Whose Mad Scheme

Big Blue Bin

Whose Mad Scheme?


Whose mad scheme

was this? Right on

Christmas time, to

hire a skip and make

a clean sweep

of clearing trees,

privet in the main,

which is a weed here;

and climbers

and wandering jew

and jasmine gone crazy

and which for so long had

had control of big

areas of the yard.


This big blue monster –

nine cubic metre capacity

sits down the driveway,

half full already and with

five more days before

pick up.


They say

it is going to rain heavily

on Monday all of which

will add to a chargeable weight.

Farmers, orchards

and agriculturalists may be crying

out for rain: but not me. I pray

for the fine and not too hot

weather. Whose mad scheme?


Benita H. Kape © 16.12.2017


Petals: Now Let Us Engage Her Elsewhere – NaPoWriMo 2017, day twenty-nine – prompt: choose concrete noun from fav. poem then free writing, adjectives, other nouns – go ahead write a poem.


Petals: Now Let Us Engage Her Elsewhere


Somewhere in the poem

there will be a small child.

She is always talkative, and busy.

Sometimes she is deeply engaged.

We must explain everything at

her level so that she may

more fully understand.


Today her animation centres

around flowers. But wait,

she goes back for leaves;

another flower, or part thereof,

plucking so quickly she brings

little in her hand. She is running

back for more but we must call

her in from the rain.


When she comes, her warm hands

brush mine with a single petal

and staring back at the blank, barely

discernible, space,  certainly not

a half plucked bloom, she begins

to cry and cries the more

on seeing that the oblong petal,

having been singularly plucked

can never be put back whole.


When the rain stops we show her

this happens to plants anyway.

Flowers drop petals, drop flowers.

She pulls back unconvinced.


Now let us engage her elsewhere

lest our/her small timeframe is lost.


Benita H. Kape © 29.4.2017

And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I’d like to challenge you to take one of your favorite poems and find a very specific, concrete noun in it. For example, if your favorite poem is this verse of Emily Dickinson’s, you might choose the word “stones” or “spectre.” After you’ve chosen your word, put the original poem away and spend five minutes free-writing associations – other nouns, adjectives, etc. Then use your original word and the results of your free-writing as the building blocks for a new poem.

The poem I chose was by Brian Turner, Otago, New Zealand “Flowers”.

Petal was my key noun. Petal, in that poem, was used in a way one didn’t quite expect. There was definitely no child in Brian’s poem.


Any Time of Day – GloPoWriMo 2017 – Day Four – Enigma


Any Time of Day

I am slippery

I am smooth

And I am top


I am made of paper

I have songs to sing

I am in a folio


I am three in the wind


I am curved in places

I am a modern innovation

I’m always on the bottom


I am made of paper

I have stories to tell

I am a favourite of lovers

Any time of day

Some would do without me

Some would not


Sometimes I cover the ground

I am old as trees

Sometimes you see through me

Or sometimes, the broad view

Through the trees

And I will come to mind

Sometimes I am rain


I am made of paper

I have songs to sing

Sometimes, I am three in the wind

Sometimes, I am rain


Benita H. Kape © 4.4.2017



Today I’d like you to take some inspiration from Elgar and write a poem with a secret – in other words, a poem with a word or idea or line that it isn’t expressing directly. The poem should function as a sort of riddle, but not necessarily a riddle of the “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” variety. You could choose a word, for example, “yellow,” and make everything in the poem something yellow, but never actually allude to their color. Or perhaps you could closely describe a famous physical location or person without ever mentioning what or who it actually is.


May, the Sky Falls In – NAPOWRIMO 2016 – DAY 4

Again for the 2nd day in a row this is the second poem I’ve written for the one prompt. I keep getting poems I was desperate for but for an entirely other project and so one here, one there.

May, the Sky Falls In

the rain
the sludge
the hours
the sky

all at once

the sky
is always
it feels like
it’s falling

the rain
sets in
for days,
on end

the hours
at your

the grass
as cars
and go

a verse
as long
as black
as a

oh May
it rained
how little
I saw
of it

Benita H. Kape © 5.4.2016

Prompt: And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruellest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruellest month, and why.


NaPoWriMo 2015 – Day 6 – to write an aubade

DSC01688Aubade   for   Cat

As I open my eyes, the door is now slightly ajar.

Today, as most days, she is first up, stealthy;

intelligent, alert, and sometimes a jolly nuisance.


This cat, my precious, my bête noir.

Dashes through the door to her Shangri-La:

to bound, not, as you might expect, onto the bed,


but the desk, stepping gently over a bizarre

muddle of journals and pens, the repertoire,

the stockpile that is my life at the desk,


and having hurdled some, and nudged others aside,

sniffing out any overnight changes; reaching around her

I blearily feel for the window, (there’s a built-in window


next to that) so that I go to the next, lift the handle; both

now open to her slight size and she makes of this her cat

roundabout, back and forth: acting the newly arrived (via


window.) Who? Not me, who scratched at the door, her steady

eye through the curtains now seems to say. How reassuring, for

whom, puss or me? Sun on her back or a little rain I know with her

to greet me, this, or any other,  it will always  be a good day.

Benita H. Kape © 7.4.2015