On the secret beach

When we’re not thereOr if we arethe wavesdraw up resolve To putter out on shore. Great energy, momentumDissolves in frothy white.The rest draws backto charge on blue To roll a course infinite. — After two years of serious COVID-anxiety, I flew to Mauritius. In the two weeks there I planned to write, read and exercise.

Gone are the cars

A short story, written in one sitting this afternoon (and I confess, not yet thoroughly proofed). This post is offered in the spirit of completion energy and is inspired by my current read, Jurgen Wolff’s “Your Creative Writing Masterclass” (Nicholas Brealey, 2012). The poem weaves together last night’s dream, some thoughts spurred by Earth Day and

Knowledge

To feel waves must crash if they thirst for the shore; they must trip stones smooth, burst jagged hands, pierce the stretch strain of speckled beanskins learning the ground. The walker must trip. 2003, after Las Vegas, Death Valley and Flagstaff, USA — “Knowledge” appears in Shining in Brightness (2013), my first book of poetry.

Christmas glee

Christmas is less than a month away. There’s still time to order a book of BeadedQuill’s poetry for someone special. Even non-poetry readers love the short and pithy ‘sushi‘ verses. There is a choice of three titles: The most recent publication, In the Ocean: a year of poetry offers a bumper 104 poems. Over 52

scrumpled dashes dots and lines

  A number of poems have come to me during London commutes. “Every morning because it’s wonderful to watch” originated on the platform at East Finchley station. When I find myself waiting for a train to arrive, I still sometimes think about the poem between the tracks. Other tube poems include Trapped items Tube Sketch

The bees credit it as some point of luxury to be on the Tube

I have written a number of poems inspired by London commuting, including this surreal scene posted last year. Here are some others: On the Way to Westminster (a personal favourite) Trapped Items Tunnel Days Tube Sketch

Tall ship

Tall ship Ready your largest sail. Today promises high winds! The snow blew in. The black waves froze darting shoals. We’ve come to the end of our time. — I’m in the mood for sailing seas. The forthcoming Tall Ships Festival at Greenwich strikes part of me as something interesting. Today it’s been a drizzly bank

The Faint Smell of Jasmine

A short story from some time ago: It is a long climb up the stony mountain, through biting mists and pounding midday sun. From the crevices mountain flowers cheer the weary and tumbling water droplets happily refresh those travellers who whisper of their thirst. The higher the climb, the more the climber’s bones and muscles

From an irate customer

I was not a lawn-mower customer. I was trying to book travel. Out of the annoying interaction resulted the poem “I don’t work for you (or Modern Frustrations)“. This poem is one of 104 in my latest book, In the Ocean: a year of poetry.  

The killer whale that hit sharp at Leicester Square

It’s a little uncanny that my current writing and the archive posts are showing parallel topics. Last week the new poem inspired by music echoed the archive poem written during a jazz concert (six years ago!). This week, quite by coincidence, it’s work generated on London’s Underground. From this time last year, the archive yields another tube poem. “On the Way to