Hansel & Gretel

They’d wandered the forest for hours
finally admitting they were lost.
Now… hungry, tired too and growing
more forlorn upon seeing the
shadows growing darker.

Not knowing what else to do
the two dropped to their knees
whence a cute little bird darted
out of the trees and seemed to
want them to follow.

Soon, they reached a clearing
around which were scattered
several pumpkin patches with a
small cottage nestled inside.

Hunger quashed any fear they
possessed but,
as they passed the pumpkin patch
they didn’t see those pumpkins leer.

The house was unlike any they’d seen
made of gingerbread and everything nice
brother and sister so hungry began
pulling bits off, not once, not twice
but, thrice.

Suddenly, the small door opened wide
and a friendly gesture bid them
go inside.
As she closed the door behind the
unsuspecting pair the old witch
couldn’t stifle a cackle:

‘We’ll soon get you fed and fatten
you up, come on, come on, sit down
eat up.”
She encouraged with a smile.
‘And then you’ll be fat enough
for me to eat too.’ She added
behind a rotten toothed grin.


© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

Hansel & Gretel is a fairystory written by the Brothers Grimm. If you want to know more here’s a link. Hansel & Gretel The Brothers Grimm seemed to always write children’s stories on the very edge of darkness. I would almost describe them myself as ‘horror’ stories for kids. Not really my cuppa tea at all but, as it’s fast approaching Halloween, I thought this rather grim tale of theirs might suit.

Shared with Poetry Pot Luck #11 Halloween





In flickering gaslight he poked, prodded and carved.  He was tired from too many long nights spent working so hard. Grunted here and there as each lined up bottle caught bloody drops which dripped down in a gutter from each crooked sown limb. The storm reached its zenith as lightening intruded, cracked and flashed itself all around the room… striking the bolt that passed through the things neck and with a sudden twitched jerk… it then moved.
With a wheezed gasp and gurgle the thing broke its buckles and then snapped its wide leather straps too, with hefty thump… its two feet hit the floor ..as the scientist stood there wide-eyed and…. in awe. Doubting his mind and its sanity too as the man-thing made of so many parts realised his sentient being at last and with a gigantic leap as befitting only the same he crashed through the glass windows… falling, down down, down onto the sidewalk with resounding crash and, with quick glance up into the darkness of night, his bulk… vanished.


This is the famous Mary Shelly novel originally called: ‘Frankenstein;
or, The Modern Prometheus.’ first written in 1818. It seems incredible that it was written so long ago but, her first edition was published in 1818 and then a second edition was published in France in 1823. The Wikipedia write up on it all is very interesting.
A lot of people still mistakenly think that Frankenstein is the name of the monster created but it is in fact, the name of the scientist who created it (according to the book) the creature had no name.
I never read the book but have seen various movies, the original creature was played in a movie made in 1931 by Boris Karloff
I always felt sad for the ‘thing.’  He didn’t know right from wrong and he truly didn’t start off wanting to kill anyone. He learned to ‘feel’ and, taught himself to read etc. But, though he makes friends with a blind man and a young girl he is feared for being a monster and this sets a chain of events into motion of death and of his eventual demise
(until the next movie ….lol)

Shared with The Sunday Whirl Wordle #28

Silent Scream & Soliloquy

No-one hears the
silent scream
…but me.

The one that screams
out loud the most terrifying
sound but, its happening
from within.

The one that hides behind
the mask you wear for those
who don’t know your worries
…don’t know your

The scream that yells to
God from pain

Shouts at Him in rage

“Hey God…
If this is a test
I’ve had my fill.
I’m sitting this one out.
I’m too tired and too weary
for you to test me anymore.”


The voice of reason inside repeats

If God brings us to it…He will bring you through it.



I need to be strong
(tired of being strong)

I need to be Chloe’s Hero
(tired of being the hero)

I need to provide
(tired of trying to provide)

I need not to have to
(tired of having to)

I need not to need
(tired of needing)

I need a shoulder upon which to lean
(there is no shoulder to lean on)

I need to surrender
(faith allows no surrender)

I need to retreat
(there is no retreat)

So….. I scream the silent scream

And today

Rage at everything and
anything in
angry words that light
the page with a fire
that burns from this
hellish pain I thought
had gone away.

And then

the anger is spent
the scream inside me turns
to calm
silenced once again.


© Daydreamertoo      *All rights reserved

I was always told grieving is a process. All the experts tell us this in clinical, unfeeling terms. I loved deeply, so deeply that when my partner was dying, I felt a part of myself dying with her too. In fact I didn’t realise it until a very long time afterwards that yes, if we love that ‘soul-deep’ type of unconditional  love, a part of us does indeed die with the person who has passed.
I was so cynical about their cold ‘grieving’ process. How can they possibly describe that type of intense pain… the kind that feels as if someone has reached into your chest, ripped out your heart and left a wide gaping wound that no amount of time will ever heal and yet… they are right. Grieving is a process (for all it’s cold clinical terms)
I went through a year or more before I actually began to really grieve. For various reasons I’d had no choice but to live purely on fear, and fear alone for far too long. So long in fact, I had entirely forgotten what any other emotions felt like and had to then re-learn what it was to share joy and laughter again.
Once I was able to change our lives and in that way to let the very real fear I’d been forced by circumstances to live in go I then focused on my loss and I really began to grieve. I would suddenly have such an overwhelming rage. It would just rise up out of the blue and I had to be so careful because I would want to shout and scream and rage and lash out at anyone and everyone for my hurting. For the heartache.
And, that was when I turned inward, seeking answers to why love hurts, why God is so unkind, He takes away your joy, your blissful happiness and replaces it with raw and savage anger and a literal feeling of a broken-hearted aching pain in your chest and yet…
if we are lucky and we can go deep enough, we learn then that the pain we wish to have taken away, given away…. push away, is equal and the same as the joy of the love we shared. It is all a part of the same circle. We cannot give it away. It is ours. We enjoyed the pleasure of its love, but to enjoy love fully, we must always also end with knowing its pain.
Always been such a deep thinker (sometimes I think, I think too much) A friend of mine once told me I was talking rubbish when I said with all logic ‘Love cannot fail to hurt us”
She argued “love never hurts”
But, my point was that: Sooner or later, through illness, death, whatever, even if we spend a whole lifetime with someone, at some point, one or the other one get sick and we know the pain of watching them, or passes on, and one is left behind and knows the pain of loss, therefore, love cannot fail to hurt for whatever reason, eventually.

Anyway, although I believe in a higher power, I’ve never believed in any ‘organised’ religion. It took me over two years of deep introspection, and many prayers, much searching and seeking answers from God/The Gods and many moments of what my friends tell me have been ‘epiphany’ moments.  (These were moments that allowed me to see with so much more clarity, the ordinary, everyday things that are miracles in life, that through our rush to live our lives, we miss occurring all around us. We miss the point that life truly is a miracle, and such a precious gift and each of us is not an ‘I’ we are all ‘we’ and ‘we’ are all a part of the ‘cosmic oneness, an atom, connected to everything that exists everywhere.) And days when all alone on our favourite beach where I screamed and yelled to God and cried in pain and temper and prayers at the world and then I surrendered all the fight I had in me. Too tired to fight to survive anymore and all this had to happen before I was able to reconcile my anger/rages and realise that instead of pushing that dreadful pain away, I had to ‘own’ it. I had to open my arms and pull it into me and be glad to embrace it as being mine and, mine alone. I lived that love, I loved that love, I learned that love and, I discovered so much more about myself and having gone so deep, I found that universal light that resides in us all and in that depth of thinking/deepest meditation… I grew myself, and went through my own (like the Phoenix bird in my home page) re-birth again, on a much more spiritual basis than I had ever been before.

We all grieve differently, these two pieces I entered for dVerse Poets are just a part of what I went through as I learned to walk through the very real and, very long dark tunnel of the fog of grief. We never have to get over it, we do have to somehow learn to walk through it to get to the other side and come out of it (hopefully) re-born ourselves.

If this helps just ‘one’ someone else, I will be glad I posted and shared these thoughts today.

Shared with dVersePoets Poetics #Conversation/s

Flying Duck

There’s swearing and then there’s swearing and, we all learn how to say ‘em.
My parents said I must not swear, not where they could hear and, a ‘bloody hell’
could even send me there.
Smart-ass children never listen. My luck ran out the day
they heard me shout: “Who gives a flying duck.”


All kids learn the swear words, and in company of their own age, if their friends swear
they swear because they want to fit in.
I learned never to swear in front of my parents… ever!
I teach my teen, children or adults who swear a lot show a distinct lack of vocabulary and education and, she knows so much better.
Even though I know she does, just like my parents with me, I will not accept her swearing in front of me.

(It’s usually ‘I couldn’t give a flying-Bombay-duck’  and it’s cockney rhyming slang for dropping… the ‘F’ word bomb  🙂

Oooo I’m ‘ard as nails…..LOL

Shared with G-Man’s Friday Flash 55

Night & Day

In the blink of waking eyes
I looked up and at once
could see both
night and day.

To the east, dawn arrived
riding across my sky
leaving clouds in its wake.

He rode a golden charriot
of flame which bore the
names Hope and Love
emblazoned on each fiery side.

To the right, the night
still wore her cloak
of a thousand eyes
filling the western sky
with her steady twinkling gaze.

Amazed at the jewelled gown
she wore
she shimmered as she moved
her body with such a
quiet grace.

And I knew I’d seen
that invisible cord

The cosmic tie at play.

The silent promise of
eternal love that lies
unbroken, between
night and day.


© Daydreamertoo     *All rights Reserved

Hope this is a conflation. Night & Day are two very different things.
Shared with dVersePoets Meeting the Bar: Critique & Craft -Conflation

Love & Light

Sparkles and sprinkles
fell into my eyes
warm, blessed, beloved
(was I looking for you, still?)

Did I not dig deep within
find you cast adrift
inside my inner sea
and there was I
(thinking I am lonely island)

Yet, there you were.

Calming every frightened breath
with loves even strokes to keep
my soul from sinking into a
bottomless pit of despair.

Yes, you were there.

I turn my collar against a chill
of hands that threaten to dampen
mood, shifting thought as I do


A smile
A kiss
and all those drops that
came from either joy or sorrow.

So wrinkled now, those days
whose memories used to
be so smooth
So sweet, they took away the sour
of bitter after taste.

We live
We learn

(Still so much more to learn)

God is Love, Is light

We are part of that light
(no matter how we see it)


We never walk alone.


©Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

Shared with Writing Vice Versa #Prompt Wrinkled/Smooth/Sweet/Sour….

and with


Transient thoughts
swirl with leaves on the wind
whispers of the heart
whipped up by life’s dizzy dance

Inclined to flirt
with butterfly tease
it pleases
then flits away before
you may exact a promise


maybe it’s simply figment
of an over active brain
addicted to feeling love’s
exquisite pain
which leaves a heart
in ruin.


© Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

Shared with 3 Word Wednesday CCLXlV  *Prompt Figment, Inclined,Vulnerable
Poetry Pantry #72

History Repeating

A fire burns.
It’s flames, passion stirred in
stories told of victory or, defeat.


if we have loved
how then, can we lose.

There’s none to blame
no sackcloth’s to wear which hide
the stain of tears.

Touch my heart
it still beats the same
Keeps its rhythm even
without rhyme or reason

 And, the fire’s dying embers
warm a soul which knows its truths
still lie between the lines, unsaid.

I weep for you
for me
and for loves labours lost in
History repeating.


© Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

I like this song by Dame Shirley Bassey & the Propellerheads (and like the seasons repeat) I believe in many different ways, history does repeat itself, over and over again, unless it’s something we wish to put an end to.

Shared with dVersePoets OpenLinkNight #15

Beat of the World

 With gentle tremor
the wind whispers
‘trees live’
I hear their music through
rustling leaves.

Sea laps the shore
with endless sweet kisses
on high tides of blessings
and gratitudes.

Birds sing their own song
on wings of joy
and, in freedom of flight.

With bluest of skies
clouds share their air
and dance upon the earth
as they move in
shifting shadows
what my mind wishes
them to be.

Each blade of grass
each tiny tear that falls

is as important
as you and I

Once we have heard
the beat of the world.


© Daydreamertoo *All rights reserved

I used to live in the house whose deck you can just make out the corner of, on the right of the pic. Loved this river.  Water is my life’s blood.

Shared with Poetry Picnic Week #10 Nature, Forests, Rivers, and Mountains


He’s a black-hearted rose. A cunning devil in black and red. A blood sucking vampire, of the rusted-out and dead. Evil lusts for darkness to carry out its deeds and once the sun nods off to sleep Dracula seeks insidious shadows in which to meet his needs. Dark cape around his neck, no ragged dress for him and, piercing eyes aflame, he’ll glaze you with his looks, ’til he knows that you are hooked. A through charmer, hearts shudder at his name. In the beginning he will wine you, he will dine you. He’ll fill you to the brim with soft moonlight and wishes and then, commit his sins. He will take you by the hand, arm out stretched, will draw you in. Till your head is in the clouds and heart a rolling thunder, with his spell he’ll pull you under. He’ll kiss your eyes, your cheeks and, whisper in your ear all the tender loving words he knows you long to hear. Your bridges, your walls will all collapse as he’ll straighten to full height,  drag you ‘neath his cape and… still beneath his spell… his teeth will bare and soon the sharpeness of their blade will sink right into you, and like a rag doll that has swooned you will be, until he’s made the final kill, partook and had his fill .

And once he takes your blood, well then…he has your soul.

As Halloween is fast approaching, I chose a scary theme for my Sunday Whirl ‘wordle effort. You will all know of course this is loosely based on the Dracula tales written by author Bram Stoker in 1897. Dracula was based on Vlad the Impaler. I chose Christopher Lee as my Count Dracula because over the years he played the part in movies more times than any other actor.

Shared with The Sunday Whirl Wordle #27

The Story of our Lives

Breathe in deep the smell of dry earth between fingertips and know that it really has no use at all until we comprehend its true, miraculous worth. I planted a little story seed and, watered with tears of joy or sorrow, watched it as it began to grow. We weep for a past that’s been and gone but the seed continues growing with each drop of liquid gained. We weep for the now which means so much to some. Weep for this and that meanwhile the seedling becomes an epic. The story of our lives. From dust to seed, to life then, back to dust again.

Shared with Jenny Matlock Saturday Centus #77 100 words + the prompt ‘I planted a little story seed.’ 106 altogether.

Trafalgar Square

She should’ve known better than to dare. The sky above was black. Such a silly place to chose when there were thousands of other places in the city to meet, sit and share a cuppa Rosy Lee (Tea) Trafalgar Square loomed. The lions were waiting, but so too, were all those pigeons and their poop.

Visited Trafalgar Square so many times over the years. So much there to see. Statues of famous people in history, and those lions are so lovely, but the pigeons, well they are an army all on their own now and have become famous for being so many. Everyone feeds them now so they are tame enough to come and sit on you, but you run the risk of all that poop landing on you too. LOL

Shared with G-Man’s Flash Friday 55

Electric Blue

Somewhere in time
I plucked a feather
from the ground

maybe it was mine
from once owning broken wings


I’ve let go the past

Put it in a box
tucked that box away
amongst all the other

It’s a new dawn
of a new day

The sun shines
(I’m alive)

The sea moves me
(in waves I can’t describe)

The wind blows
(sometimes harsh at play)

Days keep coming
(I’m alive)

I’ve got energy and
lightening in my veins

In fact

everything I love’s



Electric Blue


© Daydreamertoo    *All rights reserved

 Shared Theme Thursday Prompt #New
Thursday Think Tank #71 Energy

No holds Barred

No walls
no room
no doors
can imprison a mind
which thinks itself as free.

From a tentative dying ember
that slip of light called hope
sparks into a flame
builds passion to a fire
that burns from such desire

to live
to breathe
to be.

No cell
no bars
no guards with keys
can prevent determined thought
from breach of their security

No type of captivity can hold a mind
which thinks itself as free.


© Daydreamertoo     *All rights reserved

 *For Jae

Shared with Three word Wednesday CCLX111
ABC wednesday The Letter ‘N’
Thursday Poets Rally #week 54