Window/Mirror
Window Seeing is believing, or… Looking out I see you looking in. But is the you I see the real you, or are you disguised? Mirror …not, as the case may be. Looking in I see me looking out. But is the me I see the real me, or am I deluded?
September 2016 Challenge
Here are two short poems from Katherine Towers (‘The Remedies’, Picador, 2015): Rock Rose – a remedy for terror I can’t look down from this chalky brink. As I cling, I listen to the large sea rummaging for where the cliffs are soft, or thin. Dog Rose – a remedy for those whose lives lack […]
Far and near
Far and near It’s a convoluted story, told by my exotic new colleague. Adds much needed spice to my humdrum working day. A woman of mystery from afar. From far, farther, farthest. Far beyond my limited horizons. The land of Far. The story of how someone so far-out ended up in this office of all […]
The start of Autumn
Smell the expectation as the earth snuggles down under layers of summer cast-offs fastened with buttons of left-over daisies Watch the tired wind as it tiptoes down from the hills to tickle the damp socks on the line High up on the eves of next door’s house comes a silent announcement from an empty nest […]
September 2015 Challenge
How do you take what appears to be a dull and uninspiring task and turn it into something other? Here’s Alison Brackenbury’s poem Bookkeeping: http://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/bookkeeping Tedium turned into the extraordinary.
Blue
(After Billy Collins – The Lesson, and a brilliant workshop by Robbie at Barmoor) Originally the lines were much longer. Maybe they’re too short now? BLUE When I found blue coiled on my sofa I uncurled her slender fingers and took away her prized Jay’s wing, the one with a flash of blue like the […]
Choughs at Llechwedd Slate Quarry
Any comments on the following poem will be gratefully received! Choughs at Llechwedd Slate Quarry She shuns the soft pink cliffs of South Stack (or the sea-pinked cliffs of South Stack?) for the company of hard men who break their backs to roof the world. Her Kyaa Kyaa call bounces off wing-black cavern walls, mingles with […]
Writing retreat in North Yorkshire
Here are some photos from Barmoor:
All in a Day’s Work
I am the wind which blows, I know no bounds, My strength is infinite, My wings sometimes take me to the four corners of the earth, From the cold of the eastern European Steppe, To the South African buschland or veldt, Or to the Kenyan savannah, Where I find I rarely wish to blow, Or […]
September Challenge
TBA