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my near-erasure

The pencil, always so poised, so sharp, so in fashion, came, one day, to feel its own lead. The spine within became buckled, twisted, fantasising about its own death. The point became lost, worn down...

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the darker heart

Of all the Queens, I sense I’m Hearts, but it’s the evil that attracts: the darker heart has much more power, from Macbeth to panto’s roar. A poem for day 23 of NaPoWriMo 2015: take a chance

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lament of lonely

Alone, I review what I’ve done. Alienated, I question what I’ve said. Abused, I wonder what I deserved. Bereaved, I imagine being alive again. Happy? I’ve forgotten what it’s like. A poem for day 27 of...

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the woe of the workaholic

for those never-repeat moments, shame I don’t have space is the love of who rubs close what matters really   the time to figure out life, and youth and heart, it’s all too consuming, of the allure of...

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angry red sofa has its day

The red of the leather, so plump at first was anger at my loss of you. A sofa bought on a whim and no prayer landed in a space so skewed. Seven years on, the rage has worn out, as has the leather so...

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the one who gets under my skin

the one who gets under my skin is needy, lays back, waiting to be fed; but what I put on the plate will never be enough: it’s too late, too meagre, too tasteless, too wrong.   the most sumptuous feast...

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the bite of my inner wolf

I’ve always been afraid of you, since you first terrorised my dream, sank your teeth into my innocent forearm, leaving droplets of freckle blood. I always leapt onto my childhood bed knowing you lay...

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can’t or won’t be helped?

Your sigh is deep, you bleat your woes, dump them at my feet expecting me to pick them up and hand them back, all fixed.   Something in the line of jaw, desperation in your eye, that carries age-old,...

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choice between me or you

doing what other people want has squished my me, engrandised your you, and left me wondering ‘what if’…?

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Reasons to stay, urges to go

Reasons Walk in, chat, feel welcomed and held. I’m rated by bosses, part of the meld. Means a lot to belong, when everything else could be me, alone, days become dense.   Urges It’s regular work,...

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clawing the courage to say no

The agony of my indecision had done my head right in. The hurting of my inner child had left my true self wilting. The logic part had made up its mind. The fragility, it was a fraying: teetering in,...

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when people compliment my writing…

  I shrug and say it’s normal: what’s so special about what I write? I also kind of feel a fraud ‘cos it comes so naturally to me. I just sit at the laptop and type, without having to re-read back. I...

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being left without warning

Tell me when you want it to end. Don’t just gift me, compliment me, and say I was brilliant, while it lasted. Then leave.   I need a beginning, middle, end.   I trusted you, felt we had a connection,...

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My Light: a poem for National Poetry Day 2015

You don’t get to blow out my flame when you huff and you puff. You don’t get to turn down my glow when you’re feeling bored. You don’t get to shame my spark Into snuffing itself out. You don’t get me...

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my emptying out

  no more clinging on to the person I was – in a clothed, hidden, impersonal place, out of step and out of touch, yet blessed within ignorant bliss – I’ve shed the very skin I was in. becoming...

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my creative heart

my creative heart has been beating but not seen, patiently not known, hoping, lying in wait that one day, like this, I would notice its pulse and take heed of its sounds listen to its beat, see all...

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a lonely lune

The winds can whisper. Waves can roar. My soul’s still alone. This is my response to Day One of NaPoWriMo 2016, where we’re challenged to write a lune.

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an acrostic family portrait

For the love of us, we’re Always there: Mummy, Daddy. In a perpetual state of Love osmosis. You know what that means.   Perhaps the line missed its cue Or I didn’t follow the Strictly rules. Rather...

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amazing grace

Your grace goes free, a gift to all: in your lash, your smile, we’re all enthralled. Day Three of NaPoWriMo 2016: fan letter to a celebrity Pic copyright: Lucien Milasan

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a poem for joyless january

The sparkle bursts after you appear: down comes the twinkle, replaced by dreary nights of dark, of twisted hope, as resolutions hit a slippery slope.   You’re endless, you’re mean, you bite with cold,...

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