once greeted, wagging tails
leads and empty bowls

notes to dance with, silence overtakes
tunes faintly linger
in our heads

flavours in our mouths. sour, sweet
savoury, a moment on tongues
that dissolve

spring, summer, autumn, winter
seasons drift unconsciously
one to the next

the last word of love is goodbye
hearts crushed when two
become one

arms around bent shoulders
words of love, our last goodbye
flowers draped on pine

©jmtacken 28/3/2014

Tony at has us creating blank verse, that is verse which does not rhyme, but with rhythm . Let’s see if this belongs.



Life after death.    In my grief I am shrouded in a dark mist, waiting for the clouds to pass, the storm to abate. Could I hope to speak with you again?  The physical connection lost, the spiritual still alive?

“Can you hear me, our unfinished conversations”?

“Can you see me”?

“Are you now dancing together as you once did, holding hands”?

I sacredly guard your love letters, your words lie between you, as in life, now in death.

I will forever, bridge the gap, holding the lines of communication open, so that you may once again converse.


Shared with –

This is what came to me seeing the above photo prompt.

Who chooses



The power of the skull from distant lands
it’s effluvium beckons me, I know not why
mandible held against my lips, I inhale
it’s death into my soul, my once pure thoughts
now anomalous, suspended in the attic hollow
where reasoning once resided, I stand on stone
in wild winds, lightning sutures blotted skies
can I recant the voodoo which enslaves me
my mind blank my body weary, the meaning unknown of why
I was chosen to wield the blood stained shears
that grew from straw, held high above my head
I shout unto the universe
“Release me from this darkened hell”
“I am not stopping you” I hear it whisper in return

©jmtacken 25/3/2014
Straw-effluvium-suspension-anomalous-attic-recant-suture shears-voodoo-whisper
10 words used for the below in the prompt for

The sounds of blindness (DVerse) x 2


aeroplane hum engines
offset against sweet songs of birds
as a door closes behind me
to the breath of wind

a pigeon coos
blinds tickle the window sill
as I close my eyes ~ absorb

a dog barks
a child laughs
wind picks up I hear the leaves
crunch against another

no silence in the world
yet what I hear has been
collected in memory
matching what I have seen

how is life for those who haven’t witnessed
unable to describe what they hear
I am grateful for seeing what I have
not relying on my other senses
of smell taste or touch

another bird joins in the chorus
door slides hard along the rails
and on a tv show
the sound of horses neighing

©jmtacken 14/3/2013

# 2  I wrote the below in March 10th 2013 – when I thought all poetry had to rhyme. I have altered it slightly from the original. I thought I would add this in.

I hold tulips peeling petals to unfold
hold on to my wedding ring and imagine what’s gold
lift my face to the clouds
that I’m told drift through the sky
sadly miss the expressions of those who walk by
touch the leaves that curl brittle on trees
listen to buzzing from the hive full of bees

fingers embrace spider webs lacy and glossy
hear as a mother shouts, angry and bossy
imagine the stars on warm summer nights
though never to witness them sit in the sky
jump in the crest of the waves at the beach
set my goals high for things I can reach

cannot see faces of those that smile wide
or the glow and the love on the face of a bride
can hug all the animals four legged or two
won’t see lovers face as they bid me adieu
painting butterfly wings coloured and frail
touch my words that are penned in braille

visualise the flight of a woodland hawk
or the joy I would feel to see my child walk
I can feel shiny, the dull, old and the new
wet my fingers on blades of first morning dew
I grasp hold of tree trunks that stand tall
in the forests, run my fingers across sculptures
and paintings of artists

I wish to see happiness in the faces of lovers
or stare into eyes of lonely street beggars
love I would feel sighting a newly born babe
I cannot have this ~ there is no escape
let me see those who share wealth with the poor
show me the sadness of those who yearn more
witness the sun on a hot summers day
look at the snow, slowly drifting away
I see things that the sighted perhaps
do not see
is it a gift or simply just me…

© jmtacken 14/3/2014

Sharing with   dversepoets  Brian has us writing with any of the other senses, but you cannot use sight. You have to tell the tale or build the poem using your taste, touch, smell, what you hear—but no imagery…nothing I can see.

Then and Now


lips briefly scratch the surface of cheeks, you make your way to work
where were we?
when mouths just touched erotically, causing pulses to race

hands are held, but it’s I, that grab your awkwardness
what begun?
as your tongue manipulated my finger tip held in your moist mouth

we sigh in exasperation after cross words, or the garbage not emptied
where was I?
as breaths grew deep making me dizzy with anticipation

you hardly touch my face, except to wipe the crumbs from morning toast
where were you?
as you cupped my face within your hands drawing my bottom lip into your kiss

your arms encircle me, when others comment how in love we are
what happened?
as skin felt on fire and we smouldered at each other’s touch

I remember ~ the flashbacks give me hope

©jmtacken 13th March 2014

Sharing with Kerry has us creating a flashback moments



fired wax
black raven high on branch
claws for the crescent moon ‘tween
ghosted limbs

cloaks flare from distant
gates, scurried feet echo
as laughter screams
through flames in darkness
of caves that shelter
the swords

blades that slice
through tethered rock
grind the ash
whilst ravens craw
in the closeted world of
barren souls
where shadows die

Sharing with realtoads

and yes this is where I seemed to go with this.


Inside lives (Prose)

within confines of the glass his world swirls
luminous bar, reflects gelled hair,  bowed 
heavy on the wood, clenched fists, wedding ring
he’s not old, not a kid
first impression, judgements passed
others make the call
problem with booze, fight with the wife
lost the high dollar job
quietly slurs  ~ “another”
bartender nods, been a regular, last few weeks
as stares held within the glass
headlights caught in blocks of ice
no-ones know his life, not you not I
moment stands still
his son’s giggling echoes  ~ taunts in his ears
car tyres splash
~ the thump
the silence
a winter’s night, car uncontrolled
his life now void of young laughter
©jmtacken 28 Feb 2014
With a nudge from Brian I share this with dversepoets   Brian has us developing characters in our poetry today.  Come join the fun – write, read others and comment – as that’s what we do! 🙂

Can’t you see me (Prose)


what was your journey
did you pirouette ‘cross mirrors
glass unyielding
drift on gondolas
floating rivers of satin


or was your world defined
by fear
each breath inhaled
hope disintegrated
the days you woke
a burden upon


you reached
but no one grabbed
you cried
but tears weren’t heard
a journey leading no where
in silence
held yourself in you
as no one understood


your fragility hidden
you held no signs
lost my way, I am weak
can’t you help
can’t you tell
the battle fought


did your self esteem
waft in vapours
from the coffee cup you held
early morning air suffocating
the days that you felt strong
trying to fit, the jigsaw puzzle in
your mind


let me help you pirouette
once more in life
dance across this stage of so called
for it is all around us
it is not you

©jmtacken 23rd Feb 2014  – Fiction

Photo Credit:Falln-Stock    Shared with Mind Love Misery’s Prompt Prompt 44 Immobilizing Paronoia