Thursday, 21 September 2017


Stasis in sunlight.
Then the blue expanse
of sky and horizon intrude.

Arthur's archetype
has drawn me here
to this high place - the Head

and its fissured precipices,
crumbling walls
and secrets I cannot quite catch:

The Grail.
Knight Seekers inciting
fanaticism -

hidden unfathomable truths,
mythic ghosts.
Now, something more profound

hauls me back through centuries.
Changing shape,
I am a different being -

a black
Cornish Chough, perched
in Gallos' hollow centre.

And now I
call to the Once and Future King:
a familiar's cry

carried on the Dragon's breath.
And I
become the Horn

whose reverberation
reawakens Him
to Albion's dire need:

a new Armageddon is upon us...

Friday, 1 September 2017


Snowdon summit, air thin, two exhausted climbers.
World population seems illusory here.
Our shadows must surely touch Australia.

Thick cloud rushes up and over the Saddle.
It's cloying touch slows our progress, makes breathing difficult:
light-headedness brings visions of the Dark Angel.

Loose rocks dislodged from underfoot crash
over a thousand feet down sheer sides.
We gasp in unison: that could just as easily have been us!

The Angel's blackness closes in. Vertigo
induces transcendental awareness: we have strayed
into the shadowy realm of lost Souls...

Sorry, I meant to say...I will be absent for two weeks. Will be studying hard...and without access to any media.
It's gonna be tough...but hey...I'm sure I can do this - with the aid of your supportive thoughts!
See you soon...xoxoxo

Sunday, 27 August 2017


For Checo...

This week's race is infuriating:
a clashing of team-mates, high speed,
deadly. I hide my face in fear.

He could die, be maimed, by another's ego trip.
Wreckage on the track. Safety Car. I search for his face.
Phew! Luckily, he's still here only now at the very back.

Now he's being blamed - so unfair - by those
lacking experience with tongues like scythes
hell bent on felling true greatness.

Friday, 25 August 2017


Still trapped
within the moment,
re-living Fate's
capricious taunt.
Can't let go
of craving something
once perceived
then snatched away
from desire's unlimited
fantastical vision:
aah the dream-form
yet out of bounds
that I want so much
to touch,
to be part of,
to make my own
reality absolute.

Oh magic ritual
please work for me:
                          sacred water
                                                flame of candle -
all four elements now combine
to forge a fourth
and hopefully release
Creation's power
in this circle today:
Transform my longings
into something substantial
by opening a doorway
into his heart.

The cost is high
but it makes no difference.
I'll risk my all
to just once more
gaze into those gorgeous eyes,
such dark brown eyes
framed by even darker curls;
to be the object
of his desire
and feel the power
arc between us,
if only for a moment.
Oh how different
it'll be this time!
I'll bare my soul
with heart on sleeve
and hope
and hope
for the utterly sublime.

Now slipping deep
into fragrant half-dream,
transported by spiraling
incense smoke.
Mentally backtracking:
I'm here again,
standing before him -
but well rehearsed words
abruptly die
in a throat so constricted
I'm gasping for breath.
Hell! It's happening again -
this effect he has -
I'm rendered dumb
and feeling stupid.
Oh please Elemental Powers
show me this day
the way...

Well, he looks
right through me -
this living wraith
who's willed herself
into his life.
I'm here!
I'm here!
I call in silence.
But he's far too focused
on the outer world
to notice a shadow
playing with matches.

It's the Element of Fire
that's out of control:
my desire,
all-consuming desire,
feeding the candle flame
that leaps higher and higher...
until I'm totally consumed
in the blazing furnace
of power misdirected
by foolish,
passion unrequited.


Sunday, 13 August 2017


A photo of you on Mizen's Head
in the dead of winter, so dashing in khaki uniform
and framed by spray-fringed tides and leaden skies.
In your eyes lurk disturbing truths: infidelity,
irresistible sin.

Loving out of context
and wild oats sown in another's domain -
repeated over and over again,
disregarding procreation's constant threat
of contamination by English DNA.

But such allure was too strong to resist. To hell
with the consequences. But did I really imagine
I'd escape unscathed? A village up in arms
against the Jezebel: public stripping, shorn hair.
Such humiliation binds me still to Ireland's past.

Even today there is no let-up. Vivid memories
of your laboured breath in my ear,
and the constant taunt of emotions up-leaping
to covert messages over crackling telephone line:
oh such blatant thrilling eroticism!

I never set out to find you. A Catholic wife,
such complication was the last thing
I needed then. Nevertheless, two worlds collided
in a head-on smash. Total devastation.
First sight: searing passion, a trap

we fell into. An animated portrait of  doom -
Satan's sadistic toying with the weak.
Then birth of a guilt complex conceived of deceit
and self-indulgence. I was suffocating,
yet clung to you knowing I should have let go.

Constantly wary, like two escaped convicts
we crept around in the shadows, emotionally exhausted.
And what of the cost? What of your victims?
The fallout could be catastrophic.
Holy Mary, please don't make me think of that!

The Vatican has eternally damned us, I know. My punishment
is to live with the harrowing sound of that explosion
when you blew yourself up, out there on the shore.
As I left for Dublin and my new life
Oh how I grieved for you, but could tell no one.

"Put it all behind you," Father Collins advised me.
Put it all behind me? Pretend it never happened.
Your life, your death - like a far off reverie
fading with each passing year...
But real life isn't like that, is it?

I am old now.
And I have never loved again.

I am taking a little time out to recharge my batteries, so I will be back in around a week.
Will miss you all...
but have a fabulous week! :))

Monday, 24 July 2017


Lying in the sun.
Dozing, beginning to drift
                                       ever higher.
Looking down at myself,
                                       trying hard
                                                     to remember
what I came here for.
                               Only blankness.

Lying in the sun.
There's a hole in the sky
                                     light streaming in.
I can see Heaven from where I am.
A man I love lives there,
was never in my life,
                               neither did he love me.
Who is to blame?

Aah, this precious sunshine!
                 I am hot and feverish.
The sun is scorching
                               and my breathing is laboured.
Overhead is space.
Oh there is so much I've lost.
Burn on, pale skin.
I'll be dust too,
                     and like him,
                                       find peace...

A curtain drawn.
                        Retail therapy.
Sleep like a log.
                                      Trying not to think.
I feel like getting blotto,
                                    fill a glass.
Fed up running from delusion
                                             going nowhere.
On a crowded train,
                            no one smiles or says "Hi."
Then I arrive and meet a guy -
                                            he hangs on to my every word.
He wears your face.
He's yearned for me as you never did.
He asks me to stay.
"I'll make everything alright,"
                                            he softly whispers.
"No, I can't," I reply,
                              "there is someone else..."
And my mind is racing.
"Let's go out then?"
    "What's wrong?
                          I don't understand...
where is this other guy?"
                                  I shake my head.
What can I say?
                      And I reply,
"He's in my Soul."


In loving memory of my Father...

The blooming of red roses and honeysuckle,
their heavy scents pervading the air:
a poignant reminiscence that haunted my Soul

whilst sitting in that sterile room
as my Father died by endless seconds,
just a heartbeat away behind wall and door.

How would anyone value his garden?
Such an earthly paradise, so fine:
the density of bamboo, immaculate lawns,

the echo of his mower, smoke from a bonfire,
and the flowering almond tree
he planted for my Mother on their anniversary.

And in the Chapel of Rest, an image of spade and fork:
iron, cold as his post-mortem flesh
and my rapidly petrifying heart.

All these come to torment me still, with profound longing
for bygone days: of being lifted high in purest love
by those gentle green hands...

Also dedicated to my brother, Chris, who is currently recovering from a serious motorcycle accident...and to all my amazing distant friends, in deepest gratitude for your wonderful words of support through this difficult period in my life. Mere words cannot thank you enough...