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My gift to you.
Poems for you to enjoy.......

Mya Roberts
Lady Chatterley lay like a special offer
on the supermarket floor
by the door.
Exposed, akimbo, unexpurgated, unabridged,
but certainly not unadulterated.
Modestly clothed in a lavender cover,
she looked for all the world like a virgin.
In another world, Lady C,
you would have been modestly robed
in a plain brown coverlet.
Stealthily passed from furtive satchel to discreet desk,
revealing your charms
through pages dog-eared by intent.
All passion spent,
you now come free
with Classics Monthly
exposed for all to see,
the F word slotted neatly
between the TV Times
and Woman’s Weekly.
Oh, Mellors, where are you?

The iconic Penguin book Lady Chaterley's Lover by D.H.Lawrence

                                            a prose poem by Mya Roberts
Born from freshly melted glaciers, the white-crested waters of the Cheakamus River gurgle, churn.
Living, beautiful, yet cold.
Cold, very cold.
Sedate start, gentle flow, deep clear waters of the Paradise valley run. Imperceptibly the river quickens, becomes crumpled and creased. White water tips and tumbles the surface, gradually transforming crystal sharpness into glacial-silted milk.
Sapphire sky backdrops emerald forests of cottonwood, red cedar, hemlock, Douglas fir: yet distant mountains are snow-clothed and magnificent. Glaciers creep downwards. Glinting silver ribbons of waterfalls lace the chiselled mountain-sides.
Waters twist and coil through a panorama dominated by awesome Tantalus Mountains and unmistakable peaks of Alfa, Omega, Mount Garibaldi. Sheer cliffs cut down to curdling currents where deep slits and caves’ inky portals are etch randomly into the cliff face. Water fowl hint at their presence and, overhead, birds sail. But the dominant music, the omnipotent sound, is the gushing water.
‘Eagle on the right.’
Perching high in the womb of the cedar, the unmistakable white head and black folded body of the bald eagle. And beside it, another. Oars up, breath held, we pay silent homage.
A bridge traverses, and beyond it boulders have jostled themselves into the river, creating a great drop - our taste of the might of the Cheakamus, daring us to collide with the rocky outcrops and nodding tree trunks as they puncture the river’s surface. The Cheakamus is growling, soft green, opaque as we swirl in its exploding maelstrom. Frothy, creamy tongues lap and spray our damp glistening faces. Elatedly we bounce, dip, dive.
Too soon the river’s rage diminishes. Gradually our world ceases to swirl.
Then - on a small isthmus of grass-sprouted shingle fingering into the lazily churning river, a beautiful deer stands, head raised in attentive watchfulness. She has been drinking at the water’s edge and now hesitates. Deciding enough is enough she gently retreats to tangled forest safety.
We drift downstream. Torrent becomes flow. Milky green reverts to crystal. The surface of the river is a thousand sun-specked diamonds.
Closing my eyes I see a gushing river, a downy deer, snow-dressed mountains and spiraling eagles, all etched against the brightest blue sky.

The author braving the White Waters of the Cheakamus River

A few websites you may enjoy:

The Guernsey Sweater:


The Guernsey Eisteddfod /latestnews


Guille-Allez library


Guernsey Literary Festival

Isle Madam Historical Society

Cranthorpe Millner, Publishers

Jacci Gooding, Author:


Pippa McCathie, Author :

The bit near the end to awaken your inner writer  .......


A writing exercise for you

Imagine You've found a briefcase and you look inside to identify the owner. Without thinking too hard, list six items you find there. avoid the obvious - tissues, phone etc. Now write a short character sketch based on the items you've discovered.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -

Haikus: I’m very fond of a Haiku.

 Of Japanese origin, it is traditionally a three-line poem composed of five, seven and five syllables. To include a season of the year is conventional, as is a reference to the weather and to life and nature. The senses should be engaged and verbs kept to a minimum.  

 What is a haiku?

Haiku is a single breath

that breathes with rivers.

                                               George Bruce


Now I give you one finished haiku, and one incomplete haiku. The second haiku lacks a last line (five syllables).


Where all the brown leaves

have fallen dead from the tree

see no dance nor glee.


Bearing in mind the traditions of nature and the senses, have a go at finishing this haiku.


Night. A star looks from

the water. He touches silver.

_ _ _ _ _


Now write you own. Keep to the traditional 5,7,5 syllables


I hope you enjoy engaging with your creativity.

       And now a 10 minute exercise

                 to further sharpen your writing skills

Imagine a character who is alone in the room you are now in. It is their room. See it through their eye. Write a page describing it. Don’t mention that character or refer to them in any way, but bear in mind that they have just had a phone call telling them that they’ve just won lots of money. How does their emotional state colour their perceptions? to refer to the character, even by using a pronoun (“I looked at the furniture,” for instance). Tell only what they see.

Now describe the same room as seen by that same person, but this time they have just had a phone call from a homicidal maniac who’s coming to kill them. Follow the same rules as before.

This exercise reminds you to match your description to the story or emotions of your character. Don’t just include description for the sake of description. Use it to set the mood.

Be creative and have fun.

And another .......

Close your eyes and focus on the sounds around you.
Now, write. Describe them in great detail. If you hear nothing, describe the nothing. Keep the pen moving.
Write a flash fiction story or a poem of exactly 100 words based on the above work.
Be creative and have fun.
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