Childfree

My bloodline ended with me.
Not that it really mattered
that no future grandchild
found my photo unlabelled
in a plastic bag and wondered
whether my smile was real
and what life was like in colour.

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Heron help me

My art mojo is unbearably unpredictable. I have not yet learned how to overcome the frequent and prolonged dips in motivation that I experience and I think it is because I haven’t found the way in which I want to express myself artistically, at least for now. So, when I am in the mood, I […]

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Hiatus

Our anti-climax
covid Christmas
is over

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Unnatural Selection

I am the turning point,
the creature who would
not survive

for all my teeth, such as they are
overcrowded, criss-crossed
and speaking of my weaknesses

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Conyer Brickworks

A poem about an old brickworks, reclaimed by nature, but now threatened with a development of luxury homes.

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Parental advisory

This poem is about how the ways we are loved and protected in childhood can influence how we live our lives. Includes a recording of the poem.

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Hollowshore

A poem I wrote after time sat at the point where the incoming Swale divides into Oare Creek and Faversham Creek. A contemplation of the limbo we are in, as we await a vaccine.

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Why follow the heron?

You may be wondering, why follow the heron, when most of the time he stands still?
It is in those very times of stillness when we create magic. When poems are born, when the pencil etches an intoxicating line on a page, when we come home to ourselves.

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