Friday 27 September 2019


How she loves the glowing embers
in the dying of the fire:
those luminous pictures, ever changing,
that fascinate and tease

imagination's wild subconscious
into a prophecy foretold
of fiery nature and jealousy's curse
that characterize all she is.

Plucking Mars from constellation
to justly worship, she absorbs
His qualities: powerful will and masculinity,
condensed into female form.

The embers now fading - a childlike lament:
the pulse between ashes and Soul.
Reawakening of something older than time -
Destiny in the flickering of final flame.

Friday 20 September 2019

So sorry everyone...I am currently in an area where the internet coverage is extremely poor. 😬
Will visit you all when I return home, in around a week.
Do hope you receive this...

Friday 13 September 2019


You're here again,
inside my head when I'm trying to sleep.
You're here again,
smashing my confidence on a level deep.
Harsh words echoing around my brain
'til I feel like stepping in front of a train.

You're here again,
tearing me apart layer by layer.
You're here again,
as always the central player.
Bruising, belittling, crushing self-esteem
because I failed to live up to your dream.

You're here again,
shouting, criticising, putting me down.
You're here again,
ensuring that in tears I finally drown.
Oh why am I here if I'm worth so little?
You are so cruel and my ego so brittle.

You're here again,
reminding me of how flawed I am.
You're here again,
insinuating what a failure I am.
You insult and wound with every word
and yet keep me caged like a helpless bird.

You're here again,
only this time I'm finally closing my ears.
You're here again,
but you've no longer power over all my fears.
Oh I'm sorry, Inner Voice, that I've cramped your style,
but now let me be me, without being on trial.

Written on World Suicide Prevention Day...with deepest compassion.

Friday 6 September 2019


He adored her
but their bond was fraying.
They flitted between being lovers and strangers.

He'd bought a vintage Cadillac.
He sang in the garage.
She shouted at him

and a spider dropped from the rafters
as if he, himself, was fair game.
He incensed her. It snowed.

The Cadillac got polished. It shined.
She threw her hairbrush against the wall.
He sat in his car, in pure ecstasy.

"I'll enter her in the Concours d'Elegance" he said,
"I'll clean her engine parts!" They gleamed
from all the loving care and attention.

The engine purred like a contented cat. He was in his element.
She wanted a night out.
He was checking the oil.

They attended a friend's wedding.
As he threw confetti, his eyes never left
his beloved car out there in the street.

The Cadillac won 1st prize in the Concours.
Winter mornings cast long shadows
across all except the garage.

She stayed in bed. She was fed up.
He was fine-tuning and tweaking the points and electrics.
She threw his breakfast in the bin.

And when her home made cakes flopped
and when she failed an important exam
and when their son moved out

he was lying under the car
and tinkering with the exhaust system.
The car looked brand new

and the aroma of oil and polish permeated his clothing.
He stumbled upon her this morning, sobbing in the garage.
She thought she'd lost her keys in there -

at least, that's what she claimed...