Only Today

For Kerry. It’s always worth it.


Shared understanding,

Only today, your

Liquefied reflections poured forth.


Meanderings. musings,

Only today, may

Prove just some of your worth.


One single spark,

Only today, ignites and

Kindles a flame,


Darkest of night,

only today, may be enlightened

By words you proclaim


Blessed perceptions,

Only today, bearing

Your flint and your steel,


May fire one heart,

Only today, for

Someone who knows you are real.


 Tomorrow will dawn,

Today will go on

And writing will still play its part.


Posting and working,

Reflecting , supporting,

Loving with all of your heart.


Nothing surreal,

In words that may heal,

Fellowship known from afar.


You may never know it,

Today may not show it

But follow your bright shining star. 






A voice unexpected

Calls out from the deep,

Enters my mind,

Troubles my sleep.

It whispers in sorrow,

Blighted it seems,

Tangles, entwines

In all of my dreams.

Meaning’s unclear,

Answers are none

For questions are woven,

Intricately spun.

Trapped in my mind,

Lost in my soul,

Arrives in the darkness,

Pleads to make whole.

Closed eyes review

Unworldly perusal,

Tears form in both

At day’s blunt refusal.

Double-Edged Sword




Razored edges,

Twinned envoy,



Duality differs,



Sagacious sword





And defend

Mirrored choices.

One weapon,

One mind,

Two voices.





Twofold inscribed,

Dazzled enchantment,

Visored vision.

Power of Words by Antonio Litterio

Only a Shimmer

Discard the old

Bring in the new

Blank canvas,

Unwritten page.

Pen in hand,

Paints to colour,

Palettes of

Words and shade.


And splashes

Nuzzle together,



Nuances of meaning,

Fantasy grafted with



Tones of feeling.

Unthought words,






Minds exposed,

Hearts displayed,

Souls shimmering

White on white.

Overlaid with




We write.



popped into my head

on waking

I wondered

what it meant

and why it

just appeared

I thought

about it



Neo means new


I had to think

It is like other

words with

plasty attached

I thought





I wondered



become new

change to become new

cut with surgical

incision to renew

or just be fake


I’m going to

look it up.


tissue grafting

to renew

to repair





that happens.


Words flow freely now

But fail to express.

I begin.

I digress.

The aim is lost.

And the purpose.

The intention ever the same.

To communicate without

Naming names.

To offer without

Being shamed.

Hands easily reach out

And arms hold.

Words struggle,

Cannot be bold.

Enough of confession.

No time to delay.

Parts taken,

Let’s play.

A game is all

It is.

Only earthly reason

To enjoy.

But this.

This loses everything,

Betrays inevitability,

Sinks beneath

Even shallow waters.

No question

Or answer

Can be understood

Or relayed.

Recorded forever

And played

Over and over


The Word. Or just words.

My honesty is selective.

Here, I have a choice.

To speak, to read,


If I should raise my voice.


I am, tonight, encouraged

By what I see before me;

That honesty

And wisdom

Is in prose

As well as poetry.


My awe at God’s endeavours

To open up my mind,

To clarify

My thoughts and           


To seek and so to find


Wisdom born of generations,

Truths from far off lands,

I bow and kneel before

God’s wisdom

So informed and so well planned,

In words from others,

I confess,

In great humility,

I am not worthy,

This is clear

By words laid out in honesty.

I beseech

Some leniency

In judgement.

I really don’t belong,

Except, perhaps, that God decrees

That something in my song

May reach and teach as you have done,

Or colour my description

Of all that matters here

On earth,

A lucid, dear depiction

Of love and trust

Well understood,

Of wisdom found in

All that’s good

And wholesome

In some just reward.

Is this why God

Created Word?

Last of the Shenanigans!

There’s a hole in my head

Where thoughts come in

And a machine that whirls them around.

There’s a route from my brain to my pen

On page

And on the paper they’re found.


I wonder where the thoughts came from

And how

From ether’s cosmic flotsam,

They find a way to penetrate

My mind

And then I have to jot some


Notes to take, a word or few,

Flowing ink, that’s how they grew

So fast and so erratic.

Sort them out,

Place just so.

Bloody hell, ecstatic


It feels to me

When out they pour,

Knocking, pushing at my door.

Let me out, they seem to say,

We’re stuck. Your brain’s no place to play.

Put us, black upon the white,

We’ll dance around

And so, take flight

Until we’re tired

And rest, just right.


I wasn’t an authentic hippy so I’ve never really said, ‘Hey, man,’ without it being tongue-in-cheek. Born in the sixties, I was really a child of the seventies, the teenage years marking each person’s era. I just liked the seventies’ clothing. Some of it’s still in my wardrobe.

Abba, 10CC, Fleetwood Mac, Genesis, ELO, Sailor, Queen, Sweet, Slade, Thin Lizzy, Nazareth, too many musical memories to mention. And quite an eclectic mix. Memories of doing the diva at disco dancing while ultra-violet lights showed every white speck and rendered teeth Osmondesque. Village People heralding the death-knell of disco. I was young once and must have had a language known only to my generation.

With Glee covering every song known to man, my tastes in music are deemed quite ‘cool’ by my children because husband and I have many of the originals on LP. (That’s a big dod of plastic with grooves and a hole in the middle, to those too young to know.)

But, beware.

Just because you may be considered acceptable in your musical tastes, if not your clothes, does not mean that you can casually use teen-speak and get away with it without shame and a rosy red flush on your fizzog.

Words I am not to use in the presence of my children or their friends include, ‘Sound’, ‘Sorted’, ‘Random’, ‘Cool’, plus any acronyms identified in text-speak. So, LOL is out, too.

When I got my first ‘brick’, a hand-me-down mobile phone from my eldest because she was upgrading (me paying for it, of course), I was humiliated to learn that, ‘C U l8ter’ was no longer regarded as appropriate by those in the know.

Now, I hadn’t taken a course on what was conventional but I understood that shorter texts were meant to be better. I gave in and reverted to proper English in my texting life. The downside is, it takes so long for me to text a message, I would be quicker phoning.

I thought it was part of my remit, as mother, to ensure I adequately embarrassed my children in the presence of friends by recounting stories from childhood and showing foolish photographs.

Apparently, that’s nowhere near as cringe-worthy as speaking out of turn in a language fit only for them.

Which is cool, as long as they don’t mind me, occasionally, recounting some totally random LOL moments that tell how sound and sorted my day has been.

Hey, got to move with the times, man.

Notes and Words

The piano plays its note anew

And seeks the scale that rings out true.

A strummer thrums a simple chord

One singer sounds a beauteous word.

Musician, tell us of your song

Of words of love and life and wrong.

Compress our hearts with stories true

Of magic, mystery and you.

Reveal your treasures with a voice,

Music, banish extraneous noise.

Soaring songs on wings of flight

Crescendo, passion, dawn and light.

Tempoed grace on ballet shoes

Orchestral movements trace the muse.

Notes and words together played

Soothing hurts and spirits flayed.

Music, majesty and more

In notes and words upon the score.