It grows ever darker: autumn evenings

During the first months of posting on my blog in 2012, I opened this short piece with a reminiscence about the red creepers that draped my undergraduate university during autumn. I went on to comment on the dark evenings that enclose this season in the Northern hemisphere — I tweet much more when I’m inContinue reading “It grows ever darker: autumn evenings”

Exalted thus, we left

An old favourite revisited, because artists are allowed to have their obsessions. “Exalted thus, we left” is a reworking of a poem from 2011: I love the Dorothea Tanning painting that spurred the original “Jacob’s Dream for crinolined girls”. When I’m in Tate Modern, I’ll usually try to pop into the Surrealism gallery to gazeContinue reading “Exalted thus, we left”

Salad with mackerel

tonight I’m gonna feed myself right from a bag with apples and the thrill of eager walnuttes that press the beetroot neat sliced nice over rocket-watercress-spinach leaves stalks ‘n all spring-water washed — Eating right is important for an artist. Even Ella Fitzegerald and Louis Armstrong advocate this in ‘Frim Fram Sauce’. In truth, though,Continue reading “Salad with mackerel”

To kiss a little human huckleberry

My poem ‘Huckleberry Thing‘ is such a crowd favourite that it gives me great pleasure to have an excuse to share it yet again with you, my readers. It is one of the twenty poems in my first book, Shining in Brightness: Selected Poems, 1999 – 2012. — The illustration image was donated by PearsonContinue reading “To kiss a little human huckleberry”

A short poem from the wood

They are tall and have green eye-lids. See how they blink at the sun. trees — Being amongst trees makes my soul so happy. There are a number of woods where I live in London and I consider it my commute to work to walk through them when I have time set aside for writing.Continue reading “A short poem from the wood”

St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

Cold fingers, the volunteer gardeners rake leaves from the flowerbeds that circle tree-trunks. A last green and white hydrangea stares its bath-cap head at me. Cars hoot near Bedford St. There’s a helicopter overhead. Leaves and Tesco receipts blow across the square paving-stones. It’s 1 minute to 10. A cold breeze catches the morning. —Continue reading “St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden”