Autmn Moon – Day 17


How could I draw the curtain!
It was early evening
A generous blue the sky.
And there, for us,
A slither of moon.
A slither of moon in the west.
Perhaps, visible most of the day.
How could I draw a curtain on this!

I stood a while in respect
Of a moon slither.
Autumn in the clear, clear sky.

Benita H. Kape (c) 17.4.2021


And now I’m caught up again. And it is autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.

“And now, our (optional) prompt. I’ve seen some fairly funny twitter conversations lately among poets who are coming to terms with the fact that they keep writing poems about the moon. For better or worse, the moon seems to exert a powerful hold on poets, as this large collection of moon-themed poems suggests. Today, I’d like to challenge you to stop fighting the moon. Lean in. Accept the moon. The moon just wants what’s best for you and your poems. So yes – write a poem that is about, or that involves, the moon.”


Autumn Poem

The Little Finch in Autumn


The little finch in autumn

lands on the supple rose stem

and a dance begins.


She is here to peck aphids

and with swift movement,

now seemingly she curls

into a ball.


How quickly she spins

around the stem,

all the time peck,

peck, peck.

The first rosehips,

baubles in this

delicate dance.


And just as quickly

it all comes to an end.

all I see now

is the bobbing stem.


Benita H. Kape © 8.5.2018


Breakfast – GloPoWriMo 2017 (pre-prompt, Haibun)


At my back door, each day peaches fall from the high branches of my neighbour’s tree. Sometimes ants hitch a ride indoors on the peaches. I wash one or two and slice them into a plate for my breakfast. I decide to add Muesli. When I open the cupboard door I am greeted by two early morning moths. I wave them away and reach for a container not opened for two or three weeks. I peer in. I am alerted by the appearance of the already opened packet.

stored grain


on the move

It may be autumn, which officially began a month ago on the 1st of March, regardless I begin a thorough spring-clean of the food cupboards.

nostrils widen

the pungent

smells of autumn

Benita H. Kape © 31.3.2017



BUBBLE   4.  –   A Series of daily poems



 Have slept the sleep of the dead,

Eight long hours

And getting up to the stillness

Of a sunny green world.

And, yes, poetry moving and shifting

In my no longer sleep deprived head.

After breakfast, I will gather my spade

And my hedge clippers.

I can see the work taking place,

The creepers I should never have planted;

And the strays.

I doubt if with weed killer I will spray

garden borders and edges today. But clipping,

There will be plenty of clipping.


There is not a cloud in the sky,

Hints autumn seductively! (I think not

After a glorious summer of heat.)


As I look up at the trees,

Soon, soon the dropping of leaves.

Good working days

Making for good nights of sleep.

Benita H. Kape © 18.3.2017