The Huntress with Helle Gade


Image Source: Flickr

Blue hearts hum

With ceiling fans


Free as coils

Burning casually

On unsocked feet


The huntress comes at night

Her silent voice

Carried by the northern wind

Listen carefully

For she whispers

The secrets of the dark


She hunts the truth

The fears you harbour

She will alleviate

For she is all there stands


Between you and the evil

That hunts in the dark hours


Winter is approaching

With thunderous steps

Gale winds of cold fury

Following from the frosty

North It is time to go to ground

To cover up and wait longingly

For spring to chase away

The harsh breath of frost

I wish I could hibernate


Like a grizzly bear

Awake to budding flowers

And the promise of light


I fear an icy wind, and collapsing through the narrow skin –

Perhaps it is possible to bloom below subzero or survive in stasis

If not thrive.


© 2017 Helle Gade and Ben Ditmars


Poetry at the Delaware Library

Every month poets meet at the library in Delaware, Ohio to read, workshop and discuss their work. We usually include a writing prompt as well. I would like to share a few haiku written by the group and its members. Feel free to join us next month on November 5th at 3 PM. Find the Facebook event here.


dog and board struck hedge

red board wheels tail legs stick out

fell in hedge. think hard.


where am i? in hedge?

feeling free in the darknenss

relax or struggle?


soft hedges blur in-

sanity, new places to

find metatarsals.


We wrote these haiku together:


grass escapes inside

sabrina falls into fog

brioken like a branch.


wind blows orange leaves

two friends sit upon a bench

no longer lonely.


Bitter Consolation


Image Source: Flickr (cc)

heavy elements will linger in the
bitter consolation given

because he knew what he
signed up for

and the waves of gravity
and gold don’t matter

Myeshia is a black hole

absorbing endless light

from speeches and a
fractured sympathy.


© Ben Ditmars 2017


Bump Fire


Image Source: Flickr (cc)

the brush of a hand
slays in

whispers what
the fire cannot take

grows to an inferno

keeping pace with
heartbeats on the floor,

we are less than fully automatic,
or a bump stock, yet we feel
the trigger.

© Ben Ditmars 2017


Haiku in Memory of Tom Petty


i smell of the moon –

one last time to kill the pain

and taste rock candy.


no, i won’t back down

among the wildflowers

we belong to them.


music and chaos

free fall into nothing, the

sounds of nineteen guns.


she was an american girl…

a nurse, a teacher, a veteran.


© Ben Ditmars 2017


Photograph Courtesy of Helle Gade