Still Breathing

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So my inner monologue, upon seeing the words for today, went a little like this:

“‘Join’ makes me think dots, then something would have to fit around ‘hurt’… ‘old’ and ‘eye’ seem to be asking to be put together somehow…Oooo, a ‘stranger’ needs to be ‘avoid’ed too…not sure how the last three words fit with the first six, though?!”

And so I began:


Join   Hurt   Old   Eye   Avoid   Stranger   Six   Expansion   Whirl

As I join up the dots that you left me,

I have hurt to brefriend and protect me;

That old ‘eye for an eye’ I’ll avoid, though,

‘Cos my mum taught me not to stoop that low…


You’re a stranger, a person non grata,

But somehow you think that won’t matter;

With six knives in my heart I’m still breathing –

Yet in my good nature you’re still believing?!


Get your coat, shoes, your hat, all belongings

(No reminders, please, of your wrongdoings)

Your conduct will not win my sanction,

And I fear your misdeeds’ expansion.


As the whirl inside my head is stopping,

And the clamour of my rage is dropping;

I can see through the clouds and think clearer

Pray that someone worth my love draws nearer.


Notebook page

It ended up rhyming of its own accord at first, but I just carried it on because it seemed to fit the rhythm my subconscious wanted. 

I quite like this poem, I’m glad the speaker has the sense to disentangle herself from the situation, and is putting her foot down! 

Sounds like she’s had a rough trot.  I wonder what her lover did?!

Can you relate to the poem at all? 

Would you have written along similar lines using these words?




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My Kind Of Buzz

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Good Evening!



On first look at what the generator threw up, I had no idea how I was going to piece these words together!

I went for a tactic that has worked in the past, and just started writing, because I only have 15 minutes to use, after all.  Doesn’t leave much room for panicking in front of a blank page…!


Elephant   Hopeless   Tactic    Honeybee   Decent   Junkyard   Boar   Charming   Howling  

While riding an elephant

At some random parade –

A stunt he’d pulled off

As a hopeless tactic to woo –


I laughingly agreed that

Becoming his ‘honeybee’ might

Not be my worst move ever

(Or: even feel decent)


Our first date was at a

Junkyard, if I’m truthful;

Him handing me oily bits

Of metal with much glee.


Luckily, I stayed the course

With this almighty weirdo

(The night he chased that wild boar

Will be forever etched…)


He’s charming and he’s witty

Yes, he often has me howling

I now could not imagine

Buzzing ‘round another man.


I am pleased with the last line, and I like how it ended up being about a couple with a sense of humour.


Notebook page (in pencil, which I pinched from my son)

My second date with my husband had me watching him have a game of footie with his mates in the middle of it (as he had taken me for an Italian lunch beforehand and had promised me a pizza dinner afterwards) so the ‘junkyard’ expedition in the poem was not too far-fetched, I thought….

It was a bit of mental gymnastics to fit ‘boar’ into my verses, but I just thought about a trip abroad with hubby (to Italy, actually) where I’d seen one gambolling through the Umbrian countryside, and thought that they’d probably cause some damage if near one’s house, so might have to be chased off?!

Have you any wild boar or elephant stories to share?  Pour forth in the comments, please!




 (Edit 29/1/17: found this today! Definitely adds weight to the wild boar anecdote in the poem!)

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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

Aspects Of Love

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Hiya 😉


I was quite surprised by how many of the words that appeared today were cohesively linked!  So my chosen subject matter seemed inevitable.

‘Salt’ and ‘Prejudice’ had me a bit stumped, however.

But when does that ever stop me?!




Buy   Aspect   Matter   Gutter   Ballot   Withdraw   Salt    Routine   Prejudice  

I want to buy into it

This thing that you have;

Every aspect and matter

You show to the world.


I’m your biggest fan!

Watched you veer from the gutter,

Championed you in a

Neighbourhood ballot.


I’ve watched you withdraw,

Come back fighting and win;

Wept bitter salt as you

Went under again.


Yes, my gorgeous abode,

Your story’s not routine;

But their prejudice has

Made you within my means.


So let’s toast our sweet love,

And now shut out their gaze;

For inside your walls

Remains my favourite place.


Please excuse the spot of tea on the page…

Verses 3, 4 and 5 suddenly rhyme, which wasn’t intentional, but I didn’t have any time to change them (or tweak the first two verses to match).

I would also have probably changed the ‘gutter’ line to read “And this flame won’t gutter” if I’d had the minutes.

Did you immediately think of houses when you saw today’s words? 

Have you ever driven past a house and just really wanted to bring it back to life?  Or followed its fortunes for years, wishing you could own it? 

Have you found your forever home and had to do a lot of restoration work?

Please tell me all about it in the comments!





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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!


Of Quicklime and Mercury

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I am feeling better than I was, as I took some paracetamol about 2pm today, and did not die on the last legs of the schoolrun, but I had to concede that I was not feeling too brilliant this morning, and asked one of my lovely mummy friends to pick our wee one up from nursery for me.

This took 3 miles out of my daily walking total, while giving me time to eat a bit and get my poem done for today.



did go outside of my self-imposed rules a bit, I am sorry to admit, dear reader!  My brain was not working at anywhere near full speed, so I took the pressure off a bit and looked up the two words I didn’t recognise BEFORE I started my 15 minute timer. I hope you forgive me!

The poem was actually written before the timer went off, and my research only took about 7 mins as I was already sure what theme I was wanting to go for after reading ‘Raven’ and ‘kill’!!  So about 20 minutes all in, today?  Not bad for a sludge-filled noggin, I reckon.



Quicklime   Laugh   Craig   Auction   Raven   Kill  Mercury   Foul   Roscoe

“…and I would never use quicklime!”

He finished, with a laugh.

Craig was always so morbid,

Which kind of fitted the mood

As we sat through all those bids

At an auction of dead people’s stuff.


He kept himself neat

So unassuming, affable, but

His favourite topic would barrel

Into anyone who would listen.

He was all “quoth the Raven”

Expounding on horror and spook.


Upon his guidance, I could kill

Numerous people and not get caught.

Mercury filled thermometers,

A whole gambit of foul play.


And sometimes, together,

Gill and Roscoe’s bodacious horror podcast.


Because the dark can enlighten…



More candy floss writing

I did the best I could through the fog, and I think it turned out ok?

I saw ‘Craig’ as a guy who wears Pringle jumpers and decent glasses.  I think the speaker is a female student who is studying English and has mid-length tie-dyed hair. They may have met through mutual friends at Uni.  He’s probably taking Film and Media Studies.

(My subconscious doesn’t just go away if I ignore it, apparently.  It still rumbles on regardless of how yucky I feel).

Who would Craig have been in your piece? Or would ‘he’ have been part of a place name?

As always, expound in the comments please!




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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

The Speaker

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Ooops! Spot the not-in-any-way-deliberate mistake when screenshotting this little lot!!

I looked at the first four words and was praying this was going to be an easy task, because I am so full of lurgy I feel my eyeballs might pop. Urrrgh.  The menfolk have whacked me with the man flu  stick, it seems.  My tum is roiling and my nose is leaking…you get the picture.

(If you look at the hash I made of my screenshot, which I’ve only just noticed and now can’t fix, you’ll also see I’m not kidding)


Hubby was working from home today and I was propped up in our eldest’s swivel chair, trying to get my swimming braincells around how someone could give a presentation about a basket in a bathroom that got welfare interested.

So I wrote this:


Mature   Professor   Speaker   Presentation   Length   Basket   Bathroom   Welfare   Interest

Although he was a rather

Mature professor, his gig

As the featured keynote speaker

Saw him leap about the stage.


Plumping for a headset

To conduct his presentation,

His enthusiasm meant we weren’t

Thinking of his speech’s length.


There was even a live snake

That uncoiled from a small basket,

Mesmerising us all; though some

Saw fit to take a bathroom break.


With no thought for their welfare,

Once the spectacle was over,

A few surged forward with interest;

Scales were touched, questions asked, and then…


The professor packed away

All his notes and serpent dealings;

Closed the lid on being cool and

Wandered quietly away.


Snotty scribbles (just kidding, I used a pink pen)

I surprised myself, and I think it works ok for a first draft, despite the repetition of ‘away’ in the last verse 😉

Our youngest had made me promise before I left him today that if I was writing a poem while he was at nursery, I’d write it about him if the word ‘snake’ came up.  He loves drawing snakes as “scwibbles are snakes, so I dust dw-aw scwibbles”.

The word may not have come up, but he gave me the perfect idea for what to do with that dratted basket!!

How would you have manipulated these words?  I’d love to hear about it!

*Waves, then wanders off to find more handkies*




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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

To Comet, A Crime

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Well, I was a bit miffed when I checked and the word ‘mettle’ is spelt the way it is.  I had grand plans forming in my head when I put it together with the next four words in the line up!

Those hopes dashed, I was not sure where to go from there.  So I just made it up as I went along.

Don’t I always?! 😛


Metal   Cricket   Backbone   Diplomatic   Crackdown   Comet   Leather   Abducted   Mighty

The clang of metal as

He slammed out of the door

Informed me the coatrack

Was off again.


The Cricket on my shoulder

Muttered to me about how

Having a backbone did not negate



I disagreed:  “I’ve tried

Every diplomatic tactic

I can muster; now sanctions

Are all I have!


This crackdown is just tough love”

I tell the Cricket, sighing.


“He streaks, like a Comet, through

All of our lives:

Ice, dust and small rocky bits

All wrapped in a leather jacket!”


(Like my son’s been abducted, a

Mighty huff in his place).


Worked page

I am not in love with the above, but I don’t hate it either.  It is what it is.

The  “Ice, dust and small rocky bits” line was taken from this link about Comets.

I see that a leather jacketed male is in evidence, again 😉

Did you think of the game first, or Jiminy when you saw ‘cricket’? I thought of the game first, but aside from getting someone to mention it at the start of the poem, I wasn’t sure how to work the game in. A conscience seemed an easier fit.

Where would you have gone with these words?



Copyright 2017  Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

First World Problems

Parenting, Random poetry No Comments »


When I saw ‘scratch’, I thought card.  Useful word association!  Then I thought shop and that ‘economy’ could be a size of some goods.  I wasn’t sure how a ‘carpet’ would develop a ‘lump’ or where I’d go from there, but I just started writing, and


it all fell into place.

I rarely food shop with my kids in tow, in fact hubby usually does the shopping.  He can grab small things at the Tesco Metro before he hops on the train back from work, and he does our main shop after swimming with our eldest on a Sunday afternoon, while our toddler mucks about with me at home. But I’m good at writing lists…

I think the harassed mum in this poem can drive, and has at least one more kid than me!


Economy   Scratch   Carpet   Lump   Lily   Accessible    Topple    Ritual   Work

After heaving the enormous

Economy pack of loo roll

Onto the groaning trolley,

Replete with toddler,

I staggered over to claim

My four pounds from a scratch card.


Once in, my carpet half obscured

With groceries, I sat down in a heap

(The lump in my coat pocket

Reminding me where I’d stashed

The Lily bulbs).  I sighed:

Home sweet bloomin’ home.


In the kitchen, none of my buys

Seemed bargains, now.

The larder cupboard, I’d forgotten,

Was no longer accessible

Without soup cans threatening

To topple and maim.


And the kids were doing that

Strange post-shopping ritual

Of humming their loudest

While smacking each other into

The nearest available wall; or

‘Just’ releasing every toy.


Later, I took some chocolate

Sank into my couch and…


The damn remote wouldn’t work.


I usually catch the news headlines at some point during the day, and watch something like Outside Source in the evening, and it is perplexing me more and more to hear of people’s lives being ravaged by natural disasters, wars, terrorist attacks, political upheaval etc.

80gsm-quality scrawl

I have two lovely healthy boys, a husband who is a good man by anyone’s yardstick, and enough money for all our essentials; which enables me to focus on bringing up our children.  We are living in a fab little community with people who care about us and offer their assistance should we ever need it; which is just the perfect environment for our kids growing up, not to mention for us to parent within.  We are so blessed.

…and yet I get frustrated with things so easily.

I get tired, I get moody, I get restless, I question evvvverything, I keep thinking I am not properly living somehow – sure there is more within me that needs to get out.  That I am not helping the world’s problems at all: if I was just somehow different (and had some space in my head to think) I could make a real dent in balancing the world’s injustices.

I think many of us say we are grateful, but feel very run down by what we are doing in life.

I sigh if ever the electricity goes out, or our local council has had the audacity to suggest my unrecyclable rubbish being picked up only once every four weeks. (How am I going to wash the clothes now…? What about rodents…?). 

“I shouldn’t have to live like THIS!!”

But what makes me so special?  Why am I owed more from the world than other people?

I truly don’t know I’m born, and I would wager that a lot of us are the same:

Lucky beyond our comprehension.

I give money to all sorts of charities every year and try to help in other ways where I can, but I still hear myself complaining, like the mother in the poem.

It would appear we all cut our cloth accordingly, and most of us are reaching for someday without focusing on the good we have today.

What are your thoughts on this?



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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!




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I  had nowhere easy to go with this lot, or at least, none came to mind!  Having, again, never heard of two of the words I was wrong footed; and then only had under ten minutes to compose something after looking them up.

So I’m not overawed by my offering, but here it is:






Octans   Average   Ouzel   Minnow   Mourn   Willow   Salmon   Outlandish   Complex


He knew what the Octans was and

(Being of much greater than average intelligence)

He pointed to the blackbird

And declared it an Ouzel.


In his vast sea of knowledge

I felt like a minnow – or

Forced to mourn, like the willow,

At the edge of his mighty ripples.


With a flash of silver, his

Amazing thoughts leapt from the depths;

As determined as Salmon.


No postulation too outlandish,

If it came from his lips, and

No puzzle (for him) too complex

To be solved.


Red scribbles

So my speaker sounds neglected and/or jealous of this world the man (she?) is describing inhabits.  I think he is supposed to be some sort of scientist, but I did not get a very clear picture of anything in my head as I was too busy scribbling!

It would appear that the constellation  ‘Octans’ does not have ‘the’ before it in normal speech, but I (later) read of a ship that shares its name with the constellation, so that kinda works if I italicise it…

I could NOT think how to get garden birdwatching in with the fish references, so I kinda copped out with getting ‘Ouzel’ in there!!

After writing, I started thinking that willows do not grow by the sea, but then read this and at least one does, but it doesn’t look like a weeping kind; so that verse will need to be tweaked…

True Minnows are also not salty fish, but Salmon start off as freshwater and then head to the sea; returning to leap up waterfalls to lay eggs 😉

I scraped my time limit by the skin of my teeth, so I couldn’t tweak anything after I scribbled it down.  (The syllable counting was again just out of interest, and came later, but surprised me as usual).

How would you have handled these words?  Drop me a comment and let me know!



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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

The Ferocity Of Silence

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Hey 🙂

When I read today’s words I just instantly thought of someone washing their hands, and what I ended


up with pleased me – although it felt like the speaker was writing it, not me!

I think my line of thought was skewed by ‘ubiquitous’, as I have been thinking about people no longer in my life, what with the January ‘taking stock/looking ahead’ vibe that seems to creep up on me every year.


Wash   Thrill   Spare   Thick   Narrow   Ubiquitous   Fierce   Soggy   Typical

As I wash my hands –

Watch soap slip silently;

The thrill of cold water

Numbing to nothing –

I can see a spare sock

Stuck under the doorframe

Just a little bit;

The rest too thick to fit.


And our child, standing,

Staring at that sock;

Pondering his next move.

Flexing a narrow finger.


The weight of your absence

Is ubiquitous here;

A fierce silence, rent

By pointless everyday.

And I dry my hands

On a soggy towel,

Suddenly knowing that

I’m finished with typical.



I love the questions this poem throws up. 


I love the way it focusses on small things and then makes a big statement. 


I love how the washing of hands becomes symbolic of fresh starts and a letting go, the towel maybe signifying that the speaker’s tried before many times (it being soggy could also mean tears, and hark back to the ‘weight’ a few lines up) but is suddenly resolute.


I really don’t think I’d change much about my poem 🙂


What did today’s word generation make you think of?


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Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!

What Price Joy?

Mental Health, Random poetry, Relationships No Comments »

Hello!  *Waves at the screen*

How are you all doing today?


I had never heard of the term joypop before, how sheltered have I been?! 

I used to get dizzy from my first cigarette of the day in my teens and twenties, I throw up if I drink Red Bull, and I am the ultimate lightweight when it comes to alcohol; so I keep away from the harder  recreational drugs 😉 

It’s not as if I’ve never had the chance to hang with people who were into them, however…!

I have, of course, heard of bad trips. 

I looked at the words around ‘joypop’ and decided that was the direction to go in.


Personal   Column   Elephants   Total   Silence   Joypop   Entity   Nineteen   Wife

I had this personal idea

That it would be like

Some cartoon.


A column of dancing elephants

Or a gorgeous, tranquil garden.



A sudden epiphany in

The near total silence of a

Sweet starry night.


But that ‘joypop’ released

An entity within

So terrible…


My whole nineteen years

Seeming to cascade

Into nothingness.


Then – dark, dark, tumult.

The seering pain of thoughts.

The horror.


And still, surrounded by love,

That trip into hell

Haunts me now.


My poor wife: helpless.

As I wake: sweating.

Tortured.  Alone.


Etched in green

I feel for the speaker, it must be awful to have something experimental that you did when you were a teenager still have unsettling repercussions on your life now. 

To think of the many times I could have been hurt or killed with some of the stupid situations I put my younger self in…!

It’s the feeling of the world being a vast open space to explore, and us not really believing we can be taken down at that age, isn’t it?

Have you any confessions of teenage mischief you wish to share with me in the comments, joypopping or otherwise?! 

I’m all…eyes!


Copyright 2017 Montaffera All Rights Reserved
Please do not use any of my content (posts, pictures, poetry etc) without my permission, but feel free to link back to my blog if something catches your eye. Thank you!