Mothspell

I wander in the standing stones, gather objects for potions: hemlock parts and gossamer, eye of toad and an owl’s feather. A celestial light show sparks and suddenly, without a flutter, a moth is trapped in a halo of moonlight and I am  rapt; lured by a death head’s powdered pinion – a fatal attraction. […]

With the Volume Turned Down Way Too Low

I hope it’s only temporary, this cotton-wool muffle of everyday sound, with random crackle of static, constant shower of white noise and high-hat cymbal of gravel on an empty road. I’m bombarded with percussion when I want to hear words, a human voice, the television and the ring of the telephone. Until normal service is […]

If I hadn’t written that poem

‘The world is never the same once a [good] poem has been added to it’. Dylan Thomas If I hadn’t looked up to search the heavens, would my soul ever have been soothed? I waited patiently for shooting stars to zip across the deepest, darkest winter sky – but the clouds were dense, obscured the […]

Moving Towards the End of the Year

Angular boned branches are bare except for the sheen of random smears of moss and ivy. They scratch at a sky opaque and goose-feather grey. Goblin faces gurn and leer from the trunk of the freshly pollarded willow trunk, their silent roar lost on a windy wave. Scattered birds rearrange themselves on telephone wires, notes […]