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Window twitcher

June 29, 2017

The rain flocks like
Roosting birds
Pushed on by the wind
And gathering night


Summer short

June 28, 2017

The summer
Reflections; music rustling the water
The wind, rippling hair and softening
Lips so the words can flow
Without utterance, sending
Morse-code from one
Warm soul to another.




The totality/brutality of pain

June 28, 2017

Some people describe
Pain like knives
Like stabbing
But for me that’s too
External, too

To me, it feels like my body
In active uprising
Burning the settlements of my
Carcass, and feasting on my
Discomfort. It’s all me.
But separate, but internal,
But something I cannot see
Or push away

Everyday I’m in a war
With the parts of myself
That have been under such
Stress, they can’t function
Some days, I wonder if my mind
And my back are in
Cahoots, because somehow
It’s more acceptable for
The body to give way
Than the mind. We expect it
Our biggest fear, what we feel
And see in ourselves and others
Decay, waste, limbs less
Powerful, muscles less strong.
But my mind is a muscle
And sometimes it’s knackered
Beyond belief
Beyond comfort.

So maybe my body isn’t in full
Revolt. Maybe it’s trying to show
Me what I need.
To give in, to breathe, to start slow
And go gently.IMG_20170624_202029.jpg

Bubble and froth

December 26, 2016

My love never left

My lungs, to bubble into

It was there
All along
The words
To bring the feeling
Into being
Not just a concept
But tangible
Not just a fiction (friction)
But a real person
Not just a thought
But a bone-deep longing
To pat you down
To drum into you
The morse code
Of my affection


I held back
I knew
I pushed
I knew
I tried to hide
I knew
I cried, but remained alone
I knew

I knew you;
You were like the sea
All around
But ultimately inhospitable
To a sky-breather like me –
In turns warm and all-consuming
Next dark and unchartered
Compressing my chest.
Crushing me.

My love never leaving
My lungs, never finding
The will to bubble into


Poems on Brexit Day

December 26, 2016

My poem ‘The Sight’ was included in this collection, put together a few days after the referendum on the UK’s EU membership:


The only criteria for inclusion was that the poem was written around the time of the referendum, but not necessarily taking it as the subject matter.

Here’s to more published work in 2017, I hope.


December 26, 2016

Night time brings
The dark but often clarity
No light but often sharper
As the body lays
And thoughts are given space
To form into shapes that
Make sense
That morph and digress
Shout loud across
My silent chest
The words, bouncing from slumbering walls
The sensation of falling
As the mind, not so much whirring as searching
For the foot of another
Across the bed
To find solid the form
To make alive
What is in my head.tmp_30494-IMG_20161225_175205519105417.jpg

Not all things

December 26, 2016

Are we only allowed to mourn what has breathed?

What about those things which grow inside
But never see the breeze
To inflate the love
That’s held within?

Sometimes life
Doesn’t have a chance
To cry and stretch
Sometimes, before the wail
Of celebration, comes a mourning
But we do not speak
We stand, silent, observing
Pretending the swelling
Of promise had not been
And like a sweet, too large to swallow
We gulp, we drink
And at last the memory is dislodged
And we slowly edge away
Eyes diverted, hearts shrouded without words to express, what was meant but has not been.

How can we find the forms
To show they were.
To mark a passing.
To hold the sadness
Like a candle, inconsistent light
But constant flicker?
A passing sight, a feeling
Is still real; how can we celebrate
A resonance fading but resonating still?