First day allowed out together in the car since lockdown.

  IMG_4809The landscape has not changed. Only the season. When disaster struck, winter was weaving to its end. Fifty-six days have passed. Total isolation. Familiar faces seen only on screens.
Today I am driving through lush, green orchards. Winter rains quenched the land’s thirst. The farmers, unable to tend their fields, gave permission for the grasses to grow, the wild flowers to flourish. The view is stunning.
Yellows and mauves intersperse a myriad shades of green, through tawny to gold. Some pinks dare to show a head as the breeze creates a rippling sea.
Further up in the hills, the only sounds are the birds as they call out in the stillness. Milky butterflies, and occasionally a red and black, do what they do best – flutter through the grasses, stopping briefly at the wild broom and clusters of thistles.
The tiny hamlet of Los Dioses nestles below, not a vehicle or person in sight.
This is a new beginning. The earth is healing Perhaps it was meant to. Among the sadness, which is immense, the world is breathing again.IMG_4805

© May 11th 2020 Christine Nedahl

Seventy-five Years On


The swish-swash of churning waves
fills the heavy boots
before the men are waist high
in chilling water.

Bodies spat relentlessly
into an ocean snare
and heavy sands
many will not escape.

Seventy-five years
passed in a blink
those young men
grown old are sad.

Comrades taken in youth
fresh faced
steadfast in memory.

They live on
in old hearts
heavy with loss
tears never far.

Today they reminisce
relive the sacrifice
letters and poetry
offered in remembrance.

But for those returned
the true tribute
forever etched
in hearts and minds.

© June 6th 2019 Christine Nedahl


Lyra McKee

Image result for Free Photos of Lyra McKee

The message ‘Not In Our Name’ has been repeatedly shared on social media. Credit: UTV

Lyra McKee

Standing for liberty,
honesty, truth.
Passion for transparency,
to understand,
report without bias.

Devoid of thought,
empty of compassion.
Smelling blood,
random act
bought silence.

One person
denied another.
Impartiality stilled
in moment of time,
depriving all.

Her need
is ours.
A voice murdered
by chance,
ignites thousands more.

© April 19th 2019 Christine Nedahl



In the still of the evening

before the light is dim,

lamps are lit

and the moon appears,

a calm descends.


In the pale sky

a feathered arrow

in final flight,

branches beckoning

weary wings to rest.


In this quiet time

the mind is soothed,

thoughts collected,

ready and waiting

for tomorrow’s promise.



The Olive


Tree after tree

grove upon grove

blackened torso

thrice stretched

in salutation

winter stark.


Twig after twig

leaf upon leaf

gloss green


breeze beckoning

summer sun.






Spring – new beginnings

love, rebirth everywhere

precious survival promised.

Summer – warmth, happiness

natures’ trysts made

precious life consummated.

Autumn – relationships mellowed

fruits borne

precious life propagated.

Winter – existence lulled

fledglings flown

precious life suspended.

Seasons’ circle ends

promises fulfilled pledges broken

precious life endures.

I am sad


I am sad

you are no longer here.

Never my love

you belonged to another.

You were my friend

 always there.

Thinking of you

why I’ve no idea.

Not a special day

death, birth, other.

On my mind since dawn

some days this is it.

You’d grin, typical you

my turn to smile.

I knew you well

my soulmate.

No need togetherness

we shared ideals.

In heart and mind

I miss you.



IMG_0021 (3)

Wind howls

round chimneys

through trees

bends double

bare branches

silhouettes stark

sky backdrop

sun squeezes

light through

turbulent cloud

Winter rages

power forces

transitory win

Spring birthing.


Live and let love…

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Chloe looked horrified.

‘You mean you left him to fend for himself? With that woman?’

Tim shrugged.

‘You know what Gramp’s like. I wanted to make them a cuppa but he told me not to fuss.’

She gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head.

‘You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have left.’

‘Chlo, he’s getting old not losing his marbles.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

He stared at Chloe.

‘Yes, I am. You’re making him a dodderer. He likes Cassie and she likes him. Stop messing in their lives.’

‘What’ll happen to the house, his money?’

‘For God’s sake! I hope he lives long enough to spend all his dosh. And you know what, I hope he and Cas go ahead and tie the knot!’

Chloe’s mouth dropped.

‘Are they? Tying the knot?’

Tim smirked.



Read and Vote Weekly eBook via @AdHocFiction Live and let live… on page 7 – please take a look and vote if you like it. Thank you.

My Past


I search for likeness

over two hundred years.

There is kindness, warmth

a gentle smile.

You look well, countenance

not marred by labour in hell.

I place you

in homage to the past.

My past, my now,

children, grandchildren.

Carried forward you and me

to a future we won’t know.

I searched your life

to know your existence.

I learned but will never

understand the hardship, the toil.

You left a beloved land,

sailed to a new world.

Found friendship, love

life blessed through drudgery.

Handsome man unblemished

to my eye.

Inside made old

before your time.

I know you though I never did,

and I love you, my forebear.