Ulterior motives

It was very suspicious the way that whale rolled over and opened its mouth for tips, then set fireworks to the water gods from its blowhole. — Whales have featured in my poetry before. Like sluice gates and bears, whales prefigure as a childhood fascination. In my first or second year of school, we learntContinue reading “Ulterior motives”

That Missing Something

There’s something in the blueberries that my body needs. It might be the blue citric blue in its vitamin skin. It might be the tray of pebbles on a shelf in my ‘fridge. There’s something blue that’s missing from my body. Even a doctor advises that something’s in the berries. blue. — It could beContinue reading “That Missing Something”

Making soup again

These days I refuse to sigh for cooked up futures. Potatoes from a friend and a bag of mixed root veg for £1 assure companionship. This bounty grated, cooked with stock and bay leaves, will be ladled out for half-a-dozen bowls dressed up with haricot beans. The appraising birds perch in the top bare branches,Continue reading “Making soup again”

Comparison

The lock on the bolt hung like a coat flashing its lining of polished gold. The weathered door was envious; Its varnish long sapped by the sun. — New poems have been a little scarce recently because I have been writing about my dating experiences again. I have yet to find the courage, or fictionalisingContinue reading “Comparison”

Painted Mason Jars, Ideal for Table Flowers

For some, the endpoint comes. For those, it expresses as a deed. For some, how to paint a Mason jar. For those, it is possible to attach a stencil with a seasonal theme: there could be a star for Christmas or a pumpkin outline for Halloween. Overhead hums a carrier on the flightpath. For someContinue reading “Painted Mason Jars, Ideal for Table Flowers”

They had slept through storms before

January brought with it a blizzard. Icy darts aimed for our knees and the testing froze our sense of belonging to that land. The old bears sunk deeper in their caves, groaned and turned their backs on winter’s sluice trusting that in time from it would flow all the blooms of spring. 31/12/14 — IContinue reading “They had slept through storms before”

All through this lodging there is hardly a clatter

“A quiet night preludes the festivities” nods to the classic “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.” — Twitter: @BeadedQuill Facebook: BeadedQuill Books: In the Ocean: a year of poetry Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012

The call home

The tides of tomorrow and tomorrow and the next tomorrow sweep into crevices of shored shells. The waves nudge these hollows of yesterday’s habitat into the barrels of tomorrow, tomorrow and the next tomorrow. There the shored shells break with tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow dashed to granules that lip the tideline. Salted foam seepsContinue reading “The call home”

the rains trigger migration of hartebeests in cravats

“To the Valleys” describes the return of hard-working hartebeests who hope to woo brides back in their home village. I wrote this poem last year after “I do. Do you?” another imagined narrative about a wedding that did not come to pass. — Twitter: @BeadedQuill Facebook: BeadedQuill Books available through BeadedQuill’s Blurb Bookshop

When Achilles’ Heart Ripens

Worn on the sleeve or exposed at the heel, once the organ has surfaced it is ready to bleed. Transfusion will occur. — Following on from my experiment earlier this week with clichés, today’s verse explores idioms. It is also influenced by my current read – an engrossing book about ancient Rome and Jerusalem, in whichContinue reading “When Achilles’ Heart Ripens”