JAE ROSE

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/04/friday-writing-224-just-desserts.html

The melted chocolate warms my tongue

Slides down my gullet – like a velvet glove

Or a tender kiss

Rich and delicious – satiating for body and mind

It is not as awakening as vanilla creme but still, it is a comfort

Perhaps it can also be grated over another dessert

Marshmallows, ice creams, rhubarb crumble or rice pudding

Even the thought of sugary delights

Makes me feel drowsy – like a fattened bee

Returning to the hive

Perhaps that is the magic of enjoying food –

When you feel rooted and fortunate enough to bring it into your own home

And enjoy a little sweetness in every day life.

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/04/when-nature-takes-your-breath-away.html

The lake is like pink penicillin – gulped down with frequency in childhood years

It was like strawberries which made me keep on drinking it

Discreetly and happily –

Despite the fact that it rotted my teeth

Opening the top myself made me giggle

Perhaps it was my first medicine

Longer lists of them now keep me swimming

Of course the magical potion wasn’t enough to quell the fire inside

I dived in the lake – I swam in the lake –

I woke up and grew bored of the lake

Pink can be deceptive but outside –

Winter clouds, flowers and lakes

All make the world feel magical yet safe.

Exploring the art of Gerard Sekoto

Looking at – Gerard Sekoto, Woman With Downcast Eyes (1955)

There is a richness in your cheeks

A secret strength – a power that you will always hold –

No matter what

When you feel safe enough to lift up your eyes

They will glow like burning embers

Carry you far – to kinder lands and kinder hands

A place where you can breathe and laugh

And raise your gaze up into the stars and sky

The limitless possibilities of freedom

I can see the strength in you – your dignity and poise

I hope one day you will see it too.

Quadrille #246: Let’s get digging

As my war quietly settles

I still dig deep for victory

Every day can have small triumphs 

Magical moments to celebrate 

Perhaps in time I will dig the soil 

Pant some bluebells and snowdrops –

Digging deep inside yields treasure 

How lucky I still can

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/04/friday-writings-223-why-bother.html

Sometimes it feels futile to bother

When walls -inside and out – either get built

Or come tumbling down

When safety and wellness bends in the wind

When just being can be painful

There is always a little reward for trying however

A hot cup of tea, a morning cake – an owl in the tree before dawn

Life is a mosaic – tiny, colourful pieces

Which we perhaps will never see as a whole

But they must have some kind of a bigger picture

The dust brushed aside and excavated

Some days we can try

Others we can sleep through

All days count in the end.

MTB: Zuihitsu

I consider the ‘peanut crunching crowd’ watching

Such days are disappearing like ink dipped in water

Distant, less important – I am in the painting but not seen (completely)

Now my colours are building – becoming more solid – like a statue

Smooth, contoured and considered – briefly at least

No need any more to hide under the house; to prepare for the worst

Perhaps this painting of mine is reaching the end – as much as any picture is a moment in time

Perhaps I will be the Mona Lisa – a secret smile wondered over

I’d prefer to value being almost invisible as my colours blend with the blue skies

Learning to mother myself – to be enough for myself

And so the days unfold – always learning, always painting and playing with words.

• (‘peanut crunching crowd’ taken from Sylvia Plath – Lady Lazuras)
• (To be enough for myself – taken from Sinead O’Connor – This Is To Mother You’)

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/04/yesterday-today-and-tomorrow.html

Yesterday is a benevolent dream

It flowed like a river, clear and full of fish

Birds on the banks calling

I can’t say it was different or bold

But it was my day

And for that I am thankful

Today is another path to tread

Perhaps there will be contentment

An afternoon nap

A bar of chocolate

A cup of tea

A feeling that for now

Things are well

Tomorrow is too far ahead to think of

I can only hope that it will come

Another chance

Another spun penny –

Good or bad

I will weather what ever comes my way

That is the pattern of my days.

Poetics: Where does love go?

Where does love go when you feel empty inside

When even your bones and teeth ache for what could have been

That simple question before the doors closed –

‘Would you’…

Perhaps it has flown into a robin’s song

An owl calling in the night

The whole world coming alive again

After love has gone

Waving, not drowning – keeping afloat

Finding other things to fill your heart –

Chocolate, flowering plants, a morning walk when the world is still

Maybe even a sunny morning or a star filled night

There is always more room for love

If we just let it in, be open to another possibility

Who knows, perhaps that question wouldn’t have made life full of love

And being left dangling is a hope that fuels you through the years.

Prosery: Publication

'Publication – is the Auction
Of the Mind'

Once I thought it was important for my words to fall on paper. I toiled and foiled wondering what was important. Alice, Wonderland, potions and cakes. But when it was written down - held in my hands - I realised how wrong it felt. It was a (mis)adventure - not a life.

Perhaps it is true - publication - is the auction of the mind

Now I enjoy trying new sentences and words. Making my world a little bigger. More connected to the ‘real’ world. It is like dipping a toe in a hot bath. A little uncertain. A little scared. But it feels like a future.

It doesn’t concern me now what is written down. What is read. Now it is more like playing. Discovering more. Alone or in company. That to me feels complete. Like waiting for the sun to rise. Or the birds to sing.