Sevenling (Hope is the other side)

Hope is the other side of despair,

hope is the helpless cousin to prayer,

hope is what's left when nothing else is there.

I want to turn it into intention,

I want to transform it into action,

or better, use it in advance as prevention.

But sometimes there is only rage and blame.

Written for Poems of Garden Gnomes (a sevenling on hope).

Sevenling (My Favourite Music)

Nothing made Freya happier
than to snuggle between Andrew and me,
purring all night in deep rhythm.

Later, when Andrew and Freya were gone,
Levi would curl up next to me and purr.
Now he too has left me; they are all gone.

My new cat is wary, and shares the bed silently.


Yes I know, comparisons are odious, and the new cat is gradually getting more trusting and affectionate. (She did purr the other night while sitting on my lap, as I wrote two poems ago.) I love her – and I still miss the others.

A sevenling for dVerse. We were asked to write about music.

Sevenling (I am the weed)

I am the weed you missed,

now grown to this tall, graceful tree

with three slender trunks from one root.

My feathery leaves, my pink seed-pods

and my long, stretching branches

rise high into the dusk sky.

I'm glad for my accidental life; aren't you?

Photo © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2016. This photo is mine and should not be copied or used in any way without permission. 

Written for Day 9 of Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads': Transforming with Nature's Wonders (writing on behalf of some piece of nature in our own environment).

Sevenling (I seldom wear it)

I seldom wear it. It was spelled

to protect my mother, not me, and
keep her well and happy.

A gift for her: our magician friend

chose the metal, spoke the charm,

and left it the requisite time under the moon.

Ah well, they are both long dead now.

(On my arm, not hers.) Photo © Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2016. This photo is mine and should not be copied or used in any way without permission. 

At 'imaginary garden with real toads', for day 7 of poetry month, we are inspired by bracelets. And at dVerse, in Meeting the Bar, we are invited to write sevenlings, one of my favourite forms. So I combine the two.

Sevenling (Connecting the Elements)

Even here in bed,

I never remove the pentacle

from around my neck.

The points of the star

signify earth and air,

fire and water, and spirit. 

The circle is life: we are all bound together.


Well, it's based on a sevenling at least. Each of the first two verses is supposed to connect three things. In my first verse there are three physical objects: bed, pentacle and neck. In the second it's a bit more strained, but I see earth and air as natural opposites (1), also fire and water (2), leaving the stand-alone spirit (3).

Poetic Asides November Poem A Day Chapbook Challenge: day 17, an element poem.
Also submitted for Poets United's Verse First (7 lines to do with work and place).

Also submitted for Poet's United's Verse First (7 lines written in a place where you don't usually write).

Sevenling (Relating)

David, Julie and Alesha moved closer

as the lovely lady read my aura.

‘Are you all family?’ she asked.

‘This is my son,’ I said, then hesitated.

‘I’m his partner,’ said Julie, ‘And this

is my child.’ I relaxed. Hooray, it's official!

The reader said, ‘Your aura is full of love.’

Poetic Asides April Poem A Day Challenge 2013, 7: Write a sevenling.
Submitted for dVerse Poetics: The anecdote (though this might be more a vignette).