About Sonja Benskin Mesher

I write, I draw, I paint and make things. Am quite patient, hold my tongue, but can't say multi disciplinary. Easily

. is a hole .

there is a hole in the ground

it was not there yesterday


there is a tear  in my vest

which is  really new too


one day the phone works and

the next day it doesn’t


all things gets broke

don’t work


you can mend them now

not buy new


remember how he mended your mother’s plate

for the memory,      souvenirs can come cheap

the glue showed brown on drying            now

it becomes habit, a signature dish


it was suggested i have a little shop

to sell the twigs and badly mended



seriously why not

these also have a value


then the car worked yesterday

now it does not


it is a hole unlike any other

it appeared overnight and while i am small

i can  try,  take my time to  fill it up again


with earth and other things





.my heart.

my heart is quiet

i do not feel it beating yet

the rhythm is there

my heart is silent

while all comes well around

yet roused it will sound


come the other days

come the sadder ways

heart is there just there, look


i think my soul is thereabouts

where the feelings come and pain

or gain



they say it is the brain that does the thinking


we may also listen to our heart



.autumn cameo.

later i am today

the darkened room

resonates still with

all the goings of the night

things come backwords


while i felt all was well

perhaps it was not

news startles

we shared it at the meeting

i find i am a small part of

the worrying

yet what can we do?

some were busy, then

they were stopped so

i may not see them

drew the curtians early last eve

while waiting and through the chink

left saw one golden tree

autumn cameo

each little thing

while some things break

.your reply.

your lovely reply
good that you broke the dread
or solitude could have placed

good that you have company
make company in linen piles


laundry full with
no respite

though promised faithfully
by others, those that wish
you to work, to keep working
for them

enjoy your three days
i hope that off you go
bike riding

i am comfortable back home
interesting times

with a note that i shall
be unavailable a while
extinction rebellion
despite all claims
and opinions

i saw joker
i found the threads

it is still dark

.who called?.

the phone rings

an empty room, back room


quarry tiled

dust settles on



bakelite , cream, twisted wire


bell sound

bell sound


wind blows around the houses

leaves fly ; a mass extinction


red tiles, bell sound

dust settles

dust motes


phone rings ; bell sound


no one answers

no one is left


who rang?




numbers mix with words

i am returned

it was a pause in proceedings

a breath for continuation into

the season

a sociable hiding

it rained a lot &

i found friends


look out for cors caron

to walk on water, wood

the space between where

words will seep out

walk alone

look out for florida abbey

the woods beyond

the man who talks of moss

touches it gently

i explained about the twigs

a metaphor for kindness, care

remembrance not to overlook

the small things. to treasure

the differences in folk. to treasure

familiarity in that  which surrounds us

James. you already know this

perhaps it is i who needed


how are the cats

mine are good

and so is betty

who stayed