be the serpent

We used to go for drives in his car. Driving for the sake of driving. Just me, him, and music. Miles and miles of full circles leading u...

I'll miss the trains,  the sprint to catch a glimpse  of steam and steel just yards away.  I'll miss the gnarly tree I see  ...

While the babies sleep.  Tea, chocolate, notebook, pencil.  Birthing new babies. 

I found him in the garage on a Sunday afternoon, hands calloused, covered with oil, copper grease, dirt. He was hunched over an engine, ...

'I know a song that stops the rain' she told him. He smiled. But she played it anyway, stared into the water as it fell in pool...

Those were the darkest days.  When love so long rationed, was coldly cast off, thrown away. But she found him, falling apart, and she lo...

There’s something in the trees, that makes us whole again, that makes us one again, that makes us, stop. There’s something in the tree...

He brings me wild things, wild things with wings. He leaps into the still and silent sky, to murder my metaphors. He holds them in his ...

She suffers in sibilance, always thinking out loud. He just wants to share a silence. She flaps and she falls, in a downward spiral to sh...

Silent corridor, one thousand birds suspended, paper beginnings like ours, I write my secret wish on the wings of a crane.

It pours through the roof, raging river of remnants, cascading currents of metal and mud, this flood drowns all sounds, but the earth’s ...

Home is a mug of tea warming my hands and a radiator burning my legs, as I stare into the black square behind the curtain. Home is your a...

I pluck the baubles from the tree that's living in our room. I strip away the lights and watch the gloom creep back into the corner. I...

The trees that line the twisting road,  lean in to drop their words in bright red flurries. Silent sentences, unheard by speeding cars.   I ...

Look at him. He sings in the street like the world is his stage and his life is an opera.  Arms outstretched, head held high, Pavarotti ...

Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman. She sings the song as she scatters the flour and traces the name her family gave her. Words in white du...

If all the world's a stage, she'd rather stay behind the scenes. She'd paint the sky with birds and prompt the actors wi...

I was lucky enough to work with some truly inspiring people last week.  Here's a link to the work I did with them.   http:/...

I trip, and slip down secret snakes, that wait for me to miss a step, to fall. I lose my grip, on scales as smooth as silver tongues...

It was a slow day, down by the river. Slow was her only pace. The sun warmed her face and the top of her head as she read back old po...

Loose lips sink ships, he says, and she sees from the swell of blue in his eyes, he's going under. Each explanation she offers, i...

The light changes. Gravewalker goosebumps shiver on skin. For one, slow, second, sky stands still. And then, it hits the windows. All ...

The Nashalim has lost his wings. They fell into a river, black as hell in darkest Prague.  The scars still sear his back. Through centurie...

You were born an original, don’t die a copy. John Mason Sudden and silent, a hushed rush of white, falling from heaviest heaven. Chaotic cry...

Run away with me. We’ll drive down roads with old stone walls. We’ll close our eyes by waterfalls, and listen. You’ll show me how to skim a ...

Cape Cod Morning by Edward Hopper He watches her watch for him. She's an open window. He's near enough to hear her hum, to see...

Leaves like birds, birds like kites, soaring on the other side of boring business, bland bureaucracy. Crispy, crunchy, catapulted, caught by...

Scoop out my sweet flesh Carve my face to smile for you I glow like Autumn

Her hunger overcomes her. She shakes with urgency. Too many nights she's waited, bated shallow breath in hopes of ecstasy. She's pla...

I used to hate the sun. I stayed indoors with rain in my heart. You showed me the light. You led me into the woods to touch the trees. You m...

I remember the first time I visited him here. His dog ate my sock. It was purple with white spots, the sock not the dog. I remember I though...

The waves of my ocean crystallised. My surfers’ paradise lost. The reservoir of my soul dehydrated, an arid landscape, no place for man. Loo...

I bought you a gift. Who knew you could buy tears in a bottle for those who cannot cry? Just drop a witch in water and the tide will turn. T...

Is this my wish? The product of a paper tree? Is this the kiss of fate, a date with destiny? Is he my roses' rain, my poet's pain? M...

This heaven’s not so sumptuous. This sickly’s not so sweet. It sticks, too thick inside my throat. It burns. Perfection passes quickly, like...

His silence engulfs her, she’s crashing on rocks. His tide pulls her in, sweeps her out. drags her under. She’s gasping for air, he’s right ...

They stumble through sludge, shivering still, from the cold up their sleeves. Bundled in layers of comfort that don’t quite protect. Restric...

I try to find the words but love's hard to describe. It's stolen moments, easy silence, looks that could fill books. It's cuddle...

My heart is a bird, caged in my chest. You make me remember my wings. I used to feel safe in the dark, in the silence. But you make me sing....

Cross through into another realm of silence. Speak, not knowing they have no words and suddenly words exist there. You have given them words...

The Day the clocks went back, the August sky bled grey. Thirteen moths escaped through skin. Chaos called. We let him in. I saw you cry. The...

My muse has forgotten me, left me in limbo, alone with a pencil and pain with no name. I’m impotent, empty. My words have escaped me. They f...

She bows her head and weeps over wistful water. Weeps like a willow. Trailing her tangled tendrils, wet with tears, wet with river....

Forgive me Father, it has been two months since my last poem. My words are far from good, they are not perfect, but I have tried to do the ...

Bruised but not broken, my tender wings, so heavy. I lift them slowly. I raise them upwards, to the sky, and bow before the stars. A ...

I just loved him out of habit. Regular routines of romance, my part only, I played, my role of rejection to perfection. And now I am ...

Floating little, lazy lights  are drawn towards their trickling end. Burning orange, amber, yellow. Safe, encased, in buoyant bowls. Light t...

A glass tree hangs above me, see-through, still and strong. A hundred perfect, brittle branches, float, suspended, long and lonely, only inc...

If wishes were willows, they’d line every street. They’d rustle and crinkle their white paper leaves. They’d hang low and heavy with the wei...

The poem below (Fall Out Bird) is a bit of a cheat poem, because it isn't really new.  I just found it in an old notebook, where I'd...

You're a canary, I'm a coalmine. You rattle your cage, but there's no escape. My winding black tunnels stretch longer, plunge de...

(Inspiration from York Art Gallery) Dirty brown feathers, on tired, old wings. Resting now, dusty, detached. The ticking has ceased, for thi...

(Inspiration from Castle Museum) Thunder rattles brittle windows, blackened sky pours down. Water splashes shiny cobbles, Lightening cracks ...

Ink Sinks Into skin. Colours bleed Into blood. Steel stings, Scrapes, Sears, Scorches, Stains my flesh.

Awakening is the name of my MA Dissertation. It is a long short story, with poetry weaved through. It is a story about a girl who has lost ...

You claw at my skin, Slashing and shredding. Such terrible teeth To tear tender flesh. You scrape at my bones, So savage, you ravage me, Rip...