Diana Chappell

dappled through glades
deep sorrow
hot lava
burning and angry and joins
the moment of death

Di Chappell

Wind of change

An icy chill wind blows
disturbing the fresh snows to land
in dune-like drifts.  Unplanned
white horizons expand to form
a landscape and transform
the countryside of warm greens to
a desert’s bleak cold hue.
Polar climate which drew the snows.

Di Chappell


As usual my year as a writer has been waiting to be brilliant! It is ever on a forward spiral to evolve and place the words on the page in a resonant and telling way, however rather like snakes and ladders, my writing has been more like up the ladder at Anne’s Workshops and down the snake back in Barrydale!

I read somewhere about arranging the words on a page, like word magnets on a fridge. That idea really appealed to me. Rather like making up the words to a song until you learn the right ones. It seems very visual and fluid, open to constant change and movement until finally, like an arrow, they achieve their target and settle into their final position.