Poetry (words)


Mist cloaked mornings cling to my bones, I yawn and stretch I shake it off. The light loiters here, half hidden amongst the woods as if thought up by the imagination. Ghosts of iridescent charms. 

Blankets of lichen cover stump and stone like limpets of dry land living, breathing complexities of union and survival. As a child I would peel them and stick them to books, as an adult I observe their wonder. 

Midwinter when the past is still so obvious in the forest, where toppled giants rest against their kin. How humanity’s impact is ever present from the ancient souls who understood to those who trample through greed and ignorance. 

Spring will return here, sunlight will dance in these branches and the warmest breeze will dry this sodden ground. Humanity may reign supreme in war and commodities, but nature comes in peace. 

Poetry (words)

“Running before the wind”

Greet the dawn on the coldest morning and feel the frost underfoot. See the distance flow into view like a watercolour wash of haze filled hues. She dances here, she weaves life onto pages. 

“Running before the wind” she fills eyes with wonder…of footprints so deep they could lead you home. Moonlight rises in these skies and spills over fields like a spell cast to guide. 

Grace wanders at our side, it asks nothing more of us than to see it. 

Poetry (words)


We stood, drawn by the tide on darkest coves lit only by starlight. Words made up of exhilarating breathlessness as I watched you move so graceful on the water. Your second skin tourniquet tight a gift for the ocean and the eyes. 

I pause the chapters in my fingertips when you speak my name. Aware of my story you move unhindered still and I feel the harsh corners fade in this liquid caress.

You exposed your heart and I felt the heat of summer in my veins again on the coldest winters night. In the embers on the sand I caught a glimpse of life as the sparks took flight. 

Poetry (words)


The spaces in between that appeared without effort like cracks in the soil on the driest summers day. All the faith that I had placed only left me wanting……

I waited in shadows you created, half breathing half drowning. I swallowed and gasped in the silence, but it passed. I returned the borrowed aqualung to your closet and closed the door. 

I’m over that threshold of belief that this was anything more than a well rehearsed part you played. Act one outlived and surpassed the curtain call, but I’m not applauding for an encore anymore. 

I’ve dug up those foundations.

Poetry (words)

Stepping aside. 

Sat at the station seeing the people all watching their screens, bland faces, blank minds all giving in. It dawned on me how bored I am. With this and that in this stagnating pool on which I’m skimming. 

The chit chat on the platform, nonsensical sentences, tv and catalogues and singing Amazon boxes. I am confident here amongst this, I am aware of obvious failings. 

Everyone’s screaming ‘look at me’ whilst the world just passes them by, so desperate for attention at whatever cost, just as long as they don’t have to try. 

Little by little I’m stepping away from the melee that’s drowning my will. There’s so much more I desire than to just observe while those around me stand still. 

Poetry (words)


“let go” he said and trust in the hands that hold the ropes.

Overwhelmed by the edges of the land where lighthouses rule at dusk. I climbed the walls with a sheer determination to escape. I let go of all the dramas we’d created. On a cliff side they fell from me like boulders into the icy ocean, but the salt that stained my face stung with the numbness of bitter winds and the weight they carry. Just another drop in the engulfing tide. 
Calm comes, in the heat of the blazing fire, like a lovers fingertips alive with hope. As I let this wash over me the knots dissipate and every summit is in sight.