Life in Poetry reading, writing, reflecting

Life in Poetry reading, writing, reflecting
April showers bring May flowers

Wednesday, 14 October 2020

⌗WEP-IWSG Challenge, Wednesday 14th October Grave Mistake

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Quote of the Day : 
L'humanité qui devrait avoir 6000 ans d'expérience, retombe en enfance à chaque génération.  Tristan Bernard (French playwright and novelist, 1866-1947)

Man who should have accumulated 6000 years of experience, falls back into childhood at every new generation.

It's time for another Write Edit Publish Challenge of 2020, writing on a word and picture prompt with the Insecure Writers' Support Group.
If you'd like to know more about WEP and IWSG,  or join the Challenge go here and here

IWSG in the 100 best blogging sites

The WEP site

The joint WEP-IWSG Challenge 2020

This Month

Grave Mistake , a narrative poem, following on from Long Shadow in August. read here 

on Wordpress here

Grave Mistake

Leaves tugged on slashing branches,
flew over the stones and settled on
her lace-up boots. She bowed her head,
a tear trickled down her nose, joined
the rivulets of rain cruising the crease
between cheek and mouth.

Burnt grass from August heat was bright
green, now, in the damp, cool air.
She glanced behind her slumped
shoulder towards a crisp crackle
to her left. A long shadow blocked 
out the failing light.

The felt hat covered head advanced
to her father's last resting place.
His long cloak swished, his boots
sloshed in sodden mud. His mouth
whispered in the wind:

" It was a grave mistake, what your
banker father did. I was only the arm
executing." She jerked her head,
saw the curved scar, " Who are you ?"
The man fell silent,

as though he had never spoken; eyed
the stone. To the Memory of an Honest, 
Loving father and Husband.
" Honest , he was not; thought he could
double-cross the boss: grave mistake,
grave mistake." 

She felt a pang of anger mingle with
the pain in her breast. Her fist clenched
upwards, hammered down on his chest:
" What are you talking about ?"
" The truth, Milady, the truth. No escape,
no reproof."

She screamed in his dark face,
she trampled the soil. He caught
her wrists and shushed her brow
against his heart. He was a good man, 
a loving grandfather, she thought;
but where did all the money come from ?


thank you for reading

Mozart  Zauberflöte here
                Dom Juan here
                Requiem here

Les Sablettes, La Seyne sur Mer

L' Esterel

la Promenade des Anglais, Nice

Calanques, Cassis


  1. I like this sage, a continuing thread to the next prompt. The stranger Unmasked?

    1. Thank you Yolanda. Keeping the thread from August through December. Have an inspiring month .

  2. Striking images in the poem and gorgeous photographs, Susan!

  3. Thank you Fundy Blue for visiting. Happy November writing.


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