Sky and Soil

flying and fallingthe differencebetweenlooking aheadto open airandan anxious gazeat the ground Note: This was inspired by a bird flying outside my window. I played with different versions of this poem. Initially, there was more structure – firmer sentences, more words, capitalisation, punctuation, but it felt airier stripping that out. I tried to tease out exactly …

Missing mothers

Any student of fairytales will tell youAlmost nothing is as essential asA missing mother. The journeys and adventures belongTo the orphaned and abandoned;Not to those tucked safely in bed,Left with a warm kiss on their brow. For the longest time I thoughtThis must be a plot imperative.Of course there must be an absenceTo trigger the …

Questions

We commiserate so oftenAbout all the questionsOur children askThe constant chorusOf WHY, WHY, WHY? But maybe we shouldThink more about theQuestions they don’t ask. The things they knowAlready are too secretOr too shamefulTo be spoken aloud, The places they pick upOn our uneasy shifting,The averted gaze,The quick distraction; Or worse – the pregnant Pause before …

Rosebud

Yes, I see you thereBack arched withLuxurious graceYour thick and feralTail swaying likeA hypnotist’s trick Leading the eyeExactly to whereYou want it:That perfect littlePink puckeringA delicate terminus I envy your shining furYour effortless athleticismAnd your all-seeing eyesBut most of allThat parading bottomOn proud display I hold my milk-stainedChild in my armsAnd think the sacrificeWas worth …

These Hands

For Lia These hands have held babies,Soothed fevered brows,Held tightly to others in excitementAnd in love. These hands have created beauty,Shaping art from life,Finding the line, the gestureAt the essence. These hands have tied themselvesIn imagined knots,Working over worries and problems –Then releasing them. These hands have crafted feasts,Made a thousand sandwiches,Fed hungry mouths withMore …

14 July 2021

A waterfall of tears.A river of tears.An ocean of tears.Which tributaries must I followTo come to dry land?The water pours, poundsDown in violent sheetsAnd still it is not enoughTo wash awayMy sadness orThis reality.All I see isBlue blue blueAnd the mist risingFrom the water woundWhere each drop lands:A resurrected end. Photo by Stephen Walker on …

Dreams of singing

Isn’t it strangeI keep havingDreams of singing? Or perhaps itIs not strangeAt all. My consciousMind hasForgotten how. But in my dreamsI remember howIt feels. Breath,Sound,Vibration. Is it a memory?More likelyA message. Today I satAt the pianoJust to see. My voice was Quiet butStill there. It survivedAbuse, criticismAnd neglect. Was itBeautiful?Who cares? The pointIs notTo impress. …

Dear pigeons

Based on / a true story I’m sorry I droppedSome wasabi peasDown where you satEagerly under myBench, waiting forWhatever may come. I wanted to tell youIt wasn’t intentional.I can imagine thatWasabi may lead toAvian indigestionAnd beak irritation. Although of courseIf any birds were goingTo enjoy wasabi peasIt would certainly beLondon’s cosmopolitanPigeon population. They just slipped …