Normally people take stock of the old year in January, me, I wait until the middle of February, and I’m not even going to beat myself up about it. I had other things to deal with, and if it took me an extra six weeks to get things straightened up, then it took an extra six weeks.Continue reading “Short Story Finalist And A Poetry Submissions Blitz”
If you look under the ‘poetry’ tag on the WordPress reader, you’ll find more posts than you can shake a stick at. (Or read in a lifetime if I’m honest.) A lot of it is personal poetry, and if you start reading through it, a lot of it uses the same sort of language and the same sort of imagery.Continue reading “Poetry Inspiration – Ain’t I A Mug”
At the start of this year I was planning on which poetry events I wanted to go to in order to publicise my new collection ‘It’s All In The Blood‘. I managed a few local ones, and had a slot booked to perform at a Ludlow poetry night, right at the beginning of March. Then 2020 hit its stride in the UK.Continue reading “Trickle Down – Working On Writing During Lock-down”
She brings it in with her,
clung to the tip of her nose
and through her hair
so it’s blacker than night.
Strips out of her waterproofs
till she has shape.
risen high in her cheeks,
on the knuckles of her hands.
Reveals the desperation of it,
zips and openings.
Slid a caress down her neck
till she bears a collar of its touch.
Trails it deeper into the kitchen,
a song to sodden socked feet,
printing a vanishing trail
across the tiles.
Tescos ran out of loo rolls and soapboxes.
Stay-at-home politicians with keyboards and opinions
screeching their how-to, quick-fix slogans.
Have you not been told?
Fake it till you make it means everyone’s an expert.
No one wants to say,
we’re all just fucking lost.
I’ll just slink back off to my grump little hobbit hole. Rant over in just forty-four words.