Monthly Archives: February 2019


yes, the snow drops while small snow drops

light breeze

promise of a quiet day

yes, solemn

mournful is understandable


another day
in paradise


.his spirit.

bear says he has seen much

even suffered as is said

hoping to stay in europe


nothing saddens as the news

came yesterday

that all insects die

gone by

the end of a century

they say


nothing for the feelings of the bear

they say it matter of fact as if no

one cares

.hen tynllan.

demands are everyday

simple things can be priceless & while the words pound


oh make us cry

while the world is turning there is a small hope to always return home


why did he mention the old house?

i thought he did not know

when he looked at me

i slept a darker paint

a place of nowhere

no marks no texture



days of research

at the old house


out in the land

feeling the way

through the history of this place


you ask for a fantasy      a challenge

this is a house full of ideas


a house of dreams and nightmares

i thought he did not know

when he looked at me

he always had that small hope to return home

listed building

lurching sideways keeping my balance

i returned home


take a photo,
of the photo,
we have chinese
whispers. this
is beverley nichols
with the right
hon. sir esme howard.

you don’t get
names like that
these days.

.nicole delaittre.

nicole de laittre

met by chance/social media

i visited a place not seen before

makes songs & magic

newly born

it is a singular thing

stand entranced

this is a new note

step to another side

i visited a place not been before


“you inspire me. Not to give up on my core in
fits of hasty shame

Ive not forgot the trenches-
I visit for cross purposes
I resist the urge to
anonymously destroy.

You recognize the handiwork
For im not without spiritual support

Others show their hyena faces to me.
Wheres MY hyena face? How can i conjure one to pacify the others? To stop the rounds-

“try the blue paint instead” comes a voice
a heavenly mixture of restraint and play.

I lose myself in the blue and brown paste
Holler at red ceilings
Try on the green when no one is looking.”

nicole de laittre

.bus ride.

my small voice

are you alright?

i am worried for your welfare

yet fear an intrusion



my small voice

are you ok?

i may understand if you explain a little

look at his face

my small voice


my hand touched his arm

i look away & say that

i may also feel this way

look down to my hands neat in my lap as always


my small voice

he leans in while i allow the silence

the silence lengthens


my small voice is quiet

we look out and the world passing by

his finger points

an understanding


where has the other one gone?

there used to be four of us

she said

she lobbed a pebble in the stream

watched the effect

another replied

he got sick & died

nothing will ever be the same again

water flowed

a bird flew up

third one commented

that he would be missed

that the bed would feel empty

felt bad that he borrowed the shoes without permission

took his money

she remembered how he scuffed his bike

down the path & ate hungry

the heron stood silent opposite on the mud

there are three of them now sat on the log by the stream

only one went to the funeral

the others

sent to school

.bear bear.

bear bear

how will you mange with all this palaver?


your feet are sternly stitched

your waistcoat a blend

to button against stiff criticism

& political debate

a head start


mind your manners & stay cosy

in bed while chaos is all around

always be set in your own ways


grunt beautiful

know your life

will be loved by many


not the few


while all around is quiet set out into

the world


be an example

love & otherwise