Monday, 25 May 2015

Poems//The Autumn Queen//

The Autumn Queen

A crown of gourds and acorns
As orange as pumpkin juice.
I uncurl and trace my fingers
Through bark carved curlicues. 
Acorn cups to hold my blood 
I raise a glass and drink to you.
Bark free initials that will leave
An indented sign or two.
Curled so tight I bend in ways
My heart won't recover.
White limbs like forced narcissus
My pale nakedness received forever. 
Seed head bones click clack
In the space between my ears.
I roll and turn in leaf mulch
Black as tar my frigid fears. 
Droplet sparkles of summer rain 
Stowed inside green tonic wine glass.
I drip the diamonds on my finger tips
I tell the spiders 'this pain will pass'.
Mallow orbs of snowberries
Make me shiver and ache.
Their stringent woody taste  
Quiets the fretting for everyone's sake.

{This is the first of a series of seven linked poems called The Forest Book. I think I will publish them altogether in the next few days. They focus on my interest in forests, in gender and in power.}

{Image from Pinterest}

Tuesday, 5 May 2015

Some Things

I've been spending time in my head with all the things going on. In other words the winter brain fog where I let my mind run around and around in concentric circles. Despite this my sporadic productivity has still managed to produce a set of 8 poems I am 'tears in eyes' proud off. I have spent hours listening to that misanthrope Josh Tillman. I've concluded he must see in my head or we are cut from the same bit of dishevelled black velvet. I am still wayward and difficult, which are not necessarily the bad things they can be. 

I have been thankful for the fact that it's all still holding together. It is in part that I can see the beauty wherever I turn. It's like a magic trick I keep thinking I will lose the power to conjure up - this ability to see and to find value in everyday life. There are a million threads of narrative in one turn of the head, a vast world with a spin and a click of your heels. And I do 'feel it all' and sometimes it hurts but sometimes it helps.

Sunday, 8 March 2015

Things keep going

It's good to smile, and it is good to see shafts of sunlight on the greenest moss in the woods. So often I see things in nature that I can hardly believe are accidental. Every day there is so much beauty. 

'Sometimes if you look you see'. 

Sunday, 22 February 2015


That is what love looks like. That's my childrens uncle, my brother in law, and my two love him to pieces. And for years I have tried to rise above and ignore the vindictive words and actions directed at me and my little family from another, but I am now fighting back with love and kindness because that is the only way. It's not a story for here, or for public over sharing but how we respond to adversity and those that try to hurt and wound us is worth sharing. You keep on going and you keep the love at the fore front. So for anyone also going through hard times, who is hurting, aggrieved and wounded please keep on going. Nothing is made worse by forgiveness and love, of that I am absolutely sure. 

Sunday, 18 January 2015


There is something intrinsic to a certain type of spiritual, naturalistic poetry that makes it touch so many people. And I am pretty certain that it is the same thing I find myself in the woods, and I can best describe it as the beautiful impermanence of nature. I can look at a patch of ivy covered in snow and it comforts me so much to know that at some point tomorrow that crackling white mantle will drip, drip away and the ivy leaves will dry and shine again in the winter sun. 

No matter how overwhelming life is there is always something in the green that springs from the earth that brings me back to a balanced perspective. 

Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
Are moving across the landscapes,
Over the prairies and the deep trees,
The mountains and the rivers. 

{Mary Oliver 'Wild Geese'}

Sunday, 14 December 2014

Seed Heads

Seed heads in their dessicated, skeletal beauty. There is something fey and otherworldly about their silent winter appearance. Today they swayed gently in the icy wind, my hand steadying them for a capture. If you teach yourself to stop and look, there is always something, even in the depths of winter within the hedgerows showing you it's simple charm. 

Monday, 8 December 2014

Where we are

It has been quiet on this blog for a while now. This year I changed jobs, a huge change for the better, and I have nearly finished the first module in a creative writing degree. The writing here on this blog started the move towards story writing for me. The writing here has been so valuable in developing me as a writer, and in me making writing a bigger part of my life. 

I've been thinking a lot recently about what makes us happy, what keeps us afloat and without a doubt for me it is making sure I do a range of things that add up to a whole, balanced individual self. I'm sure you get a sense of those things from my posts- they are varied and multiple. Some are robust and healthy like regular walks in the wood and others are off track and fragile as spider's webs. They are like a web, a complex knit together of activities, actions and things that when balanced make a little seam of happy. I'm sort of quite proud of that, that I have begun to realise I can take control of my life. And at the same time I'm desperately sad for those who through illness, sadness and pain remain without these feelings of hope. 

Writing plays a huge part in this for me. There is nothing like the small ripples in my brain when a person or a story or a feeling comes together on the page. I've always had this and I've always written, but the course has directed me to actually persevere and I can now write stories, proper stories with real people in them, with a beginning and a middle and an end. They also aren't all heartbreaking, some of them are actually quite hopeful and dare I say redemptive. 

If I am brave enough I will post one soon.