The Isles of Shoals 1912 Childe Hassam

Who is she
this woman of silk
outlined among the rocks?
She sits perched
like a muffled silhouette
some distance off
in this silent, deserted spot
where the sun throws its fire
on the water and copper
licks at the shore.
The tide will stir and rise
in endless ebbs and flows,
the azure of the sky
the roof of her world
when she dreams,
absorbed, fragile as china cups.



© 2012 Louise Hastings



Giorgio de Chirico – Love Song

Indolent gods stand still as stone
gazing from world to world.
Hurtling towards tomorrow
they spend lives of queasy yellows,
monochromatic acidic greens.
With backs against the shadows
our silent voices (our love song)
sings to aqua skies. Outside the
stillness waits, as we do,
for a remembered taste perhaps
of Adam and Eve’s  first storm.


by Louise
In response to dVersepoets Poetics – hosted by Mark Kerstetter who asked us to write a poem inspired by one of Giorgio de Chirico’s paintings. I have to say this is one of the strangest poems I have ever written.. 😉


‘Alfresco’ painted by Alison Jardine

Between the water and the sky
lies all of nature wondrous wild.
The bird that skyward tries to fly,
while heaven kissed the wayward child.
Love’s endless minutes roll on by,
as morning sun shone bright and smiled.
Not quite a waking truth, a dream,
this silence blessed down by the stream.

The sea is deep, the moon is blind
as fairies wake you with a kiss,
sapphire mysteries for you to find,
amethyst stones, forbidden bliss.
A stream of light shines from behind,
your choice to live, what life is this?
Exquisite magic, tastes of wine,
whispered secrets, limbs entwined.

by Louise

Written for One stop poetry ~ Friday poetically by Brian Miller

Dear Poem

Lithograph of the ballerina Carlotta Grisi (18...







A blank piece of paper
stares back from the clutter.
Come, music of the page,
limbs of a ballet dancer
wearing a purple dress.
She’s teasing, floating out the open window
in a hint of a summer breeze.
Volatile and restless,
dancing the pirouette above my head.

We struggle on, battle the lines
guarded by the troops of rigid reality.
Over to the other side where swirls
of wonders lie. Emerald encrusted gems,
sparkling, waiting to be plucked
and planted in a rhyme.
A  burst of clarity – I move a word or two.
The puzzle’s solved, the final pieces fit.


by Louise

I found I couldn’t write anything today for one shot wednesday, so I’ve tweaked a poem I’d written for NaPoWriMo back in April. I couldn’t write much that day either….why do muses have to be so fickle?

You can also view this poem (untweaked) on author L.M.Stull’s site @ who was calling for submissions of poetry about struggles with writing.


I know my name
in a world of hierarchy.
I know my place,
passed down through the generations,
down to me, me of little faith,
struggling against the tides of nights
I never sleep, however I lie.
I need to describe it,
articulate all that dumbfounds me
with poetry and words.
What name defines me?

Woman, lover, poet.


by Louise

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” ~ Romeo and Juliet