Howling – (Prose from 3 words)

Once again from the delightful ever humorous  who has given me 3 words to use…. they are Wolf, Mountains and Pines. Straight away I knew what I would do with these, so hopefully I have pulled it off.

Photo Credit

Her howl guttural, through lifted jaw she
snaps the silence of early morn; veils of sun
break between the pines, her teeth and cry
validating strength

she stands majestic, a reckoning force
against enemies in the mountains
winter bitter, she hunts to fill her cubs

empty bellies, hungry cries; they wait
secured in den, reliant on the offerings
that would be returned

she bays
she seeks
this wolf
of Montana

©JMTacken Sep 2013


Footnote: If any one would like to throw me another 3 words to see what I come up with, please feel free – I do enjoy a challenge…. oh and try and keep them clean 😉

from warmth to ends

blah grey..maybe if I shut my eyes
squint my face, turn three circles
the sun will shine again
..nope that didn’t work

blah rain…maybe if close one eye
twist my mouth to the right side
tilt my head towards the ceiling light
the sun will….
nope no joy there

blah undomestic bliss returns
…maybe if I grab the doona
shuffle my whole self underneath
it will disappear…
nope you guessed it
that didn’t work either

blah…the time when you
come home, unpack
put a load of washing
on, hang it up on horses (not real ones)
that would just be stupid

watch telly, look at each other, both
say “can we go back?” we know
we can’t, switch the station
YAY …. cricket…no not YAY at all
and daughter’s on my MAC
right where’s my IPad

The let down, the exhilaration of being away, having a holiday, viewing the world in a different light…only to return to the same furniture, the dishes not put away (thanks daughter #2) and the ..well the same ol shite. Ho hum holidays so good in one respect, so nasty in another. We left at 27deg C we returned to 100km winds, rain and Eskimo temperatures.
What more can I say (and yes the poor dog next door which belongs to the couples daughter and they have been minding him all winter) is outside on concrete and cries….that is stressing me more than being back.

Day before we leave

This isn’t’s a free write that I wrote into my phone as Mr. S and I sat on the foreshore overlooking the beach. It’s..well simply me..being ‘Mums’ and writing what I felt and saw.

Mountains in the distance..
but not that far away, tree tops
that are broccoli fully grown and
depending on the angle of the sun and
shadows cast, something in-between

the foreground of the sand trees
a brighter green, shrunken against
the back drop of the hills
yachts whose sails are brilliant white
flutter against the sun, into
the breeze

flat is the ocean, a dinner plate
not yet filled, until the crest of
white disturbs it’s calm, the dish
now starts to fill, sitting on the
foreshore with late sun
observing teenage love holding hands
and impressing

remembering the openness
of kissing, casting inhibition aside
the cloud that stops the sun
not darkening thoughts of love, as on the path
people walk dogs, ride bikes or jog
and palm tree fingers flicker
in the summer air

thinking who I love in this world
how privileged I am to feel this way
to witness what I do, knowing tomorrow
the plane will take me home
the cold will hit my skin
I write as the sun heralds its goodbye

a tear surfaces in my eye, a knot forms it’s
way into my stomach, I breathe deep, stay
centred..knowing…our lives are here
and now, how beautiful our surrounds are
if we only stop and open our eyes… to think
each day a holiday and not just for now

here and now- The Daintree for DVerse

I apologise if I can't get the link to work 😦 connection and this new toy of mine are not wanting to co-operate. 😦  

open fig trees bent boughs roots entangled octopus arms submerge into mangrove mud as lizards run tails quivering dancing in the 1960's memories of

tree snakes slithering hide and seek – coiling under cranberry coloured leaves whilst crocodiles drift sleepily eyes popped over gentle waves

stretched legs along the boardwalk rainforest canopy umbrellas protecting insect frenzy, back legs rubbing and darting fish confused swimming upstream

country town atmosphere; slow pace coffee to go; window shop along the river bank – no city pace friendly waves "good morning"

with the lapping of the Daintree, catch the tourist boats shuttling visitors back and fro – sugar cane dances on the breeze hawks circle for the cut spying

mouse or unsuspecting rabbit as their prey – mountains soar to touch the clouds; could I write this in a darkened room nay the visuals are what I had today ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I apologise Joe if this is not in keeping with the Theme for this week, but I'm holidaying and not staying indoors. This was my day and I wanted to share.
The structure even went askew…I'm giving up …goodnight…adieu.

an SOC write – just to see what happened – Prose

sittin’ at the railway station
bags fallen round my feet
legs crossed at ankles
just chillin’ layin’ back
lazily brush away the flies
that come to close and buzz
close my eyes and listen
smellin’ a storm start in the skies
and in the distance hear
the engine and iron wheels
along the track and
smile an inward smile
knowin’ I ain’t comin’ back
as my leather boots will
carry me to where I need
to go – don’t know where I’ll
end up, somehow I don’t care
give me country side and green
grass and yellow daisies for
my view cos’ I know I’m
crossing country in the hope
that I’ll find you

Ta Daaaaaaa!  Heeheehee  🙂

Stream of consciousness is a narrative device used in literature “to depict the multitudinous thoughts and feelings which pass through the mind.


through the pines – Prose

Rove beyond the pines standing straight and tall
gather bracken, wood and leaves to make our bed
lay your body on the ground, gaze towards the clouds
as you wait, I shan’t be long to take my place
laying by your side

hands we’ll hold and skin will touch as fingertips
entwine, we’ll watch stars shoot across the sky
capturing glimpses of the crescent moon that peeks and
hides, we shall listen to the night wind as it journey’s
through the trees and breathe the nettles of the pines that
stand so straight and tall

lips will meet with eyes open wide, I’ll stare into
the ocean of your soul, on a bed of bracken, wood
and leaves, as gentle fingers caress my back
quivering at your deft touch, the taste of skin has
quenched me, the moon and stars witness to our love

the night quietly fell away, eyes opened by the
sunrise just beyond the hill, through the pines
that stand straight and tall on the bracken, leaves
and wood; morning in the forest where we made love
the night before, I shall blush asking if you
love me, you answer with a smile, in my bosom
the beat is silent replaced with violins and harps

shall I tell you a story….


“Come away with me”.

Tatiana whispered the words out loud,  printed in capitals on the very first page.

Her sister had packed the book into her suitcase before she and Robert had left for the christening, insisting that she should not read it, till she was alone.

Robert was in such a great mood all afternoon and during the ‘after celebration party’ never let Tatiana’s glass run dry, even insisting on making her a cocktail on their return back to the cabin. Light headed, she had stumbled giggling, to the suitcase to retrieve the book and headed to the pier, not bothering to change clothes, the effects of the alcohol fuelled her curiosity about what her sister had given her to read.

She popped on her sunglasses and held the book high to escape the suns glare that now and then filtered through the clouds of the fresh autumn afternoon.

The comforting red woollen coat lay beneath her. The wooden pier warming and crackling as it breathed in the suns heat.

Her arm dangled and at times her fingertips disturbed the stillness of the lake, causing ripples on the surface.

Turning the page she continued to read, though her eyelids were growing heavy.

Even if she only got to the bottom of this page, she thought, she could close her eyes, enjoying the peacefulness and silence of the lake.

“The love that I have for you, like no other, soon, soon we will be together for ever and always”.

As her twin, the water below mirrored her reflection.

Tatiana struggled to keep her eyes open, her body felt heavy, something strange was happening.

A pain slashed across the inside of her chest as she recognised her sister’s hand writing.

“Have you enjoyed the read my dear Tatiana?”,  were the last words to pass her eyes before her last breath was inhaled.



Critique welcome.         This is my contribution for Picture it & write

‘Tween Winter and Summer Spring Sings Hello

candied orange peel toffee apple red
colours drift to ground casting autumn aside

gloom of winter darkened days
scattered shadows dissipate
frozen morns forgotten goodbye to
nights crispiness as it migrates
for another year

a new season has begun swaying harmony
blossom creaminess caresses the perfumed
breeze floating downwards laying natures carpet
beneath my feet soft blades invite themselves
between my toes spring shows her calling card

scented flowers rainbow from the earth
accompany shy buds eager to display confidence
trees dressed in petalled outfits snuggle leaves
to waken
light of spring holds till late no shadowy clouds spoil
and daffodil trumpets herald the sun to

vibrantly dance

romance smiling faces sun kissed lovers
stroll energised hand in hand

bees buzz
cats purring stretch lazily in sunny alcoves
eggs crack new born feathers break out

to spread their wetted wings
foals unsteady feet
greet the world in warmth on lush and
grassy knolls whilst
deers bend to nuzzle nose of young
hidden amongst forest verdurous
Spring permeating..perfumed..perfection


Open and welcome critique please

Written for

Blind Sight # 3


Last Week’s Submission –  Picture it and Write – 2nd version Blind Sight

Thank you to Marisa Lyon for letting us use her great photograph for this week’s prompt.

For something a little different I have decided (for this weeks Picture it and Write photo prompt) to continue the story from last week.  Critique welcome.

“Walk with me”, she gently whispers.
“I am scared”, I reply.
“I am with you, no harm shall come to you, I promise, you must trust me”, her voice was soft and reassuring.
“I do trust you”.
Slowly I stood from my desk and felt my way along the edges with both hands, till I reached a corner.
“Ten steps to the door”, she said.
I counted out my ten paces.
“Now hold out your right hand and feel for the door, then you need to turn right”.
I ran my hand along the door frame then turned as she asked.
“Twelve steps, almost there”.
I counted twelve, with my hands outstretched I reached a wire door. A warm breeze hit my face which made me blink several times.
My hands felt along the cold metal, till I found the handle and opened the door to the outside world.
“Just a little further, you are doing wonderfully”.
I smiled.
“There are seven large steps now, slowly”.
I held onto the side rail and gingerly placed each foot. They were both cold and warm to the touch.
“Now walk to your left a little, about fifteen steps”.
I walked across what I assumed to be the grass, for it was slightly spongy and cool underfoot.

“There is a swing, a seat that moves back and forth, turn around, hold your hands up either side of you and grab tight to the ropes, then you need to sit on the seat”, she giggled.
I hesitated, but she would not let harm come to me, I felt for the seat, the ropes and turned my back to them. Wriggling one side to another I sat on the swing in my garden, the garden that I had never seen.
“Now move your body back and forth, push hard”, she tittered.
I arched backwards and then pushed my body forwards and I was swinging for the first time in my life.
A feeling I hadn’t felt before as the warm air touched my face, my bare legs and feet bending beneath and in front of me.

“When I ask you to draw with charcoal, tell me what do you see”? she asked.
“I only have darkness, you know that, I do not know of colour”, I replied.

There was silence between us,  I would never know the concept of colour. Never know the colour of trees, steps, grass or the sky.  My world would always be black.

I felt her sadness within my heart.

“Please, I whispered, don’t be, you are my guardian angel and if I draw only with charcoal and never know the marks that I leave on paper, I am content. For what I do not know, I will never miss”.

I lifted my head up, as I swung in the air and gave thanks for the breath that I inhaled, that I could see the world through her eyes and that my heart was beating.



Apologies for the length of this submission…I couldn’t stop.

Weeping Willow

Studio 30 The Prompt –  Weeping Willow.
I have adapted a piece I wrote some time back.

Run in-between the rain drops
shouting my name out loud
I turn my head
I feel a blush, I laugh

drops from clouded skies
touch my skin, my
trickle down my nose

chase me up the grassy knoll
dress soaked through
I care not

warming winds carry
your words closer
to my ears
“Rose ….wait”

follow me my love
to the top of the
hill where the
willows brush the earth

you love me…is that really
what I heard
spirits shan’t be dampened
hearing those three words

pursue me capture me
my body as my heart
remove my transparency
for I am yours

nothing else matters
not the rain, nor the wind

you love me, I want you under

the weeping willow branches

willow tree 3