Does the globe tilt on its axis when mothers weep? Is that the sound of artillery I hear or hearts breaking? How does the world go on when a man flips the switch of his humanity and his own generals dare not speak truth to power? We look for snippets of news Moved by the… Read More Defiance Blossoms
Happy International Women’s Day to you and to all the wonderful women in our lives: the ones who we learn from, dance with, who stand by us every day, whom we admire from afar and whose shoulders we cry on. This is a poem I wrote for IWD21. Word of warning about the profanity in it…… Read More Sticks and Stones: A New Poem for International Women’s Day 2021
It’s the start of a new year. We leave behind a year that many of us won’t miss, a year which seemed relentless with global news and human meanness. I realise now, there is a limit to our control. We can stand up for our beliefs, we can make art, and treat others with kindness… Read More In 2019, Just Be
Sadness comes the cresting of a wave on a quiet beach catching us unawares like the sting of a wasp on tender flesh Sadness finds us between rumpled sheets though we smooth them out a creeping vine with the stealth of a summer wind chilling to frost Sadness slips into the crevices of … Read More Tender Flesh
I worry for my boys, and yours in a world of knives and guns and groups of boys pretending to be men Once they might have played on the swings, or watched the stars Instead they plot to win wars on streets yards from their homes All the while groups of men also play at… Read More Future-Less
‘Has the world always been broken?’ asked the girl, eyes laden with sorrow Her grandfather knotted his fingers together, paper-thin skin over cobweb veins and considered which truth to convey Should he comfort her as he longed to do, until her heart had no knowledge of hate or unfold to her the wisdoms he had… Read More Broken World, A Poem for My Daughter
I lie in the concrete box of my bedroom inside the mausoleum of my childhood house with no means of escape My body is as heavy as a corpse my gaze is mostly fixed, still I hear the mocking flick of leaves on the asphalt outside You come to visit with frozen smiles I must… Read More Through My Eyes
My stomach swells from beneath the swirl of bathwater I sink until every inch of me is pressed to the white enamel internalising hearing the drum of my heartbeat eyelids closed, imagining multiplying cells and spirit the newly forming life inside the walls of my red womb I already love you more than myself, this… Read More Tiny You
A thousands suns can’t melt the ivy veneer of your heart No child’s smile can chase the shadows from the caves of your mind You dive into wells of loneliness swim amongst sewer rats convinced it’s where you belong your body a mummified corpse, sinking Come, let my words gush over you, seal the holes… Read More You will Soar
I lie against the pillows in the half-light listening to bricks shifting mortar crumbling in our silent home because you have flown far away, briefcase in hand Often the world grows dark All I see are angry men and despairing mothers, fields of upside down flowers, skies of shredded crimson, a march to our graves… Read More Crumbled Stones and Hammocks of Sky
This week I’ve been thinking about motifs in literature: recurrent images, symbols or ideas an author employs to paint a picture in the reader’s mind. Motifs are woven through the books we read, used by authors to add depth and convey meaning. They might be colours (red for passion or victimhood, for example), the elements… Read More Motifs in Literature, and a Poem: The Hell Hound at the Tree of Life
A relief to walk alone after the press of company the demand for painted faces and strained smiles We wander deep in mud wordless through the oaks reels of our togetherness playing in fractured minds I remember Road trips to escape the rest when we were enough the breeze playing with your hair your hand… Read More An Island of Us
The coolest girl in school had secret trysts behind the bike shed, drank wine from a water bottle at mass, hitched up her skirt to show her knobbly knees, shaved her hair into a mohawk and wore an insolent stare Other girls lamented over cracked lips and frizzy hair but the coolest girl in school… Read More The Coolest Girl in School
I’ve been thinking recently about how responsibilities grow with age. Freedom too, in many ways. When I was younger happiness came readily, bubbling and buoyant, easily read from the smiles on my face. That happiness is no longer a constant effervescent source. It has eased instead into a contentment I have to work at. It’s… Read More Finding Balance: Light and Dark
Who does not feel small in a universe basked in starlight? Like faithless pilgrims we trudge the road alone We turn towards the shrill ensnared by the quest for riches and popularity Forgetting serenity is the pauses between breaths Progressless march halted at our last breath or before – as luck would have it Divine… Read More Rock of Your Own
Soft rains fell upon the lagoon from a night sky shrouded in clouds The nymph perched on the gently sloping bank trailing her fingers through wiry reeds She dipped a toe in still waters a cleansing ritual in the witching hour Her hair fell in lank strands down her bare back A sapphire at her… Read More Witching Hour
Her fingers glide over the swell of belly once there She remembers A morning long ago when he first cried, ejected from her womb The weight of him in the crook of her arm Cocooning, disquieting love She remembers Soft fingers at her waist The imprint of teeth on tender flesh The future bloomed through… Read More She Remembers
A gauze falls between her and the world Anchorless girl senses unreliable irises unseeing Her epidermis an armoured hedgehog which spurns touch The tide takes her sanity until she no longer knows who she is Everything becomes a performance The ticking of time a judge’s gavel Her make-up sits thick upon her skin like a… Read More A Girl Remade
She loved with a passion that requires courage, her heart a tiny bird in her chest Not for her the robotic focus of suited men and painted wives Or the false gods of screens and cables, the trappings of human endeavour Instead, she ran barefoot through fields and slept unafraid under the stars She read… Read More She Slept Unafraid
Come into my laboratory where I toil over a bunsen burner, pearled beads of sweat on my forehead You’ll find me in a white coat and goggles the Mary Shelley of my time venturing into the dark when all is lost I hover at the abyss: a witch, a mad scientist, a soul doctor risking… Read More The Vial