Flying off the Canvas

The image shows an incomplete watercolor on open pages of a notebook. There are tubes of colors next to it and some painting paraphernalia.

Purple robes from the snot of snails, rays from the tails of mango-fed cows.
Colour-wash fades, dribbles down the page,
Feeble brush strokes
weep over wet

In a misery of contempt she kicks the traces of her fractious art.
Screw it up and start again!

Ground from stones, hewn from rocks
poisonous pigments from the artist’s jewel box
cobalt and lead, one blue, one red
the venomous tools of her craft.

Carving curves with furious angst
passions explode and erode
while careless cadmium spatterings
join dread smears on the studio floor.

Scissoring through shards of purple-pink silk
the blood on the carpet of despair
raising her brush she rages on
rending the canvas in two.

Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #47 photo prompt.
Image credit: Elena Mozhvilo – Unsplash

On the Threshold

The image shows an old bearded man standing on a stone staircase that is leading to a tower. In the background you can see mountains enshrouded in clouds.

Each time he asks:
life well-lived or just a bystander?

Young soul or old,
are you still curious?

Will you go round again?
do more, or better this time?

The wheel of life: 
treadmill or merry-go-round?

Will you go round again?
learn more, and see more this time?

Turning on and endlessly on
the wheel of life

Will you go round again
or leave at the terminus?

Your choice.
Will you go round again?


Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #38 photo prompt.
Image credit: Stefan Keller on Pixabay

The Atonement

For visually challenged reader, the image shows a woman holding her hands in supplication. In front of her a hummingbird is hovering in air. There are flowers in the background.

Meditating in the moment
watching silent wings beat softly
in bright iridescence
inhaling the essence
of fragrant flowers
before being laid to rest
on their beautiful bower.

She, who today, has been chosen
to atone for all our sins
the balm to soothe the breast
of our broken mother, Gaia.


Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #37 photo prompt.
Image credit: Stefan Keller on Pixabay

Walk on

what do you see 19 by chris hall lunasonline

When you reach this final bridge
pause a while

Take your time to cross.

From here there is
no way back.

So make your peace and
take the ultimate step.

The Unknown awaits.

Tread softly and walk on
with hope in your heart.

Might the best be
yet to come?

Written in response to SadjeWhat Do You See #19 photo prompt.
Image credit: Unsplash


what do you see 5 by chris hall lunasonline
Island perspective by Chloe Smith

As the world turns,

you turn with it

always just a little out of kilter;

existing within a land of virtual friends

and made up characters,

submerged in the limpid pools of your mind’s eye,

where with every throw of the dice

you win.

Written in response to Sadjes ‘What Do You See #5 photo prompt.

The Epic Journey

what do you see 4 by chris hall lunasonline

He’d battled over the Melancholic Mountains of Mythndlore,

scythed through thick forests where Dark Shadows lurk

stumbled across Mind Leaching deserts and now

wading through the stagnant Green Marais

at last he’d found what he was seeking.

The light at the end of his personal

Tunnel of Angst

Finally, he types


Written in response to Sadje’s ‘What Do You See #4′ photo prompt.

The Writer’s Gift

what do you see 3 by chris hall lunasonline

Waves of words wash over her

transporting her through

space and time

to other realms

where dreams come true

and the adventurer knows no bounds.


Riding the White Horses of the Camargue

Dancing with Wolves

Searching for The Beach


She journeys to the Centre of the Earth

explores King Solomon’s Mines

and witnesses the Return of the King.


Laying aside her book

she drifts, dreams,

and the waves of words

still wash over her.

Written in response to Sadje‘s ‘What Do You See #3photo prompt.

Take a moment

Take a moment by Chris Hall lunasonline

Look up at that little tree,

sparkling in the moonlight,

lit up by the stars.

Take a moment to remind yourself

of what is truly precious.

One life, one planet,

last chance.

Written in response to Sadje‘sWhat Do You See‘ photo prompt.

Welcome to the House of Books

The House of Books Barrydale


Hemingway drains his whisky glass and picks up his rifle,

stomps from the room.

Sadly, the last we’ll see of him.

His clipped and perfect prose

Done for good.


Sylvia surfaces for the last time, before disappearing

below the lapping waves,

one last word on her beautiful blue lips.

No, not waving.

Gone for good.


Pass the purple prose and the sugar-pink poetry,

the long-winded sagas and the tea-time trash.

Just give me the facts!


Boris burbles, bright but bonkers.

I said the facts, sir!

Thatcher, Thatcher, school milk snatcher!

Not what history will recall.

HIS story?


What about HER story?

Diana, princess betrayed

Norma Jean?

Her story says it all.


Drop the pretense.

Give me something I can believe.


Believe in the beauty of fine-tuned fiction:

the gentle rustle of pages turning,

the perfume of old paper.

Behold the tranquility of a mind engrossed

and a spirit at peace.


Inspired by a visit to ‘The House of Books’ in Barrydale, South Africa. It lives up to its name!
Eccentric owner, Anton, is pictured above.

This is Africa


Here on the wild, west coast,

near the great continent’s southern-most tip,

rest a while.


Here Eve’s footprints marked the rocks,

her children decorated the caves and adorned their bodies

in shades of ochre and red.


Stretch out, open your mind,

feel the sun-warmed rock, absorb the stone-etched stories.

Isn’t this the magic you’re seeking?