If you would like to see the loft, it is here (right click,open the hatch)—> 
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If you would like to see the loft, it is here (right click,open the hatch)—>
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This is glorious! Thank you for writing it Kiersty. 🙂 I can’t begin to explain how much of this pertains to my own life at the moment. So much to discard and so much for which to be hopeful. I loved your ‘far-faraway and your daffy-dilly-di-los. The fifth stanza is damn potent and my favourite.
Thank you Val! Did you take a peek in the loft? There was supposed to be an asterisk after the word in the poem but it didn’t come out very well… y’see, I just end up trying to be too clever, haha, and failing miserably. 🙂 I wanted to try and create another layer so that there was something tangible to see what was being washed. Whitewashed, witchwashed, whichever. But I’m so glad you liked the daffy-dilly-di-los. I have some on the kitchen table and they do make everything so much brighter.
Oh yes, I like the loft… a good pairing to the box room? Spring is the best time of year for flowers. I shall buy you some so you’re not tempted to nick any again; )
I love daffodils … they are always so cheerful and bright.
This wonderful poem sounds like music to me … almost like a straight-shooting folk song (if that makes sense).
PS. Thanks so much for your email … I will one day get a chance to respond! 🙂
But in summary for now, shall I just say – ‘I LOVE your wonderful poetry CD’!?! 😀
I peaked in the loft and it felt like finding one of those hidden rooms in a house, bang bang on the wooden panel and bingo, a secret passage. Loved the main poem too of course. Thank you Val for making the challenge and well done Narnie for rising to it.
I did indeed Kiersty and I loved the loft! I wish I could escape to a loft like that sometimes when the grim and drearies bare their teeth at me. You are so original and fearless in that originality, a true artist. 🙂
Hi Narnie/Kiersty
To read your fine poetry, I had to track you down..
Love this “daffy-dilly-di-los” poem.
Great one to start this late winter day
When the temp outside is 8 degrees f
And my jonquils are still asleep under blankets of drifts
This poem warmed me up..
miss you in wc
ford