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On books (NaPoWriMo 1)
The first time I read Auden I saw colour, I breathed new air. He took me to meet friends, Spender, Isherwood, Yeats. All within pages of light, like a midnight moon on a shingle beach. He showed me...
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Stephen’s World (NaPoWriMo 5)
Please read my article ‘About writing- a craft’ as it contains an introduction to this poem. That you could write of what it is to feel in the dark and the light tells that beneath your world, within...
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A question of rhyme? (NaPoWriMo 6)
Before I learned ‘the way to write’- of syntax, stanza, how to edit- I didn’t know I’d have to fight to feel that I deserved some credit. Before my classes, blue was blue, a star was bright, a night...
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She blushes in sepia (NaPoWriMo 12)
He looks at her with fingers wrapped around the lens, twisting it to bring her eyes into focus. He tells her to pretend the camera isn’t there; ‘talk to me, give me your life if you like. Just be you.’...
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Starlight (NaPoWriMo 13)
When he took her hand on a March afternoon when the snowdrops were dying and it was too soon for daffodils, he asked her if she had ever seen a sky so full of stars that there would be no space for the...
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For dreamers (NaPoWriMo 15)
Sleep now, sleep. Dream of pink and orange skies mixed up like cocktails and fields of of daffodils, swaying like yellow silk caught on a June breeze. Dream of crystal blue seas that touch the...
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Cyberspeak (NaPoWriMo 22)
I saw you today and we talked. I saw your eyes as we talked. I saw your meaning when we talked. Because last night you texted and I misunderstood.
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Stings (NaPoWriMo 25)
When I think about his eyes, sometimes grey in the light yet blue in the shade, I am back in that wood on a windy day, the kind that makes your eyes sting. There are nettles, brambles that scratch your...
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Back into the box
He walks down the bus to find a seat. She walks to the newsagents, to find a paper then makes her way back to a leaking tap and a peeling red front door. She smooths out the sheets; shakes the duvet....
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Happy Afternoon
Happy Afternoon In this moment I see the hanging heads of every tree and yet- against the blue-washed sky they seem to smile back at me. The squeals that pierce the air from kids (with insufficient...
View ArticleReunion
There were throes of why nots And never find outs. Unknowns wouldn’t hurt Regrets were for dreams And hidden in days Under normal things Like doorways and lifts To the fourth floor. Endings were...
View ArticleReflecting
Reflecting You were there, behind the bike shed, a nub end hanging from your bottom lip like a last apple. We ran, later, and made patterns in the sand with our naked feet. Your skin glistened with...
View ArticleReunion
There were throes of why nots And never find outs. Unknowns wouldn’t hurt Regrets were for dreams And hidden in days Under normal things Like doorways and lifts To the fourth floor. Endings were...
View ArticleReflecting
Reflecting You were there, behind the bike shed, a nub end hanging from your bottom lip like a last apple. We ran, later, and made patterns in the sand with our naked feet. Your skin glistened with...
View ArticleReunion
There were throes of why nots And never find outs. Unknowns wouldn’t hurt Regrets were for dreams And hidden in days Under normal things Like doorways and lifts To the fourth floor. Endings were...
View ArticleReflecting
Reflecting You were there, behind the bike shed, a nub end hanging from your bottom lip like a last apple. We ran, later, and made patterns in the sand with our naked feet. Your skin glistened with...
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