What a beautiful thing, To know that, even when we wake to grey And the pitter patter of rain that kicks up Petrichor into the air, The sun is right there Behind the clouds Shining down on us and just Waiting For its moment To be seen.
Dust motes float in the sunlight pouring through the leaded windows,And the clink of cup on saucer and the gentle murmer of hushed conversationLayer a soft soundtrack over my thoughts.Words don’t always come easyAnd when they doSome are strange and some just don’t Say what they meanWhen they leave my fingers to land on the page,Like [...]
The old gods are not dead. You might see them, strolling amongst us. No longer robed in power but clad in fraying knitwear and scuffed shoes. They make their homes in unlikely places - the wreck at the end of the pier, the lean-to behind the power substation on a run down estate. Nothing grand [...]
So much to say But neither the words or the wherewithal To speak A mind, brewing with bundles of Half-formed ideas, Too preoccupied with the Big things of a little life To dot the i and cross the Tea, standing stone cold next to a Half-filled notebook, Dusty dreams lying in wait For a hand [...]
If Hope is the thing with feathers Why does it weigh so heavy on my heart? The lifting of those hopeful wings Seems over before it starts. If Hope is the thing with feathers Where’s the softness? Where’s the smooth? Where’s the chance to leave the ground Without the burden of painful truth? If Hope [...]
It has been a whole year today since I first sent my little book out into the world. When I published, Thrive, I did it for myself, with very few expectations in the way of sales, reviews or reach. It is a small book with a small readership written with the simple hope that it [...]
We spend so much of ourselvesTrying not toFeel. Even when we are marked for emotionIt has to beControlled. We can only feelCertain thingsAt certain timesIn certain placesFor certain reasons.And anything that falls outside that tinyImpossibleBox, is completelyUnacceptable. Sometimes I don’t know ifI’m angryAt myself or the world, butI’m angryNonetheless. I would call on the power [...]
Punctuation is the breath of writing,I used to tell them.It signals the pause and inhale between your words,The lilt of the silent voice that will ring with your stories through their heads.Again and again I would try to explainThis here, not there -Without that, when would you come up for air?You’ll lose all meaningIt won’t [...]
I tried to write a poemAbout my unmakingBut I do not have wordsFor the pain of finally seeing myself - so much less than I thoughtOr the hope of realising what I could be - so much more than I am.May I never forgetOr shy away from this labour ofLove.Unravelling. Undoing. Unlearning. Unbecoming.
Suppose There’s a way To find meaning Even as the world ends Suppose We let the sun warm Our tired faces Even as our carefully constructed world Falls apart around us Look up The sky is clear No longer scarred by our comings and goings Suppose We can find a new way of living Despite [...]