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Faulty
Part of a verse novel about scoliosis
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The Edge of Christmas—a Christmas Story
What if it was the last ever Christmas?
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Daniel’s Deal
Let’s be clear: I wanted that part as I’d never wanted anything in my life. But I don’t know why. Maybe it was because Mr Gabriel always chose Michael for church services, or maybe it’s because I wasn’t one of the choir because mum put me in for extra maths on Tuesdays, or maybe because…
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I did and I didn’t
I did my work at school today and didn’t stop to run or play I did the work as I was told and didn’t once act rude or bold I did my writing, nice and neat and didn’t leave it incomplete I did my maths then queued for lunch and didn’t shove or even punch…
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A New Sky — a National Poetry Day workshop
Try this poetry workshop and create a new sky National Poetry Day on October 4, 2018, is all about CHANGE and what bigger change can you imagine than creating a whole new sky? I find quite a lot of my poetry by looking up at the sky. My first book of poetry, Astro Poetica, is full…
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Colour Poems — a workshop for poets
Write your own colour poems! Writing colour poems can be fun. Be inspired by a painting or a walk and write something to brighten your day. Imagine being the owner of a market stall which sold colour. Scooped straight from the heart of a rainbow and wrapped in a cloud, your customers want the very…
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Rain
… …. … …. … ……. . . . … . .. …… we …. ….. dash ….. .be. .tween. . . .. …. . …. … .. . … … . ..each … . …cry.. .s. . tal… . … .. . . . . . ….. . …. . …. . … .…
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The Senses
Smell a rainbow Touch a sound Lose yourself In what is found. Hear a scent Then let your eyes Open wide At each surprise. Taste a feeling See a song Your sense of wonder’s Never wrong. —
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How Rivers Work
Raise one hand high spread your fingers in a grasp of clouds and let the sky drain its blue mood through you then accept the wash of rain until it fills the reservoir of your chest and measures the brim of all you can bear then stretch out your other arm to that person beside…
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Mud Poem
Stick-sucker Stone-slider Shoe-swallower. You are the unfixed path on the road home whose clammy hands clap my every step. You are the unfinished map written by other travellers whose footprints name each new island. You are the Earth’s glue keeping a collage of journeys in a scrapbook of decisions pressed beneath the sky. Rain-sponge Light-denier…