Nos Liberavit

Bell-like, round and clear Hopeful and transparent as a copper bauble, it lifts the congregation. From the sanctuary the maiden’s voice soars and plunges as she elongates the siren call.   — I am not a groupie. I’d rather spend my days in a hermit’s hut on a mountainside with books, green tea and yoga

I was born of poetry

For World Poetry Day last year I wrote out the fanciful myth I have constructed about how poetry precipitated my birth.

I learnt

I learnt not to throw a tennis ball indoors. That’s how you shatter a ginger jar. I also learnt one should not break a violin bow. Did I snap it or cause the hairs to explode? If your nose is running, and your mother is pinning your ballet costume don’t move. If she pins you,

For the occasion of World Poetry Day, 2013

I was born of poetry on the underside where grey makes writing easier the printed side: too glossy. — I once read that those who buy poetry tend to be middle class, university educated women “of a certain age” (by this, the article implied over 50). Yet whenever I’ve been in Foyle’s on Charing Cross