#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day21 #FifaByAnyOtherName #Nicknames

A Fifa by any other name...

1. Fifa

child‑tongue stumbles, named

by a cousin testing sounds

a nickname takes root

2. Baldric

hatching cunning plans

while scrubbing vases in that

fancy flower shop

3. Troglodytes

wren‑shaped heart, hopping

small but loud as any storm,

tiny yet mighty

4. Queenie

circle gathers close;

I hold court with open hands,

straighten others’ crowns

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day20 #DYouKen #AnimalMyth

 

D’you ken —

Log-toothed builder,
Flame-lipped crow,
Dusty eco-engineer.

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day19 #SiansYellowRoses #Florilegium

Sian's Yellow Roses

I. Energetics

Yellow rose, sun-aligned, a rising flare,
petals like a lion’s amber gaze.
Warming the solar plexus, seat of will.
Rosa foetida, born in the Caucasus foothills,
Persian Yellow, foremother of every golden bloom.
Named foetid by European botanists
who loved her colour,
but not her sharp, wild scent.

II. Language of flowers

In Victorian parlours,
bouquets spoke in code:
yellow for jealousy, for love grown thin, for warning.
Now the meaning softens:
it speaks of friendship, of joy,
of unfettered feeling
between those who choose each other freely.
Language sheds its skin; petals remain.

III. Rose as remedy

Rosehip and yellow petals cool heat-tired skin,
a gentle astringent for summer’s excess.
Solar herbs steady the heart,
lifting the soft fog Saturn leaves behind.
In the garden’s small apothecary,
the yellow rose stands, warm-handed,
a tincture of brightness,
a quiet gold that calls the spirit home.

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day18 #GlimmersAgainsTheEnding #WhyYouWrite

 

Glimmers Against the Ending

I write because the light keeps calling.

Each workday I leave the house,

connect, perform modest miracles,

and daily haikus pin that to memory.

I write because the dark sits waiting,

madwomen in attics, old lace.

On the page I can gently question it,

let my inner sage speak.

I write because the world keeps ending;

some days I don’t want to fight that.

Still, I gather small glimmers

like, bread crumbs of hope.

I write because I refuse to vanish,

rewilding myself as much as a species,

sunlit, shadow-stitched, a glorious contradiction

moving toward whatever comes.

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day17 #AscendingTheWater #ResponseToAFavouritePoem

 

Ascending the Water*

Heart blooms in the dark, 

black water cannot keep you -

Rise, fire-feathers.

*Haiku based on Sylvia Plath 

Crossing The Water - Sylvia Plath

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day16 #BlueMentorTanka #SomethingThatCannotSpeak

Blue Mentor Tanka

Ocean without speech,  

yet you teach me to listen:  

Blue spaces whisper  

wonders, compassion, kinship 

the ways we are connected.

#NaPoWriMo2026 #Day15 #LoveThatKeepsAdapting #NonTradLovePoem

 

Love That Keeps Adapting

Today he finishes her lemon drizzle cake,

not because she can’t,

but because love has always been

the quiet clearing‑up after puddings.

Her wheelchair waits by the table,

a new geography

they learned to navigate together.

In the tearoom,

Dad and Lu lift the baby‑changing table,

making a path where none was offered.

Love becomes a small act of arrangement:

making space in a world otherwise inaccessible.

Later, Mum is wheeled back,

assisted to a comfortable place

to rest after a small, sugary adventure.

Tomorrow is their anniversary.

They are on a journey without a map,

but with many milestones

and a promise…

We will make space for each other, again and again,

however the world rearranges itself.