I do not speak . . .

A golden heart that beats within

A gently undulating flame

That shimmers, sending light

To every cell and atom of my being.

In quiet dusk I close my eyes

To hear its words of wisdom

Advising when to write

And when to stop, suggesting

Words and lines. I do not speak

But listen, watching how it moves

And glows, always there, lighting up

The dark beneath my skin.

Samhain | Hallowe’en

In the darkened room

Dim lamps and candles flare

It’s time –

Push back the chairs

Leave room for all the souls

Abroad tonight to mingle and remember

Set out the meats and bread

Uncap the warming drink

Nostalgia fills the cups

They whisper tales of youth

Thin voices rustling

Around the laden table

The living leap the fires

Gather nuts and fruit and

Mirror-gaze to see the future

Bright ring of day approaches

Reluctant, trailing wraiths

Rise and fade like smoke

While weary mortals sleep.

Takin’ a break

Hello to all who are kind enough to read my posts. I’m taking a week off from all media. I really have to put more time into The Red Petticoat – my poetry collection. I want to add in photographs – where appropriate – only ones I have taken myself. And I have two novels for children I need to have a look at too. And some half-written posts to complete.

In between times I shall tackle my TBR list and watch Netflix and drink coffee and knit dolls’ clothes for my granddaughter.

Until next week so . . .

Two poems published

I’m happy to say I’ve had two poems published in the Qutub Minar Review, Volume 3, Issue 2. They will form part of the collection “The Red Petticoat” which I hope to publish on amazon early next year. They’re short so I’ll include them here:

Unholy Things

Your eyes have shut themselves away

I watch them glance and bounce and spin

Deeper into alien things

Alien to me, my friend

Although you think I travel with you

I shrink from where you’ve gone

But still, a sting of envy

Your head is filled with beating wings

Bearing you high, and higher yet

Above unholy things

Too far from sweat and blood

From wormy worms and fleshy flesh

I’ll let you be.

Almost Whole

The punch is spiked with glory

My senses leaping and alive

For tonight to listen is enough

And through the music of the music

Runs an old familiar voice

A thread of scarlet joy, moving

In my blood, weaving through my heart

And lungs and lights, pulling tighter

Ever tighter ‘til I scarcely breathe

Caught like a bunch of doe-eyed pansies

My eyes are dark and wild with wonder At such intensity

That I must weep for being almost whole.