False Spring

 

• False Spring

  April 1, 2026

  
  

  https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/31/poetics-false-spring/

  Spring knocks early on my door 

  Her cheeks glow like melting butter 

  A fresh bloom of daffodils lined up upon the window sills 

  And sturdy, concrete wall

  It is nice to wake to light – to have more hours in the day to read and write 

  Even the birds chirrup with a spring in their song

  Not that winter has properly passed

  There are still cold mornings and crisp, fresh frosts 

  The need to wear thick and toasty socks

  To wrap up in bed in the afternoons 

  Perhaps I am more aware of seasons but I can feel the world turning now

  Paddle a toe in its’ waters 

  The world continues a-pace and I am part of it.

  
  

  
  

  
  

April Madness

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/30/haibun-monday-3-30-26-mad-march-hare/

I remember the years of Alice. Following her down the rabbit hole. Chasing his cotton-wool tail. I never quite understood why we were always running - always late.  It left me quite at sea. No life-boat in the madness.  A Wonderland that started as a game but overtook my thoughts. 

Now, I step outside of the (mis) adventure. I am happy in my world. On bright days it unfolds in the only way it can. On darker days I know that I will once again see the tree outside - that there is always something to anchor myself upon. Lead me forward.

Mad March Hare busies

Leading me through time

I look forward to April  

What I Love

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/03/friday-writings-220-feeling-deeply.html

I remember the wind chimes on Euclid Heights Boulevard 

The place I fell in love in and equally fell out of life in

I was dreaming, dreaming, dreaming 

Watch the drying cement they called -

I had not noticed them working

I was so absorbed in being - living the dream

Funny really, how it barely seemed I loved anything enough to stay

I was running, running, running 

Perhaps now I have come to a stop I am free to love things more

An open window, a fresh sheet of paper - a tin of coloured pencils

They all make me smile - feel as if I am moving - not wandering 

Perhaps I am enjoying my days a little more

Leaving my own footprints on the ground -

Neither follower or followed  

I take a sip of tea on a new morning - 

Perhaps this is what I love - this moment, this place inside 

A sense of distance from what was 

And a clear head to make my own path. 

 

My Child

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/child-children.html

I am learning how to wrap my arms around my child

That part of me that was reduced to ashes 

(Little did they know that I would rise again) 

It is both hard and simple 

I cannot do what I never learnt 

All I know is that I need comfort -

Warmth, flavour, kindness, strength 

The feeling inside that I deserve(d) to be young -

And that I can take back what was stolen

I do not need pictures to know what I was -

They were ripped up anyway 

Maybe that's why now I turn to words -

I am giving myself a different education

Undoing the wrongs - 

And imagining how things can finally feel right.

Comfort Food

https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/24/poetics-tuesday-comfort-food/

The buttercup yellow butter

Trickles down my fingers

There is nothing better than toast and jam

On a windy evening

I hum a little, in-between bites

I do this when I am happy

Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth 

And making it clip like a reassuring footstep

Occasionally I may be tempted by cakes and colours

As I walk around the shop

But always the fresh bread finds its way on to my plate

I like the reassuring sound of it popping out of the toaster

The firm scrape of the butter on the knife 

And the crunchy slices within my mouth

All seems better when the stomach is quieted and full -

Happy, I think, in fact.

Silence

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/23/shhhhhhh-quiet-please/ 

Silence cocoons me like snow on a winter’s day

Keeping my ankles wrapped 

Safe as walking through marshmallow 

I like leaving behind a path of footprints - 

As if I have truly been there 

Not just silenced and cocooned inside my head -

But truly being.

Looking Back

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/03/friday-writings-219-looking-back.html

Perhaps now it is time to look forward 

Rather than looking back

The choices I have made are drawn strong on my body

But they are not the sole definition of who I am -

And what I still could be 

Even looking out the window 

Seeing the fields and hills in the distance

The soft clouds blushing the pale blue sky

The church spires - it is always there

A constant 'outside' which I hope one day to feel with my hands

Instead of just feeling the possibility inside myself

Perhaps I am scared of doing well

Perhaps I will continue to trip and fall 

But maybe, just maybe the landing will be soft (er)

As I will have the knowing of my past to inform my next stage.  

Anger

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/anger.html 

Perhaps like paint anger fades with time

What was once red slides into blue 

Like dipping your toes in a soothing tide

Letting the universal sky heal and love you -

For what you are - not for what you have done - 

Or used to do

All feelings ebb and flow 

Perhaps with time we forget what we were angry at

It just turns into the marks on your flesh 

And they fade with time as well - become smooth as a pebble in your pocket 

A ballast to hold on to 

A map of your journey 

Where no step is a mistake just all that you could do at that time 

I see anger as a fleeing dragon

Watching it fly away with a smile. 

 

Your Voice

https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/17/poetics-tuesday-irish-blessings/

I still hear your voice - it makes me feel strong on foggy days

It is both powerful and vulnerable - as perhaps you were

And I am too - the phoenix from the flame 

You gave me comfort and strength 

Led me to your homeland where I wandered the streets

Sat in churches and listened to conversations  

Any little nuance that would make me feel closer to you -

To understand the world that had formed in my head

Of course, I learnt that chasing thoughts

Is not a tangible affair - you were a person 

But what you gave to me was thoughts and feelings - the right to live

I miss you but am glad you showed me your magic -

The ability to both raise my voice and the capacity to ‘be’ enough for myself inside.

Inspired by thinking of Sinead O’Connor and what she meant to me growing up 

Lull

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/16/prosery-winter-lull/ 

“It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.”

“Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence
https://poets.org/poem/winter-lul 

The winter lull is like a pillow. I sink my head into it. Feel the comfort of its support. In my pocket my treasures rattle. A tiny little secret. No longer safe. But I like to warm my treasures in my palms. Make them shine - take them out only when needed. Then put them away.

The crows call and bring me out of my thoughts. They rest like ink-blots on a page. Proud, bold and sharp. Like black marks on lily-white pages. There is a new path to follow. To move the story along. Their caws no longer scares me.

Winter seems to have been and gone. Flowers begin to emerge. It is like a flash of colour after months of monochromatic morning walks. Time seems to tumble forth  

The world is there - it all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied. 

Ten Years

 https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/ten-years-later.html 

I cannot remember ten years ago

Perhaps the days have been both good and bad

I am still here, which is good I suppose 

There are no photographs or memories

Nothing to celebrate - no photographs or memories 

Inside I whisper to myself - I am still here

I have very few intentions - keep sober, stay safe(er)

At the moment that feels enough

My skin can account for ten years 

The absences and hallucinations also 

They ring as loud and clear as church bells

I am lucky that I have more chances - or choices

I hope the next ten years will be softer and gentler 

That I will continue to tend the fire inside.

Landscape

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/10/poetics-embodying-a-landscape/

I stand by the window 

The sun is rising and the birds are singing 

Cotton wool clouds pass by

I imagine they tase like sugar  

Big, juicy bundles of cotton candy

As sweet as marshmallow

The thought makes me feel full inside

Like it is worth staying another day

I would like to walk over grass again - climb a tor, see the sea

I wonder how that would feel - if it would be painful walk backwards 

Perhaps finding different places of safety is like moving on

Keeping the few happy memories of youth alive in my mind 

I am always moving inside - escaping, surviving 

But I am trying to absorb myself in the landscape I have for now 

Perhaps even thinking of a world outside and beyond is a start

More fulfilling than powders and pills   

I leave my curtains open and wait for a buttery sunrise

I hope it embraces me and makes me feel safe. 

Blue Bird

https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/09/quadrille-243-bird-is-the-word/

I place the tiny bluebird

In her soft and gentle hands

She smiles as broadly as the moon

Nestles it like a hundred golden pennies or fallen star dust

I know that she will let it coo and sing

Then let it fly away.

Humanity

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/03/friday-writings-217-your-message-to.html

I used to think my story was impossible to tell

Then I discovered kindness - humanity 

It is in the gentle things - the soft touch of caring fingers

A smile in-between the silences- just knowing, perhaps

If we learn how to treat ourselves well 

We can learn to love and honour the differences of others

It doesn’t require much thought

We all have pain - we all want it to be soothed - acknowledged

That is the spider’s web we all climb and fall, climb and fall from

It is best not to linger in the past

Rather, to keep walking, tiny steps at a time - move forward

If we are lucky there will be even more kindness on the path 

Or maybe our own hearts will change into a lucky, green clover. 

 

Woman

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/women-and-history.html

It’s curious - does being a woman come from inside or out

My body changes, but I no longer look down at my feet when I walk

My thoughts are changing too -

Quick sticks, polish the flowers, sweep the floor 

There is no rush to get to the ball

I think she is a woman, although trapped inside a story as a child

I look to the strong (grown) woman who sings

As I begin to find my (sober) voice -

I like that I am learning, that I do not need potions or cake to shrink - or grow 

And so I will run bare foot along the shore 

Rise up from the roiling waves 

Burn as strong as a pile of cinders

The world is opening up, I think

There are possibilities  - windows and doors

I say to myself - ‘I don’t want to be no man’s woman 

I’ve other work to get done’. 

“I don’t want to be no man’s woman…I’ve other work I’ve got to get done..”

Sinead O’Conner

Tumbling Thoughts

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/03/turn-of-phrase/ 

Orange magpie feather 

Tumble, tumble down the hill 

Bird man flies

So lost, so found 

Pick up dust, move on 

Wind soothes and bites

Tea placed on the table 

Cooling, cooling 

Ready to sip 

Noise hurts

Light hurts

So much banging

Inside

Outside

Drift to the stars 

Orange magpie feather

A distant time

A distant place

All will be well 

All will be well

- In the end. 

Life On Mars

 https://dversepoets.com/2026/03/02/haibun-monday-3-2-26-a-life-on-mars-tribute/

I don’t know how I will step out of my skin. If It will unzip like a winter frost and leave me bare as a tree branch in winter. I suppose it it part of the journey we cannot overlook or completely understand before it happens. I hope there will be peace. That I will have someone’s hand to hold. That a breeze from an open window will soothe my passing soul. 

I imagine the cool air tending a tried body. Opening up the final moments to love and light.

Casting me far and high into space. So that my life will become as magical in knowing that there is life on Mars. 

Winter wind soothes

Tired branches sway in time

The world is ready to leave.