‘Tidy your room’, his Mum said,

the same Mum who loved to leave

a trail of evidence behind her

as she travelled through childhood


A book she read, a sketch half done

some Lego and an apple core

a sock, some Pokemon cards

a rainbow of pens

‘Tidy your room every day’ I urged

‘no matter how tired you are’


Forgetting that I was the one

who accepted praise for

an immaculate room until

my Mum thought to look

under the bed


I wonder if my mother’s mother

suffered the same tribulations,

fearing for the state

of civilization?


In their defense

these busy souls have no time

to fold their clothes and put them away

when there are books to get lost in

daydreams to dream

skateboards to ride

games to invent

hideouts to build

snacks to concoct

and music to play


By Carys Owen


Based on the prompt of incorporating a specific piece of advice into a poem-

‘At the end of each day fold your clothes and put them away, no matter how tired you are.’

d’Verse Poet’s Pub


It crept up on me, unexpected

~ the wonder of grandmotherhood ~

‘I’ll call you Bibi’ he said

and off we went

never stopping

never looking back

forging ahead into

adventure and discovery

learning each other’s faces on Zoom

finding out about galaxies

whales, dinosaurs, trees

new species, curious facts

~ did you know sea otters have pockets?

writing poetry together






recognizing that cheeky grin

warning of mischief

meeting in this world

where we can hug and laugh

running across the field

a football between us

‘Yes, please call me Bibi’

I reply



By Carys Owen


Snow falls from

his fingertips

creating a blizzard

of fresh powder

as he shakes hands

with winter


He dives right in

with the wonder

of his eleven years

unable to believe

the lightness of crystals

the chill of ice on lips

the shiver of meltwater

the freedom of falling

over and over

leaving his imprint

~ now a dance

frozen in time ~


His laughter rings

in crisp air

and all the

winter dreams

he dreamt

are coming true


By Carys Owen

Dreams and Visions


Across the water

I see a canoe

travelling onward

skimming the waves

it is mine to fill

with the ones I love

my children, their children

we paddle together

present, content

it helps me make sense

of the distance between us



Walking in a gallery

on a trip to Tofino

we bathe in the imagery

take imaginary journeys

and my grandson

chooses a card to

carry home across the sea

to frame and remember

this family togetherness

~ it is a canoe

filled with ancestors


By Carys Owen

dVerse- poet’s pub- Poetics Tuesday


It came in

a white van

overnight delivery


I set up my webcam

check my smile

settle my mind

clear my throat

and hit record


‘Good morning

followers, the

latest version

has arrived at

my doorstep!

I’m so excited

to unbox it

with you…’


I slide the

box-cutter through

packing tape

unfold the flaps

and start peeling

back layers of



‘Ah…here it is

…nestled in its own

custom container,

shiny and new

…it looks even

better than

the last iteration-


2023 is here!


Glowing with potential

sleek and streamlined

promises of possibilities

the label reads:


Every second

a moment to be,

a chance to exist,

to put down roots

or fly away


Please like or

share my video

and click on

the link below

to review this

newly released

Limited Edition




by Carys Owen

Thought Of

Today it snowed

layer upon layer

hour upon hour

so I stayed home

let the flakes

do their thing

dancing on air

as they are wont to do


I sank into

the luxury

of slow

wrapped in the

silence only

snow brings


My day passed

like a good dream

soft edges

and feelings of ease


As afternoon waned

the phone chirped

to tell me

that my neighbours

were heading to town

in their SUV

and did I need anything?

It’s the kind of offer

I’d make to them

a circular kindness

we care to share


The glow of this

spontaneous gift

lasted into the evening

a final piece to

complete my day


Happy on my own

and even happier

to be thought of


By Carys Owen

Bear Tracks


Bear tracks

fresh and clear

like cookie crumbs

on the forest floor

we know he is there

so we call to him

let him know we are here

sharing his evening air


We never see him

but we sense his ambling gait

we never smell him

but conjure up the muskiness

we never hear him

but his snorts skirt our thoughts


We fall into calmness

imagining his quest

for secrecy and berries

among the trees and ferns

wearing the evening

like a cloak


By Carys Owen


Footnote– I read this poem at a poetry

evening on Monday then on

Tuesday morning I saw a bear cross

the road just ahead of me- the

only one I’ve seen this year.

Did he/she hear me?


Frog came visiting

croaked her wisdom

reminders of

beauty and freedom


sang a song

of becoming

taking on a new form

perfect and delicate


told a tale

green and gold

of rainy days

and hidden pools

of sunshine

warming tired skin


of knowing

how to begin again


Frog came visiting


By Carys Owen




Whatever we do

let’s do something

let’s not be the ones

who do nothing

though things may

be wrapped in darkness

and sheep’s clothing

let’s keep looking

let’s keep finding

feeling with our hands

listening for the hidden

revealing the mystery

moving intuitively

and doing whatever something

comes to mind, body, heart

perhaps a movement

maybe a sound

possibly a work of art

refusing to let

darkness win the day

refusing to lay down

and do nothing


Let’s put them all together

our offerings of something

and hold them as

a shield and a banner

to overcome

whatever lies ahead


By Carys Owen