Red red wine goes to my head

Red wine has passed my lips
addicted to cherry red
and I have supped not sipped
like blood my mouth has bled
in the haze of wine
process of thoughts are hazy
the taste of grape sublime
mouth draws to rim so lazily
gods would smile the harvest grand
not picked by I, would be a thrill
to hold the purple in my hand
the yield of fruit so bountiful
from vine to barrel can’t be dismissed
the red, the wet, that I now kiss

Copyright JMTacken 2.5.2014

For DVerse. I apologise I can’t paste the link on this IPad for some reason, I shall fix tomorrow.

Tony has us working on Sonnets. I am pretty hopeless at this point trying to work this out. We have had visitors this evening..I have consumed some red wine. It’s 12am, this is the best I could do. ūüôā ¬†Forgive me true writers of Sonnets.

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.

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 Рwhen 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‚ÄĒbut no imagery‚Ķnothing I can see.

Simple Metamorphosis (Prose)


myself as I
they as they

writers soared heights
I, background eyes
knowledge not of verse
hid cocooned

word love peeled
layers, pupa burst
abruptly changing

immature ~
grown ever more
and in time
perhaps complete

these crystalline wings
unfurl, desire to coat
styles, structures
till I fly uninhibited
as other butterflies

©jmtacken 5th March 2014

Shared with Dverse Poetics

Anthony has us writing –¬†Evolution is a gradual process of development and I wanna know how have you evolved as a poet.

I started my blog 18 months ago not contemplating writing poetry, but with reading and learning over those months I became addicted and received encouragement to continue. Though not quite the butterfly as some are, I hope to fly soon.

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! ūüôā

About DVerse – For Dverse ( a little ditty)

heart and souls poured into it

that is pure co -mmit -ment

encouragement  ~  support

be it long verse or short

the doors remain open

for our prose or poems

///the rules may have changed   ( ///especially for Brian & Claudia)

but who are we to complain

all they ask is we write

read others THEN com-ment

not too much to ask?

such a simple task

yes this is a rhyme

as I’ve run out of time

Cheers to DVerse

and the people who lead

those with a love of po-e-try

a community ~  that is for sure

and we couldn’t

wouldn’t ask for more

ta daaaaaaaa!

Just a little bit of fun for the team at DVerse,¬† OLN, yes admittedly scribbled down within 2 minutes (Brilliant aren’t I?) ūüėČ Their doors remain open, we smile, ¬†so to Brian and Claudia and the whole team – from this Aussie wanna be poet – I thank you insert – ( take a bow). ¬†If you are into writing prose/poetry and haven’t checked them out – please do – they are a very supportive and encouraging group of friendly people.

For my brother R.I.P (Prose with music)



and play

Send a whisper back, to who was loved
catch the moment they may hear
enshrouded veils of yesterday’s
if I could reach through years
to bring you home

I would

Mountains, seas, harshness of winter
winds, heat of summer sun, do you feel
do you see ~ divided I trace momentos
can I bring you home again

Can I bring you home

holding to memories, your smile
laughter, the goodness you had
inside, misunderstood by many
free spirit you walked your own path

Have you found your way

My aching heart still lingers
when I think of you
the flowers next to frames
words spoken, so much time passed

I’ll always remember you

Photos holding you, the beads you wore
the poem I wrote leans against your heart
a reminder of who we were
who you were

A sister/a brother

Born into this world
not knowing of tomorrow’s
when you began to lose your way
perhaps beliefs could have changed
then you may have stayed

Return to me/to us

All I have is memories
and parts of you, you owned
your crystals, your scarves
the glasses that you wore

Come home

Silently cross legged
corner of room
symbolic mudra held
I glance and realise
silence of words

This belonged to you

This is what you left
majestically he sits, silent
eyes closed in my house
guiding, reminding me of you

My fingers wordlessly trace the wood

I hope that you dance and laugh
wherever you may be
that clouds are white not grey
that music fills your heart
that you remember me

Can I bring you home

I would if I was able
so you could be again
give a sign you’re happy
you hear my words ‘cross
tears that fall

Call a whisper forward

©jmtacken Feb 2014

My younger brother passed 10 years ago… today listening to music I felt the need to write the above.

Colleen from  wrote a post the other day. In this post were two lines that I was attracted to immediately  РSend a whisper back and Call a whisper forward. With her permission, I use these lines in the above- thank you Colleen.

I share this with OLN

Taken (A sonnet Bouts-rimes)


silently, shaking, lips taped for the

~ drive

complete silence they drove, she by his

~ side

tense frightened eyes, pierced the cold and dark

~ night

all untruths spat from alcohol, he

~ lied

his treat, her fear gave him thrills, was his

~ wage

hands bound with leather, she prayed to be

~ saved

smirking beside her, the faces she

~ made

 insurmountable thrill, gained from her

~ face

young girl, starting out her life as a

~ nurse

breathing uncontrolled they drove past the

~ church

she knew if she fought her pain would be

~ worse

remnants of her life flung out from her

~ purse

dragged out, forced on knees told not to look

~ back

whiskey breath, he sliced, had pleasure in

~ that

©jmtacken Feb 2014


So tempted to put boowahaa on the end…

Tony at Dverse ¬† ¬†has us writing on the following – I don’t know where my brain is sitting right now..oh and Happy Valentine’s Day‚Ķ¬†

Bouts-rim√©s¬†(boo reeMAY) is French for ‚Äúrhymed ends‚ÄĚ. It is the name given to a poetic game in which a list of words that rhyme with one another is given to one or more poets who then make their own poems, all of which use the same rhyming words in the order in which they were given at the end of their lines.

The words are:  drive, side, night, lied, wage, saved, made, face, nurse, church,worse, purse, back, that

As you can see, there are fourteen words, so a fourteen line poem is what we’re after. You might want to stretch yourself and try writing a fully formed sonnet in iambic pentameter (that’s 10 syllables in a line, with the stress on the even-numbered syllables), but you don’t have to … smiles.

I stretched myself had them all in the wrong order and re-did thanks to a nudge from Brian once again – so thank you.