Jacqui Thewless

Freshman - 624 Points (November,1955 / Manchester, UK)

Jacqui Thewless Poems

121. Autumn (2) 9/20/2015
122. Autumn (3) 9/20/2015
123. Egos 9/21/2015
124. Lunar Eclipse 9/27/2015
125. Market Day 10/8/2015
126. Haiku In October 2015: Slow Leaf-Fall 10/20/2015
127. Autumn Wood 10/20/2015
128. Until 10/24/2015
129. Young Wind 10/28/2015
130. Nations, Wars, Prisons 10/28/2015
131. Nations, Laws, Castles 10/28/2015
132. Housemates 11/4/2015
133. Moving (Iv) 3/1/2016
134. Moving (Ii) 3/1/2016
135. Moving (I) 3/1/2016
136. Moving (Iii) 3/1/2016
137. Moving (V) 3/1/2016
138. For International Women's Day 3/8/2016
139. Easter Is Cold In 2016 3/24/2016
140. Haiku In May 5/25/2016
141. How Important Is It To Have Even A Small Mountain To Look Up To? 5/25/2016
142. Seeding 10/11/2016
143. All I Could Want In Life Is... 2/7/2017
144. For Lloyd 10/29/2013
145. The Plot (For The Poet, Lloyd Merritt And Ivan, His Dad) 10/29/2013
146. Blue Mood Rules (For Lloyd Merritt) 11/2/2013
147. November 11/11/2013
148. November 23rd 11/23/2013
149. Boris 11/28/2013
150. Perhaps You, Too 12/11/2013
151. Ho Hum 2/8/2014
152. March 8th 2014 Day 3/8/2014
153. Muse 3/9/2014
154. Roadside Tree 5/4/2014
155. Violence 5/16/2014
156. Apologia 6/28/2013
157. Uncommonly Long Winters 7/4/2013
158. Nant-Y-Cwm Steiner School, July ’13 End Of Year Festival 7/10/2013
159. Haibun 1 2/2/2012
160. Snowdrops For St Bridie's Day 2/9/2012
Best Poem of Jacqui Thewless

Et Tu

Love’s loss is
endless.
There will be no recovery
of the thing that is lost –
whatever shall I call it? –
something prime, key, critical,
required.

In feeling this
I’m not alone.
Millions of people every moment every day -
old wo/men, children, teens, our mothers, fathers, friends -
have this invisible
enclosure ripped away.

Love
only has short use, now. We should expect it
to flick out,
the instantaneous blast
to rip our homes apart, the after-shock
to break our hearts,
the loss of what makes him, him,
or you, you ...

Read the full of Et Tu

Haibun 2

Every year in winter I forget what spring is like. Here in Pembroke, and throughout the county, the first harbinger is a white froth of Blackthorn blossom – before the first greening of trees. Yet white is cool; a chaste colour. Later, when the first young green leaves in the hedgerows peep, a sense of warmth to come is quickened and our spirits lift.
At home, I feed the garden birds until the end of March. It is a rare treat to catch a glimpse of the wren.

buoyant winter bird
hidden in t

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