Friday 26 June 2020


By the hapless uterus cruel fate took hold of me.
It twisted, it crippled, it tore out my Soul;
it rendered my world no longer whole.

I crumpled in it's grasp like a worn-out dress.
I stumbled and fell into a kind of hell
that held me fast in it's prison cell.

My life dropped out of consequence like a raindrop in the ocean:
hour stretched into year, and year into dismal eternity
that wiped out all hope of blissful maternity.

A marble gravestone still pins me by the heart.
It bears in deepest ebony pearl
your name, your name,
                                  my precious baby girl.

On the anniversary of my daughter's passing...I still love you with all my heart ❤❤❤

Thursday 18 June 2020


Motionless he waits at the forest's edge
beside the stream from sacred spring
just before sundown, that threshold time
when owls and nighthawks take to the wing.

He's dressed in feathers and tattered robes
held together with bindweed twine,
and a skull-crowned staff is his constant companion
that's been with him since the beginning of time.

In his blue eyes there's a kind of madness
that tells of years spent in isolation
and contemplation of the meaning of life,
in the severity of wildwood habitation.

The impressionable mind could be forgiven
for mistaking him for a woodland shade,
for his appearance is uncommon and Otherworldly
as he flits like a deer between thicket and glade.

Now emerging from a tree to deliver his prophesy:
a torrent of utterances in archaic tongue
that tells of the doctrines Christianity ousted
and the slaughtered Druids, their accomplishments unsung.

The old ways are lost now, he mournfully laments,
are replaced by technology's virtual living.
Oh what a disaster - I see it coming -
mankind's undoing through lack of thanksgiving.

The planet that sustains you must be respected,
sincere atonement is the only way.
You cannot continue just taking, taking,
or she, herself, will implode one dark day.

And I feel his warning in the fibre of my being:
in blood cell friction, Ancestral recall,
where I'm spirited back to the age before light,
to Arthur's Camelot where I'm caught up in thrall.

The Once and Future King he's tutored
in all things chivalrous and in justice true.
So why can't WE reflect this today?
I can't help thinking our reasoning's askew.

"Oh why won't you return, Lord Merlin," I plead,
"And remind us of all we've so carelessly forgotten -
like how to selflessly love and forgive,
and so heal a society that's become so rotten?"

I never left, the Archdruid replies,
It's just those cannot see me who are spiritually blind.
I dwell in the oak trees and I speak through the wind,
if you'd find me, then leave preconceptions behind.

You and the land have always been one,
but materialism has fractured your souls.
The macrocosm is still mirrored within you,
but your selfishness has filled it with myriad black holes.

Now returning to my century I clearly see
that moment in time when we planted the seed
that has grown and grown like a morbid tumour:
each soul incarnate debased by greed.

So I've made the decision to step aside
from the insanity that possesses mankind today.
I am a Druidess, my vocation is my work
with Merlin to keep annihilation at bay.

Wednesday 10 June 2020


Dedicated to Cindi, and all those who suffer in the shadows...with deepest compassion.

If the sun was a man, he could be your kinder twin.
Both of you possess the power to caress
with your warmth - or to incinerate with impunity.
Both of you dazzle. But his warmth
lifts my spirits, whereas yours masks an appalling ferocity.

Your first kiss branded my soul. But then your possessiveness
imprisoned me in a merry-go-round of degradation.
There is no escaping a serial abuser
once he has groomed his chosen victim.
Oh why can I not stop loving you?

I'm aware that the sun, too, can sometimes scorch,
but at nighttime he is powerless - unlike your kind of torture.
That cremates me with relentless continuity.
Day and night I am mentally and physically broken.
Sometimes, even death would be a welcome release.

Nowhere is safe from your sadistic corona. It's searing strands
would find me on the far side of the Universe,
like the grotesque telescopic tentacles
of some fiery alien Medusa.
I am burning...burning...eternally burning

in your brutal, terror-ridden hell...

Thursday 4 June 2020


For more than a year now I've passed him in the street,
in every season, in all weathers:
sun, rain, hail, snow, gales, thunder.
By now I'm familiar with his entire wardrobe:
the smart city suit, the long black raincoat
with it's wide lapels and matching umbrella,
the indigo denims with slashed knees, his
lime green jogging suit. I often think of him
and the way his long dark curls
fall about his shoulders. And I long to know more.
His neighbour says he's only seldomly home, but when he sees her
he blows her a kiss. Oh if only that were me
I'd be ecstatic - just to be acknowledged by him!
Oh you sad fool - do you really think he'd notice you??
With the day off one Wednesday
I followed him (at a safe distance) to the park.
He was walking his Afghan Hound. My heart was racing.
I desperately wanted to go over and speak to him...

I am such an introvert. How do you approach
a man like him? God knows! But I long to, SO much.
Occasionally - and this is the cringeworthy bit -
I actually follow him home!
He almost caught me once, loitering
just inside his garden gate, behind a holly bush.
I had to hold my breath as he passed by,
so close I could smell his aftershave.
That fragrance has haunted me ever since,
evoking such exquisitely compelling fantasies!
Perhaps one day I'll find the courage to actually speak to him.
How I'd love to see him glance in my direction, to smile at me.
I frequently see an image of him in the fog.
But then it vanishes - deep longing's delusion, I guess.
Wind-driven mist can play peculiar tricks on the overimaginative mind!

Too often, I am compelled to walk that street.
Sometimes, I wish I were beautiful. But I'm not.
Other times, I wish he had a penchant for plainness...

Recollections of a seventeen-year-old me!! 😉😉