Myopia – 26th May 2025

Written for W3 Prompt #160:
Pick a single abstract noun that carries weight, mystery, or tension for you—something like liberty, danger, truth, love, exile, justice, forgiveness, joy, grief, silence…
Don’t use it until your poem’s final line.
Start each line with a description or action that leads us toward the noun, not from it. This is called left-branching syntax—it means delaying the main subject or verb.
You’re working with delay, accumulation, and unfolding. The noun you’ve chosen arrives only at the end. Until then, build around it, toward it, beneath it. Let readers feel its shape before they hear its name.

From Deepseek:
The word “opia” is a fascinating and relatively obscure abstract noun that captures a very specific, almost paradoxical feeling. It refers to the ambiguous intensity of eye contact—that unsettling, electric sensation when you lock eyes with someone, and the moment feels both intimate and invasive, vulnerable and powerful.

as wolf eyes in the gloom,

catching light,

a subtle, fleeting stare;


a mirror ball shaken by each boom,

a wincing fright,

enraptured to suddenly share;




is it a gander or a gawk?

tension-charged,

a piercing wonder;


translating a silent talk,

pupils enlarged,

enraptured to suddenly ponder;




uncertain at the exchange,

intimate invasion,

objectified by the gaze;


spine-tingling and strange,

a powerful persuasion,

enraptured to suddenly amaze;




a possibility of aggression,

observer and observed,

at the edge of scopophobia;


or a dance towards affection,

both slightly unnerved,

enraptured in this sudden opia.

She’s A Puzzle – 16th May 2025

Shared with W3 – The Pararhyme Paradox around the theme of incompleteness.

All the pieces scattered across the floor

like the petals picked off the flower;


She loves me, she loves me not, some days

she loves to imagine how she dies;


A search for corners finds one amiss
this may, for a moment, mildly amuse;


She’s incomplete, though nearly whole,
so the hunt continues along for a while;


The missing part may be under wraps
or lying beyond the end of her ropes;
Every day, a new donning of caps
becomes the method by which she copes;


All your playbooks, now ripped and torn,
watching in wonder, awaiting your turn;
Under a bridge or to the manor born,
there’s a fire inside, ready to burn;
So she’s a puzzle, a partial form,
Yet here she stands, resolute and firm.

Threads – 12th May 2025

A waltz wave and forced erasure poem. I wrote the original poem (below) for this prompt at W3 Prompt #158:
• Form: Waltz Wave;
* A single, unrhymed stanza of 19 lines;
* Syllabic: 1–2–1–2–3–2–1–2–3–4–3–2–1–2–3–2–1–2–1;
Theme: ‘Strength and vulnerability’


While thinking about formatting, I felt like an erasure poem would be interesting, but how? I made it so with a little help from Deepseek.

steel
soft hands
bend
not breach

iron will
I won’t
break
apart

a diamond
under pressure
still shines through
my tears

flame
fragile
in flicker
enough
heat
left to
burn

Cold Comforts – 9th February 2025

There are lookers and there are seers
And those blinkered of the mind
Some are do-ers whilst others are be-ers
Finally, those who choose to be blind

Some see magic within the leafless tree
Finding comfort in familiar concrete
As cold and unforgiving as they may be
Rainbows bloom all along the street

Some days, the sees will turn to looks
The busyness of time puts on the blinkers
Turning towards the turning page of books
The seers become the thinkers

The wanderlust begs the wonder lost
Learning is the unlearning to see
Expanding knowledge comes at a cost
Soon blindness becomes the reality

Inspired by writing at this post on the Spinning Visions blog and contemplating how we lose our sense of wonder as we age and become wiser, or at least, more filled with knowledge.
7th Nov 2025 – Shared with W3 – comfort – not quite to the prompt but adjacent at least.