Supper was a spicy affair;
cocooned in cardamom and chilli,
the newness of us flickering
against old stone walls.

The black dog slept,
woolly head on its master’s lap,
as Jack’s shape-shifting melodies
softened our edges.

Dusk danced at the door
as you led me outside,
draped your arm around my shoulders
and kissed me as the sky caught fire.

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How strange that you are drawn,
again and again,
to our quick, bright flames;
our warmth, our spark,
flip-side to your dark.

Dull, brown moth, chasing the light,
damaged wings clutching
a small, glass jar
that contains only your fears
and your small parched heart.

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​It has taken until now to begin;
for my throat to form the sounds,
my mouth to mimic
the shifting shapes of sorrow
and release them into the air.

I am an infant, grappling
with the birth of language;
each word connecting
and disconnecting me
to and from myself.

Love letters crawl from the
tar pit. Black, sticky,
coated with grief, they slip
beneath triangles that
no longer tessellate.

As the banshee leaves
all that remains in the
blonde light of morning
is a girl, so much stronger
than me before you.

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry, Uncategorized

Y Ddraig

Worm's Head

I’ve looked at it from many angles,
this two-headed serpent that the Vikings
named ‘dragon’.

A thirty year gaze from my own quiet shores
and then briefly, lovingly,
from yours.

I turn it often in my hands;
some days a smooth, silver sadness,
others a jagged saw

that drags at my skin
as a sharp wind claws
at Dylan’s ‘slipping stones’.

I watch it now

from the safety of the West,
the sun sinking behind me,

and as the tide begins to fall
I realise that I have never seen it
from the sea.

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She runs a bath to break the silence,
watched only by a silver-framed
sullen moon.

They sit, at opposite ends
of a warm thought, until words
tumble into soft vanilla light.

Her back moulded to his chest,
he washes her hair, long fingers
untangling caffles.

Intimacy lifts the grey weight
of the day, her transient relief
trickling unseen.


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

The Boatman


For Henry

In the rise of the sun and the fall of the tide
As the little boat slowdrifts away from the quay
Hold steady the rudder as he pulls alongside

As our sorrow and solace begin to collide
Amid fragments of light his new course we now see
In the rise of the sun and the fall of the tide

Though our hearts are still heavy, our tears undried
We loosen the reef knots and accept what will be
Hold steady the rudder as he pulls alongside

On the warm breath of summer sweet melodies glide
Over waves in the cool shade of Van’s Redwood Tree
In the rise of the sun and the fall of the tide

Let our arms release him and our tongues be untied
To sing Hallelujah, set his happy soul free
Hold steady the rudder as he pulls alongside

New horizons to chart with fresh hope as his guide
On his last voyage out on this tranquil blue sea
In the rise of the sun and the fall of the tide
Hold steady the rudder as he pulls alongside

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Filed under Poetry, Villanelle



We close our eyes and kiss in caves,
seek refuge in the ‘you and me’ –
asylum from the dervish sea.

Swept swift and beached by brutal waves,
broken, shattered, pieces scattered,
and all the while Plath’s Mad Girl raves.

Hush, hideaway so none can see
we close our eyes and kiss in caves.


Filed under Octain, Poetry

The Present


Strange thing this, to sit with silence –
millennia of regret; cold stones at our backs.

Clutching worry in work-worn hands,
we balance, fearful, on this brittle plinth,

while the gift of the unopened moment
lays unnoticed at our feet.


Filed under Couplets, Free Verse, Poetry



The sound arrives
on the tail of rain;
low-level hum
held in fiddlehead cocoons.

We listen, rapt,
as tender vibrations
climb velvety stems
bathed in long summer light

and as I lay half-curled
in the crook of your smile,
we turn our arms to the sun
and let the newness unfurl.

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Kissing Zephyrus and The Art of Wearing Sandals


You teased me
as I tripped down the boardwalk,
through wind-blown dunes
in unsuitable shoes.

Words tumbled
across rough-hewn pine,
our newness palpable
in candlelit tales.

I felt the sand shift
as I wiggled my toes
– a habit from childhood
when laughter laced my days –

and again, later,
as you crossed the sky,
pulled a star from the roof of the world
and glistered my lips with a kiss.

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