Category: Poetry/Fiction

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A Letter To My Teenage Self

If I could write a letter to my teenage self I’d start by saying, you beautiful, sweet girl, you came into the world such a flux of forces, swirling pushing, pulling and you were met with just as much. Everyone is out to shape you, to mould you, to bend to you to their will, still, you are so much more than any of those things. Relax child, relax, enjoy your time at play. You don’t have to have everything worked out. You don’t need a plan for everything, things don’t need to be exactly, precisely perfectly right. The fear of getting that wrong could hold you back from so much so just do it, just do the thing that calls to you. That, that thing that could trip you up, mess you up, fuck you up. Just live, live wild, live passionately, life is a symphony, you just need to pay attention to what matters to you. All the matters is what matters to you.

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Dare to Dream

Allow yourself to dare to dream, there’s more to life than what we see.

Systems are prisons, borders are barriers. Freedom of thought is where you find power.

So take a deep breath and decide what you want. Focus on truth as nothing else counts.

It’s easy to wish for money or a house, the trick is to wish for everyone else.

For a world of kind souls, where war is no more. Where babes get to grow into what life has in store.

Where every soul here, gets to explore and find out their purpose and go on to find more.

To love, to help, to dance to sing, let’s all wish together and call forth this thing.

What we want, what we need, what we all know is true. A beautiful future for me, and for you.

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Just a Song

Swaying blades of grass in a wind of melody punctuated by rhythm. We move. Arms lifted to the heavens. Reaching for power beyond our grasp. Reaching, united by the same song that means different things to us at different times to us, all different but uniting us.

The power of music, the frequency of life binds us in something larger than ourselves. Our shared consciousness transcends physical form for that one song. Just a song.

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I am Grateful

I am grateful for every morning I wake. I open my eyes blessed to have another chance at these precious days nestled in mankind’s slight time since the big bang brought particles into play racing through the endless void of time and space.

I open and close my hands, amazed to inhabit this vessel once more. One that has endured and carried me through heartbreak, self destruction and much loss.

I wiggle my toes. I am thankful for my feet. They have moved me countless miles. Taken me to places I thought I’d never see and danced the night away, true freedom felt as movement.

I thank the water for cleansing my body, the air for cleansing my mind, both for sustaining me. And the beautiful bounty of the earth, the magic of nature, the turning seasons that show us life will be reborn again and again.

The great swash of the ocean. The sunlight blinding. The smell of coffee. Love. Music. Art. Reading. There is so much to be thankful for, before we’ve even started on the day. And the more we notice that and hold that tight, the more joy will come to stay.

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Still

Even in the depths of low
When lights are dim,
When no one’s home,
When all is dark
When all is still
There could be nothing,
nothing at all
until
click
a flame
a match
a start
a small light flickers in the dark
I sit & write
Let words be my guide
to lead me through
this quiet night.

When all is still
I can hear my thoughts
I can reflect
take stock
I can change my course
This time is precious
So I must not waste
Moments spent in stillness
and not in haste.

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Enough

The train wheels click, the carriage rocks in a lulling rhythm, soothing the stress of delays, of running later, of being behind, not on time, behind on bills, on money, in debt. Slowly sinking into my chair I close my eyes and drift away into a long sleep saved for the very tired.

Still, I must wake up, there is too much to do. Much to be done. I don’t just live for me, I have responsibility, mouths to feed that depend on me.

And no matter how deep I sink, I will always return for air, and the faces that await me there. Those beautiful smiles, silly giggles, bath time and cuddles. When we find just one moment in chaos of the day to touch, to rest my hand on yours so briefly. Sitting at the table, pulling faces and playing and forgetting to eat a meal that I’ve thought about all day. What’s the most I can make with the little that we have?

Enough. It will be enough.

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She Sleeps

She sleeps.
Rustling leaves, heaving hills
one eye open.

Breathe.

The great weight of earth spread
furrowed fields ploughed and sown
stretch the veil between here and home.

Seeds will grow and flowers bloom
Tree boughs sag low with glistening fruit
adorned like stars across the sky
connecting all that lives and dies.

All this to come, in summer deep.
But for now, she sleeps.

This is my favourite thing I’ve written for a while, inspired by the magic of nature, the turning of the wheel and the return of the seasons. This steady rhythm is something we can align with, like breathing along with the sea swash moving in and out, we can connect with nature in a way that resets our mind away from the bustle of a life full of stress, of challenges, of desires and distractions that pull us away from the beautiful simplicity of nature and the heady fertility of the earth. 

I am working on a print. This poem came to me whilst meditating on the ideas behind the print, but was ready much sooner than I have been ready to finish cutting the block. I’ve included a snippet of the work in progress to serve as the cover pic for now. It will come soon enough and when it does I will share it here…I am sharing the poem now as I keep misplacing it in my many writers books so wanted to store it safe and sound and available to all. 

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Seaside Swifts

Fresh, bright blue
of sea and sky.
Under currents swirl
winds whip and curl up
foaming white crests
that kiss the salty air
carrying the cries
of swooping swifts
who tell us
summer’s nearly here.

Like this poem? It was inspired by one of my prints. Seaside Swifts Poem was written to accompany my first handmade block print. I took inspiration from coastal life, and the beautiful event of the swifts returning each year. They appear out of nowhere, shrieking and swooping through the sign. It’s a wonderful sign that summer is round the corner. They return in their mating pairs to the same nests they return to every year. I wanted to capture the movement, and the freshness of blue sea and sky. In the background you can see the skyline around Portsmouth Harbour, with the Spinnaker Tower, Gunwharf and HMS Warrior. This is a limited edition run. Other than a sunset variation which I have in mind for the summer, this will be your only chance to own this print so if you want it, come and get it!

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Slowly Come

Slowly come, unfurling leaves
woken up by warming feet. 
The sunshine strengthens
days linger on
life returns
now winter has gone.

When everything is moving
and nothing stays the same
we can only keep our footing
on what comes round again. 
We reach forward into future
skyward promises of shoots
while we lament on days gone past
a history inherited through our roots.

2026

This Slowly Come Poem was written to accompany a print. Slowly Come was inspired by Imbolc and the early signs of spring. Brigid was said to walk the cold land, with the first shoots of spring appearing through the cold earth underneath her feet. It’s a beautiful story that inspired me to ponder on our ancient understanding of the earth and the seasons, and our deep connection with it all, so often forgotten in the modern world. There is a lot of power in taking a moment to reconnect. We are all capable of it.

 

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Greys And Blues Are Beautiful

I’ll write today
not fight today.
I’ll paint, compose, I’ll create today.

I’ll take the gloom and spin it into thread.
Gorgeous hues of greys and blues.
Take my mental loom and weave it
through and through
into something fresh and new.
Something colourful.
Something comfortable
that makes you just feel wonderful
cause greys and blues are beautiful
in another context.

So, what shall we make next?
What sadness shall we take?
What despair shall we remake?
Tears rolling down the cheeks turn to paint as we
dab, dab, dab away at our next work of art.
The numb void of grief becomes full of story
sharing tales of a loved one left
and keeping their memory in the room.
Anger fuels a sound that carries it far away
on the wings of cathartic release.
Then peace, for a while at least.

This poem was just pent up gloom
that started bouncing around the room
then boom
it’s channelled into something new.

And if that’s not magic
I don’t know what is then.
It’s inside each and every one of us
All we have to do is listen.

2025

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Almost

This room
can only hold so many
bright lights

through fear of blinding.

Though we are bound,
our tethers may be destined
to only ever pass through walls,

preventing the collision,
of two sparks so bright

through fear of a flash
that would dim the heavens.

You are too powerful to exist together.

Never fear,
I will be your cord.

This tether will connect you
through story and song
shared memories,
photographs, anecdotes
pushing you so close
you can almost feel each others fingertips.

Almost.

2023

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Put It Out

Dirty, blue bin.
Plastic top mottled by old cigarettes.
Scars left by those who hold their breath,
extinguishing the flame.

Lonely, blue bin.
Abandoned red flowers drop curling leaves.
Browning stems sagging,
time passing,
weighted with someone
pausing,
before stubbing out their love.

2023

Put It Out