Sunday 28 August 2016


Here, it was love at first sight: the homecoming
avidly sought throughout a lifetime. Ancient
emotionally charged walls and parapets drew me in,
and now I cannot imagine ever wanting to leave
a place so enigmatic and enchanting.
To most, it appears only atmospheric - harboring the subtle echoes
of long-forgotten triumphs and tragedies.
Our footfalls and voices intrude, but the house remains aloof:
a non-interactive observer, rooted in bygone times.

Exquisite oaken beams are edged with quatrefoils, demi-angels and pierced tracery,
lovingly crafted by expert hands using skills now practically extinct.
But this ornamentation is only a small part of Lytes' timeless allure -
past generations of occupants remain here still.
They impress themselves upon our consciousness,
infusing our minds with a powerful sense of belonging.
These days, as I walk among them, they totally inhabit me.
Then each time I leave, I am hollowed out.

These ethereal beings mingle with the visitors,
their footsteps following well-trodden familiar paths.
The two leather ladies, one either side of the fireplace,
keep watch as the centuries roll by.
Their expressions appear somewhat haughty, possibly disapproving.
It is as if they know, can see into our Souls
and interpret our life-paths and aspirations.
But these have no interest in our trivial wants -
for they are from an age before self became all-absorbing.

A spectral Lady Catherine Neville stands
examining her own portrait that adorns the Oriel chimney piece.
Casual observers walk clean through her. One remarks:
"There is a peculiar chill here. It sends shivers down my spine.
I don't like this place at all. It reminds me of a ghastly sepulchre!"
Such blasphemy shocks me.
My Lytes Cary could never be an abode of the dead.
The truth is in the company I keep - and what I shall someday also be:
an indelible shadow on the stone spiral staircase...

Friday 12 August 2016


Irresistible urge to plant a kiss
upon those sensuous pallid lips,
while listening to the priest reminisce
about a life in constant eclipse.

Oh why did he die at the very beginning
of the penultimate episode?
I wanted him there to the end and winning
the battle with his cousin - that toad!

From silver spoon that ushered him in
to the Reaper's final swathe,
he's been here buried under my skin -
in his essence I constantly bathe.

So what comes next for Ryan Gage
now Louis is dead and gone?
Wish I had courage to slip backstage
and interrogate his hangers-on.

And what on earth will become of me
now The Musketeers is finished?
Guess I'll be reduced to the epitome
of dreamer with all hope diminished. ;)

I am taking some time off now, as I have just begun a new college course. 
The workload is huge, so I fear I won't be writing much over the next few months.:/
However, I will post and visit you as often as I can.

Wishing you all a great summer (well, the rest of it!).:))
I will miss you all...xoxoxo

Saturday 6 August 2016


Recollections of all our yesterdays
infuse these cave walls

with fiery emotions that intensify
at each rising of the tide
until the very rock cries out:

I will not remember you!

Oh to fall asleep
in blissful ignorance
of all that has gone before
and in Medusa's gaze
turn to stone: cold, unfeeling

as these chilling winds
that drive the sea into my Soul,

where still you dwell unbidden
in this pink spray: pink,
the colour of my accursed undying love.