Afternoon Tea

We sit together for tea
with cups, saucers and
the old willow teapot.

The afternoon sun moves
closer to the end
as the chatter moves on.

Wishing wells and time
come to mind for
many unknown reasons.

The teapot empties
staying that way for a while;
we continue appearances.

A sound from the teapot;
no, this must be a mistake.
The teapot becomes a shell
and, the music of the sea plays.

No one else seems to notice
the teapot, playing songs.

She’s calling me to her side;
I decide to visit the sea
and ask her for her hand.

The Raven

No one visits,
no visitors visit
her home.

More witch than woman,
they say
something like that.

Living alone stirs rumours,
tales become more,
soon blood may flow.

A beauty, despite the time.
She refuses to brush her hair,
many curls, a bird appears.

Black eyes know the
way to and from this
world to the next.

The chimney sends smoke
puffing thick, into the

Careful, the leaves
no trace of who
she once was.

Only what is needed,
she takes from her home,
the place loved so well.

Moving on, she sets her
home alight, so no one
will find what she felt.

Hearing a burning place.
The moor is hidden,
not a living soul around.

Gone before the judgement
police come knocking,
and kill her with stones.

Like the Sun

Version 1

Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.

you behave like the snow.

I cannot decide
if you are the
sun or the moon.

I like to think
you are both
the sun and the snow;
beautifully complete.

Version 2

Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.

you behave like the snow.

Like the moon,
you mesmerise, lighten.

I cannot decide
if you are the
moon or the sun.

You are many.
Sun and snow,
moon and sun,
winter and summer,
autumn and spring.


I thought I would show you multiple versions of a similar poem, as this is often the creative process I go through to get to a final version.

I’m interested to know which one you like better.

Nineteen Years

To sit, watching the sky change
from blue, grey, sunflower yellow,
slowly changing
to pink, indigo, darker colours.

To wonder, thinking of your love,
the tempo of your heart,
constant, changing,
from blue, green to indigo, black.

To love, without fear of tongues
moving like the wind,
lashing love,
moving until seeds grow darker.

To think, after nineteen years
your heart, my heart,
they feel the same,
they love in many colours, shades.

To feel, physical movements,
mystical movements,
as our trunks, branches,
leaves intertwine until the light fades.

You and the Moon

Walking towards a destination,
stepping on the concrete jungle.

The last light is moving into the night
as the moon rises into the sky;
an orb so big and bright, so alive.

Silver spoons handed never to you,
yet the thought of only one would’ve helped;
a favour to help you walk the chosen path.

Noises, emotions, a convoluted mess;
you drown it all out with your world: music.

Turning the corner, it’s only you and the moon.
You share a moment before the darkness closes in,
and the dreams you cannot grasp,
seem too vivid and bright.

The Cat & Jam

Yesterday hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.

Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
Hearts must be ready waiting for time.

Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, crystallising.

A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food or else she will be the next meal.

Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.

The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.

Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish, for insomnia and jam are no strangers.

She sits on the fence for a while deciding,
until the desire for sweet outweighs reason.

Inside Lives

Winter winds blow across the backyard.

A bunny bounces, so we take a photo.

Sunsets mock us, so we take an inside photo.

They say lockdown is like running in circles, but we’re not running anywhere.

We’re waiting for the next parcel to be delivered, and eating cake.

Dreaming in Colour

He dreamed in colour.
Dancing with her made his heart beat faster, as they twirled in unattainable opulence.
The colours swirled around the room, as he felt a devotion to her.
She changed. The face of love turned to hate; she was pulling away.
He woke drenched, then remembered his wife loved someone else.