Tag Archives: poetry



​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

Alpha Betty


Strange, to find oneself
in someone else’s poem,
but if you must write me
between the lines of your
unravelling thoughts

I should like to sit
in one of the consonants –
a soft-centred C;
my spine moulding
to the open swirl

or lingering
in the upturned curl
of a gentle L;
legs dangling like a child’s
on an over-stuffed sofa.

I should not like
to be propped against an I,
(either upper or lowercase) –
such a solitary letter,
so rigid and unforgiving

and to be penned within a U
would be unthinkable;
its tall, unscaleable walls
casting shadows,
rendering me


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Equus Ferus

Horse 1

He arrives mid-morning,
pawing the hot dust,
blunt thrust of snorting muscle
penetrating the corral.

His scent punches the air;
damp and pungent,
the rumbling aftershock
shoulder-charging my nostrils.

He parades, slowly,
rippled flanks
drip-feeding lusty morsels
as I resist the pull to approach.

The rope is coiled
and dry in my hands;
a flaccid snake that dare not
harness his sculpted throat.

I undress, wait,
quivering in the dirt,
while unshod hooves
imprint concentric whispers.

He comes to me, quietly,
in hard, shallow breaths,
allows me to grasp his withers,
clamber onto his unsaddled back.

I lower my quiet ache
to his dark neck,
animal heat flushing,
and it is in this brief fracture,

his body clasped to my breast,
his unspoken verse
pressed to my temples,
that we commune.


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

Helios and other bedfellows


We wake to sunshine;

not the bland lemony light
that fingers blonde venetians,

but a fizzing mirrorball,
between linens,

and white to the touch.


limbs smouldering
in the ruck of scorched sheets,

trace vellum palms,


for the tender balm
of borrowed verse.


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry


Brecon 6

For Ron & Louise and Owen & Katherine

Darkness delivers me
to the belly of the beacons;
a caffled bundle
of newness and nerves
kinked and crunched
between gravel and sole.

Slowly, bathed in the balm
of pine and candles,
skeins untangle, tensions unfurl,
as I sit, silk-washed in words
that tumble over me
like warm, Welsh rain.

Dawn unties the ribbons
of a new day,
presents me with the gift
of light and mountains
and the lilting mellow verse
of friendships forged
over fire and wine.

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry




through skin

blistering scrape
of wintered limbs
across sky


tight twist
of wet tongues
between fingers


tide-clattered barnacles
against craggy bones


crawl in-
uterine serene

taste it
from the rubbery floor

smell it hear it feel it fuck it

metal barbs
through the membrane

on unstaunched walls

lilting crimson script
still glistening
across the beam


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We arrived in our thousands,
laden; waterproofed and prepared
for the squelching, umber trudge.

We stalked, staked claim to the land
and built our temporary shelters;
effective but impossible to find

in the torch-lit, twilight damp. Loosened
by like-minded company, eventide found us
beneath the endless Suffolk skyscape,

throwing shapes as though invisible;
a cagoule-cassocked choir offering
hedonistic hymns in exchange

for a brief respite from the rain.
As we left, small pieces of us clung
to the bosky oasis; twirling bootprints

in the clotted clay, descant notes
perched as dew on forest leaves
and sighs that skittered

on the illuminated lake. Yet,
as the light slipped towards
the end of the earth, I realised

that each of us was leaving
with so much more than we
had packed in our rucksacks.

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Filed under Free Verse



despite our thirst for kindling
we dwell mostly in the dark,
squatting in the ashen embers
of yesterday’s blaze,
for the spark

done with desperate days
running clamorous corridors,
flicking switches,
rocker clicks
uncontrollable licks

preferring now the balm
of a quiet twilight,
waiting for Eos
to truckle voile,
unfathomable vacuum

or simply sitting with silence,
awaiting the hushed glow
of a naked wick


Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

The Lady of Shallot


A curse to see the world in metaphor?
Ripe shoots that claw their way from molten womb,
unfurling from the crumbled, peaty gloom

and ushering bi-lingual semaphore.
Hard facts harangue A. fistulosum’s tang,
pale membranes peel, reveal a juicy core.

As Allium lays waste to mordant Rheum
our verse soars from the vaults; sweet metaphor.

~ My apologies to Messrs Tennyson, Waterhouse and Prater. Tennyson and Waterhouse for nicking the title of their poem/painting (albeit mis-spelt) and Prater for bastardising his Octain – I’m calling it a Dectain on account of each line having ten syllables instead of eight.

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Filed under Dectain, Octain, Poetry


~This piece is dedicated to you, for if you’re reading it you’re part of the tribe.

Words wasted,
invisibly labelled
risibly disabled.
late night study time,
creep to bed,
ideas shed.

Scooped up by the online tribe, electronic vibe coursing the veins, mainlining trains; thoughts full throttle from the full frontal lobe, traversing the globe. Busy stations, new locations, shared vocations, eloquence, elation. Enveloped by talent, consumed, exhumed, lifted by the gifted and allowed to bloom. Sisters, brothers, birthed in verse, kindred lovers blessed with the curse. Pilgrims prepared to take truth to the brink, bound not by blood but by ink.


Filed under Free Verse