One Poem by Michael Caines

Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.


Not so far from gilded Versailles
she comes to the pond at Ville d’Avray
where a silver birch implies a frame
and a nearby bough goes out on a limb.

The cypresses stand in their proper spot,
far from this foreground niche where regret,
rich in brutal words and actions,
leans and turns to cooler reflections.

The mind drifts, and the afternoon
drifts with it. For now, she feels no pain –
for now. Yet some hint of that hits home
on the gnarled path as she passes him.


Michael Caines lives in London, and was longlisted for this year’s National Poetry Competition.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.