Dawn McLachlan
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deemclachlan.bsky.social
Dawn McLachlan
@deemclachlan.bsky.social
1.9K followers 1.1K following 510 posts
Poet, author, bookseller, allotmenteer, for hire or loan. Won some poetry prizes. Account is stuff from a small rural town in NE Scotland. Seeking publisher
#FridayPoem
She/Her

https://dawnmclachlan.com/dawnmclachlan-author/Blog%20Post%20Title%20One-pdlbl
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deemclachlan.bsky.social
Dawn McLachlan @deemclachlan.bsky.social · 4d
Today’s #fridaypoem inspired by the #poemsabout prompt #imps
I’ve suffered from trauma related night terrors for most of my life so this sprung to mind when imps were mentioned.
#poetry #poems #nightmares #nightterrrors
The Mare by Dawn Mclachlan For too long you slept upon my chest with threat of eternal catastrophe my damnable familiar pressing dreadful weight upon me caustic mutters of a million fears turning goodness into dark skulking in the frequent pauses of my joy scraping the thin cracks with long claws waiting in the empty spaces to drown hope with dread watching for rare bright glistening To fill with whispering shadows I know you and I will break your grip throw your hold and turn my face to the moon
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
stacebot.bsky.social
For this week's #PoemsAbout #Imps, I'm thinking about a presence behind the ear.

Thanks to the host @alanparrywriter.co.uk. And thank you to
@thebrokenspine.co.uk and to all of the other writers.

#poetry #poem #writing #PoetryCommunity #BlueSkyPoets
Come close, come close to the tether you broke. By wound, by want, by the crook of your arm— I deliver you this curse: Let my longing mark you. Let the truth undo you. Let every doorway dissolve. Let the spark in your eyes fall-- soft, like a held breath-- and settle where no one can comfort you. And may you carry it, forever, not as cost but memory. Listen close: I curse you to feel me in the quiet-- a presence you can't name without breaking. I don’t wish you ruin. I hope you will be happy sometimes. Let it be. Let it be. Let it be.
December 6, 2025 at 1:17 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social
butterflies
& knots &
whys & why nots
too
together
gather

So
sooo
too much

for a
small
intestine

#SenseWrds
Prompt 155: Buildings Curious Fluttering
#Oulens
#blueskypoets #blueskypoetry
#poetrycommunity #poems #poetry
December 8, 2025 at 12:22 PM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
daveashleypoet.bsky.social
#poemsabout #imp #freeverse #poem #KidGames
@thebrokenspine.co.uk

hedge hopping in the UK is a game kids play where they try to leap over garden hedges/fences without being caught
December 9, 2025 at 12:06 PM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
poetry-with-hart.bsky.social
When I arrived in hell
all I could feel
were hands

#poemsabout #imps #poem #poetry #micropoem #micropoetry #3lines #poemaday
December 9, 2025 at 12:49 PM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
thebrokenspine.co.uk
#PoemsAbout #YouShouldntHave starts Friday.
Write the unwanted gifts.
The fake thanks.
The "I saw this and thought of you" that cuts deeper than expected.
Tag it. Use Alt Text. Don’t post early. For more prompts: shorturl.at/0Xm7A
image of a solitary Christmas tree glowing faintly in a shadowy room. Wrapped presents gather dust underneath. Branding consistent: Broken Spine logo top left, website top right, bottom right: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #YOUSHOULDNTHAVE".
December 9, 2025 at 3:39 PM
deemclachlan.bsky.social
This!! Yesterday walked past a fully grown up adult smoking what I assumed was Hubba Bubba. To really recapture childhood why not just grab a pack of B&H, head to the park, and then chew the gum on your way home?
elencaldecott.bsky.social Elen Caldecott @elencaldecott.bsky.social · 9h
I don't mind the smell of a vape, but I really don't understand why anyone wants to smoke an Um-Bongo.
December 9, 2025 at 5:27 PM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
haileypiperfights.bsky.social
I don't think Netflix should get to eat anything else until it finishes all the prematurely cancelled shows on its plate
December 6, 2025 at 1:31 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
rock-rex.bsky.social
"Landscape".

#poem #poetry #skypoets #blueskypoets #poetsofbluesky #poetrycommunity #writingcommunity #promptcombo #memorial
@rfsmith.bsky.social
December 8, 2025 at 11:07 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
seanjbates.bsky.social
"Come away with me to the simple countryside; we'll be together & pure!" Pastoral poetry is for city folk. Be apprised; there is toil out here too, but also a wildness that defies your imagination.

Today's poem: "Unreasonable Wonder" tinyurl.com/yrj7r9e8

#poetry #poems #writingcommunity #pastoral
Unreasonable Wonder
"Come away with me to the simple countryside; we'll be together & pure!" Pastoral poetry is for city folk. Be apprised; there is toil out here too, but also a wildness that defies your imagination.
tinyurl.com
December 5, 2025 at 8:30 PM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
fiftywords.bsky.social
This #PoemsAbout #Imps is rooted in a particular history, but it speaks to anyone who's ever felt their truth diminished, distorted, or dismissed. It’s for those reclaiming what was reduced and remembering what was hidden. #Speirgorm @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Unshrinking the Leprechaun They made us feel small, a tidy colonial trick: shrink what unsettles you, dress it in whimsy, market it as charm. A whole inheritance flattened into fairytale. A grin nailed to a shameful story. But compression. brings a pressure that one day breaks the spell And then the hedgerows unlearn their taming, the smallness stirs splinters at the edges, height returning, anger breathing, a presence too large for the joke that tried to hold it. Refusing to stay small. Refusing their language. Refusing the lie. Gold is what we find beneath the bright disguise, when a history, long hidden, steps forward
December 5, 2025 at 5:50 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
rayhourigan.bsky.social
Childlike wonder as
Butterfly flutters by, a
Fairy visitor.
#WildWalkPrompt #butterfly #haiku #senryu #poem #writing #writingcommunity
@sonnetsmith.bsky.social
December 6, 2025 at 7:09 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
robgotobed.bsky.social
One of my sister’s kids has just brought me two bottles of bourbon and said, "Here's your Christmas juice uncle Rob," and now she's the one I'm leaving everything to.
December 22, 2024 at 8:42 AM
deemclachlan.bsky.social
These #poemsabout prompts are courtesy of @thebrokenspine.co.uk
Follow and engage!

#poetrypress #poetrycommunity
deemclachlan.bsky.social Dawn McLachlan @deemclachlan.bsky.social · 4d
Today’s #fridaypoem inspired by the #poemsabout prompt #imps
I’ve suffered from trauma related night terrors for most of my life so this sprung to mind when imps were mentioned.
#poetry #poems #nightmares #nightterrrors
The Mare by Dawn Mclachlan For too long you slept upon my chest with threat of eternal catastrophe my damnable familiar pressing dreadful weight upon me caustic mutters of a million fears turning goodness into dark skulking in the frequent pauses of my joy scraping the thin cracks with long claws waiting in the empty spaces to drown hope with dread watching for rare bright glistening To fill with whispering shadows I know you and I will break your grip throw your hold and turn my face to the moon
December 5, 2025 at 11:20 AM
deemclachlan.bsky.social
Today’s #fridaypoem inspired by the #poemsabout prompt #imps
I’ve suffered from trauma related night terrors for most of my life so this sprung to mind when imps were mentioned.
#poetry #poems #nightmares #nightterrrors
The Mare by Dawn Mclachlan For too long you slept upon my chest with threat of eternal catastrophe my damnable familiar pressing dreadful weight upon me caustic mutters of a million fears turning goodness into dark skulking in the frequent pauses of my joy scraping the thin cracks with long claws waiting in the empty spaces to drown hope with dread watching for rare bright glistening To fill with whispering shadows I know you and I will break your grip throw your hold and turn my face to the moon
December 5, 2025 at 11:18 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
thebrokenspine.co.uk
They’re loose: #PoemsAbout #Imps is live.
From now ‘til Thursday, write your chaos.
Use Alt Text. Tag your post.
#TakeRisks #EndOnAnImage #AvoidCliché
Read, repost, reply to 3+.
Krampus is watching.
Inbox prompts: shorturl.at/0Xm7A
A shadowy, menacing figure resembling Krampus stands with glowing white eyes and gnarled horns. The scene is low-lit and atmospheric. Top left: The Broken Spine logo. Top right: "@thebrokenspine.co.uk". Bottom right reads: "Read Repost Reply #POEMSABOUT #IMPS".
December 5, 2025 at 7:00 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
rburrows.bsky.social
Morning! I’m not sure what flu-fuelled babble I’m offering here - I hope it makes sense. My #PoemsAbout #Imps is about a child who used to apparently bring me up in hives. Sorry it’s nothing more cerebral! Best wishes @alanparrywriter.co.uk @thebrokenspine.co.uk #poetry Happy Friday!
December 5, 2025 at 7:13 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
throwawayreg.bsky.social
Morning Friday
here’s my little “throwaway” poem for
#PoemsAbout #Imp and this poem is about somebody’s nostrils
thank you @alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk have a great weekend everyone everywhere
#poems #poetry #nostrils 🚶🏼‍♂️‍➡️
December 5, 2025 at 7:22 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
anntigone.bsky.social
Scared eyes
shining in the dark,
a shuffle in the shadows,
the malodorous stench
of fear.

I've got her,
I've got her...

#poemsabout #imps

@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenbinding.bsky.social
December 5, 2025 at 7:23 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
drnaturegirl.debbiemross.co.uk
Good morning #BlueskyPoetry @thebrokenspine.co.uk @alanparrywriter.co.uk and #PoemsAbout peeps. Today is an off the cuff maybe even off subject offering for #imps At least it’s short! Look forward to reading the other #poems through the day. Thanks for the platform. #poems #poetry
A poem by Debbie Ross for hashtag poems about hashtag imps entitled Heart of Darkness text as follows We are all half human half beast, covering our nature with niceties. Hiding the heart of darkness inside.
December 5, 2025 at 7:40 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
jamesmcconachie1.bsky.social
S’pose I should. Seeing as it’s actually titled #Imps for #poemsabout via @thebrokenspine.co.uk This the 2nd sonnet of a heroic crown about 👽👽 currently emitting an element 115 gravity wave from someone’s inbox..
2. Imps We see they have twice used the secret sun, beguiled before its intonation, lanced obsidian slime and carboniferum, to force the light and heat of their advance. Hove-to, above the forest canopy, John Frum, sung into being by our barque, may keep a distance from the panoply and princely machinations of our arts as though it awed the work of God himself. We could share but a humbling sum of that, beyond the spindlings of an ocean shelf, still deeper than brave simian thought contracts. Fixated as a bird, upon the sky. Peeke-in-the-Crowne, the imps are here to pry.
December 5, 2025 at 7:56 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
rotherwrites.bsky.social
Yes, a tricky prompt this week (aren't they all) for #PoemsAbout. Is it possible to lighten up with #Imps? I'm doubtful; I failed. Bring it on.
This was from a free write with very minimal editing.
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
#PoetsOnBluesky
December 5, 2025 at 8:06 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
jenthorne.bsky.social
I think I may have been reading too much Terry Pratchett lately, but I really enjoyed doing this one.

@thebrokenspine
#PoemsAbout #Imps
#poetry #poetrycommunity #blueskypoets
The Imp in the Camera It lurks in the hollow behind the lens, grown fat on the scraps of my ruined photographs. It adores everyone else. Gives them soft light and noble angles, skin with the sheen of rich cream, eyes polished to an icy steel glint. But when it sees me, it cracks its knuckles and swells me into a drifting dirigible. Turns my hair into a haystack mauled by a single minded cow. Shapes my mouth into the grimace of someone sipping cold tea. It sketches double chins with ceremony, sets them on a collapsed deckchair posture, then grants me the complexion of a potato forgotten in the pantry. I am certain it submits its work to the Brotherhood of Unflattering Portraits, where it wins awards for “Most Gargoyle Like Subject” and “Best Use of Shadows to Suggest Facial Hair.” I continue to pose, obedient in the ritual of humiliation, while the imp cackles and offers fresh proofs of my lost dignity. All around me, everyone else glows with unearned radiance in the cruel bureaucracy of light.
December 5, 2025 at 8:25 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
francesca-laura.bsky.social
I haven't slept well in weeks so the #Imps must be running wild in my head. Thanks @thebrokenspine.co.uk for the latest #PoemsAbout prompt! #Insomnia #Exhaustion
A poem by Francesca L Rolle: Title: Impetuous Visitors Poem: The imps are inside my brain, Flicking on switches and tapping out a tango on my frazzled neurons desperate for some sleep, The imps like to party and they don't care about the inky black pooling beneath my eyes, They flash lights through my irises to create colourful strobes, And sing whistling tunes that echo between my ears through the day, I've asked them to leave but they don't seem to hear me, They'll keep up their tippy tapping until the last nerve ending has frayed, With no more fun left to have, They'll depart in a hurry, Leaving debris strewn about my mind not quite what it once was.
December 5, 2025 at 8:55 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
zoomburst.substack.com
#PoemsAbout #Imps A true story...
Old Holborn My Dad had a dead imp In an old tobacco tin He kept it under lock and key In the shed out back My mother wouldn’t allow it in the house He seldom let us see it If we found him working in the shed And pleaded with him for long enough He would prize the lid off the tin Revealing the little wizened creature within Its ribs visible under shrivelled leather skin Yellow teeth peeping between grimaced lips Was it a mouse? No tail Was it a bat? No wings Where did he get it? His grandfather found it Under a sourapple tree No more questions He snapped the lid tight closed Clearing out the shed after he died I found that old tobacco tin I took it home and opened it up To examine the shut fast sunken eyes The clawed fingers The tiny strands of coppery hair Here’s the tin, see I left it open that night On the kitchen table I climbed the stairs to bed, alone And never saw that imp again But sometimes when the house falls silent I hear a scratching and a shuffling And, every now and then A tiny rattling laughter
December 5, 2025 at 9:32 AM
Reposted by Dawn McLachlan
ianbrownlie.bsky.social
I was going to skip #PoemsAbout this week as I feel festively-rushed and wasn't engaging with the prompt. Then I had a free moment at work and pondered writing about something else and just calling it an #Imp. Then I went and tied it back in anyway.
@alanparrywriter.co.uk
@thebrokenspine.co.uk
a rose by any other name the imp is such a perfect flower the king of floral porns and yet, beneath that blushing bower lurks a spike-strip of sly thorns
December 5, 2025 at 10:10 AM