Inspired by A New Source

I have just ventured over to Instagram. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about; I ended up with an account and some inspiration for a short.

Not overly sure how Instagram works in terms of using the photos so have instead providing the link. It is an wonderfully creative girl’s account who I met in Goa. See here.

Hope you enjoy this little bit of my mind:

Splashing Hope in My Path

You’re the purple drops of hope
that land in my smeared blackened path
when I’m surrounded by the arms of people reaching out to take a piece of me



Ah to be the closed cupped daisy of the football field
Unfurling to the light of the sun, hiding in the shade
Perpetually springing back under foot.

© LE Purse
Tuesday May 19th



Good evening.

It would probably be predictable of me to write something political tonight on the eve of a (hopefully) new party in power but I figure I’ve got tomorrow to do that. Plus there is only so much I can take of thinking about David Cameron’s bullsh**. Apologies to those who support him or have a weak stomach for swearing.

Back to not talking about politics!

The poem I want to share tonight is one I wrote for our Couchsurfing host, Lottie, in Gothenburg. She has a wall where her surfers do some art/write some words. I wrote a poem for her and Matt illustrated it. It is such a lovely visual thing and it gives you an insight into other’s creativity and into Lottie as a person. Hopefully my poem does that too.

I tried to firmly put politics to the side for this post but in honesty I probably shouldn’t have tried seen as Lottie is an active political member of society and stands up for what she believes in by campaigning about it at rallies and writing songs about it.

So all that is left to do is hopefully enjoy my words:

The Flower of Göteburg

The burned orange edges of her petals
are hues of every colour
holding hands
her brothers and sisters
her roots forever searching
for the watered
sunlight to feed
the earth on which she stands.

19th April 2014
© LE Purse

A stroll a day keeps the doctor away


The last one I will share this evening is about my morning walk to work. My walk is split into three parts and this is how I want to present this next poem.

Even when the sun doesn’t shine I love the first section of my walk through Hove Park. I like the part that the park plays in the community and how I see so many people running and walking and scooting (adults not just children) around the paths and the casually placed druid stone.

Anyway, here it is:


I can’t resist it, this dewy field of unopened daisies yet to feel the sun on their tender inner petals.
I march on through with my cheap plastic biker boots/leather brogues/holey canvas shoes
As the dogs and people of Hove attempt their morning walk rituals
The blackbirds calling to one another as I gaze across the newly transformed tennis courts and untouched picnic benches
Now the scent of blossom trees mingles with acrid exhaust fumes shocking me out of my reverie like an ice cold bucket of water.

18th April 2015
© LE Purse



I started this post back in March and it is well overdue. The poem was written back in March when I was inspired by the simplicities of nature and the complexities of people and relationships.

Here are my Spring sunset words strung together into sentences:

Yellow Heart

You extend your open hand towards mine
Your fingers stretching, reaching towards the light as it streams through the window
The cold words hold you back
The warm of the sun pulls you closer
Day to night you open and close your palm
Teasing me, you show yourself.
At the most tender, fragile stage you reach for me again, drawing me in to tend and care for you
I give you space to bask in the purple of dusk and the shimmer of moonlight

As you breathe in and out
My heart sighs with yours.

March 2015
© LE Purse

As life catches up with me…


What a terrible blogger I’ve become – indulging my real life rather than indulging my imagination. Well, that’s not all true – I have been writing and painting and crafting just extremely sporadically. Not sharing my poetry is perhaps my crime in this case.

I hope that nobody minds that I share a few poems over the next few posts and that these posts come one after another this evening.

The first is one that was just penned, right now. I am attempting to write a poem for one of my best friend’s weddings but at the moment it is all love with a dark coat of paint.

My Muse: Dark Thoughts

So many words whispered
So many words thrown
So many kisses given
So many kisses taken

So many dark thoughts written
So many lines etched out
So many times love’s hatred
So many times that’s my muse

6th May 2015
© LE Purse

We can make this House a Home

I know, I know. It’s been 2 months. Forgive me for abandoning this world for so long. But I’m back now, with a vengeance, to wreak havoc amongst the poetry crowd. To pen as much as I can and really immerse myself in line after line of prose.

I won’t tell you all the stories I have to tell, just yet, but I will tell you one from this week. It’s a shorty but a goody. Matt and I finally got our own little eclectic nest (imagine a magpies home but in Brighton). One of the many reasons I’ve been so busy. Anyway, enjoy this first (shocking I know) offering of 2015…

We can make this house a home

Giant flags and
Fabric rags

Saucepan lids and
Ebay bids

A ball of wool and
The cry of gull

Are all we need to make this house our home.

Uno cards and
books by the Bard

Water guns and
home made buns

Christmas smellies and
Wine filled bellies

Are all we need to make this house our home.

A square of carpet and
Salt and pepper set

A dripping tap and
tiny bedside gap

A cosy bedtime drink and
the radiator clink

Are all we need to make this house our home.

©LE Purse
4th February 2015


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