With

With is not a wordto end a sentence,or so they taught usat school. With is not correctwhen it is usedcome withwent withcame withwas with,this withering wordthat withoutcannot exist.Let’s go withwithin, wherewithal,forthwith, notwithstanding. —‘Creative writing rules’ from my school days still to echo in my head. The teachers’ warnings against starting a sentence with ‘and’ or

104 Poems

The 2×52 project developed in April 2013 when I committed to posting two poems a week for a year. I completed my self-made creative challenge this April when I revealed the 104th poem. Next month (June 2014), all the poems will be available in a book at my Blurb bookstore. In the meantime, here are the 104=2×52 poems listed in all their glory! And for your convenience, so

Rooftop Thoughts

From this time last year: an essay about a painting of Covent Garden rooftops. The image triggered a series of personal memories about school art history lessons and my ‘London Granny’.

London. Is it worth it?

A climb up Kili Only it’s Archway Hill. Destination: Highgate King prawns in chilli butter at Café Rouge – — At the end of last year I was searching for this poem amongst my papers. Although distressed at the loss of the original gem (Where is it? I kept asking on Twitter.), I attempted an

I do. Do you?

Remember how your grandfather stumbled and then fell into the garden pond. You wore a suit, freshly pressed – a strange look from your usual garb of sweat and day creased shirts. I in a satin dress of peacock colours, never wanted to be conventional, but my bouquet was of white arums from the garden.

Genuine

When it is from deep inside and through my eyes, that crinkled nose – my truest smile. — For some time I was a regular attendee of a writing group. I often presented very short poems (some of which were to feature in ‘Shining in Brightness‘, my first volume and others which are earmarked for

From a Stone

I have small veins that have been drawn in sinks of scalding water and vigorous smacking. Stopped at the upper arm and with a pumping fist, the supply is best tapped by the finest needle. It is sometimes easier to siphon off blood on Tuesdays for doctors’ records than write poems twice a week. —

Half-a-dozen, a wildcard plus one

A few recent poems have orbited around summer. 29°C captures some moments from the July heatwave. Another Summer’s Day explores more delights of the warmer season. Summer food and outdoor eating, which we enjoy at such times with childlike relish, are enacted by the child characters who feature in Packed Lunches and Summermelon. Tightly Sealed and Look At draw on observations of ordinary

An arrangement of strangers

The ants in his pants found a dark crack and bit at the edges until at night the worms came out and about looking for food and found ants, from his pants, for company. Together the roundworms and the man-eating ants enjoyed their pantaloni party. — There we go: an offering from my notebooks that

Rooftop Thoughts

The Gullies (Covent Garden, London) I have a personal Thursday pleasure and it is to choose my PCF picture of the week over a strong black coffee. The ten I have chosen to date are a visual log of the last two months of my London journey. “The Gullies (Covent Garden, London)” is my picture