Jul 1Member-onlyThalassophobiathe blue abyss — I can barely get my tongue around this word — it makes me splutter. Alas, I’ve always suffered from the shallow end of this complex, ever since I clung to a tombstone float at the old swimming baths, that aquatic morgue where I laboured for the sake of ten yards — water-logged, rubber bathing cap chafing my chin, breathing…Poetry1 min read
Jun 17Member-onlyOut of ReachThey put everything I want on the high shelf…grrr — There are occasions when you’ll find me in the aisle of despair at the supermarket. I need to reach a certain item on the top shelf, but no amount of ballerina-inspired tiptoe will afford me the few inches I need to grasp the desired item. In my local Tesco, this…Humour5 min read
Jun 13Member-onlyThe Grey Ladya ghostly history — The haunted manor is closed on Mondays, its powdered visage obscured by florid veins of virginia creeper. Ornamental urns, mossy and frost-cracked, stand either side of the uneven stone steps. The elegant sash windows are closed to the world — yet shuttered inside, something is astir in the south-facing dining…Ghosts4 min read
Jun 10Member-onlyIn the Playing Fielda poem — Poetry1 min readAndreas Kretschmer/UnsplashIn the Playing Fielda poem----2
May 20Member-onlyChard Lucka meditation — The high maintenance of perpetual spinach writ large. Glossy magenta veins stand out from phthalo, viridian, sap. Intricate folds powdered with dirt of ages require constant re-examination. Unfurling of philosophical frown impossible to smooth over. Stalks are quite ridiculous — when rinsed under the tap, cathedral gutters soak to elbows. …Poetry1 min read
Published in Morning Musings Magazine·May 9Member-onlyThe Blue Kitchena poem — The blue of afternoon shadows the white, a glimpse of early spring sketched inside each window pane. The back door is left open, but the air is still, and I’m poised forever on the threshold, looking at the spokes of the old chair back, recalling the rustic dresser it used to match, those dark scalloped shelves lined with mysteries — a bible…Poetry1 min read
May 5Member-onlyRingera dystopian exercise — Hold the bell aloft, as high as you can, until the doleful siren to decays to static. You are the raindrops that zigzag down. This is your red-eye awakening wired into the void —a pitiless soundbow etched with melancholy. Check the crib notes of this vaguely dystopian concept strung between…Art3 min read
Published in The Lark·Apr 11Member-onlyThe Tea Room at Black RockPoetry — The tea room stood tall, rendered grey and grim-faced, sash windows staring out to sea, perched on a cliff edge, a gull for the eye, yet there was no sheer drop to the rockpools beneath, just a serpentine slope of treacherous chalk, scaled by algae. Once a coastguard’s outpost, then an…Myths2 min read
Apr 8Member-onlyEgret Whitea poem — A rare plume, plucked by the last Tsarevitch from something wild, endangered, is the chosen colour in which to live. A theme to go neutral with, beyond influence — a cold response concealing warm tones, blank as a piece of paper held up in protest — or if you prefer, a snow country quiff sanctioned by…Mood1 min read
Published in Morning Musings Magazine·Nov 18, 2021Member-onlyBreadcrumbsa drabble — Flash Fiction1 min readFakurian Design/UnsplashBreadcrumbsa drabble----2
