Published

If it doubt, talk about the weather

4am wind whips

round my flat rattling walls

permeating dreams

—

I’m not sure what the weather is like with you but here we have blustery gales ripping up trees, closing roads and causing trouble.  Wind is one of my least favourite weathers.  I tried to explain why to someone a few years ago and they didn’t get it.  Maybe it was me, maybe I didn’t explain it well enough, but I feel like I am being attacked by the wind.  I want to retreat, run away, hide from the enemy.  I want to pull a duvet over my head and block out the howls with a pillow.  I take the weather personally.

Published!

Very excitingly, two of my poems have been published in ‘Opening a different window: a poetry and illness anthology’.

If you’re interested, you can download it for £5.95.

Apparently it’s new year’s eve

Personally I’m far more excited at the prospect of a four day weekend!

It begins…

Clocks tick, breath is held
Hands move to midnight as the
Last second passes

(Prompt from WriteAlm‘s January prompts)

Awake at 3am

Dreams dance behind glass
To rustling leaves. A wall
Separating us.

Tears to icicles
Down frost bitten cheeks. Sorrow
Freezing inside her

—
I finally wrote a thing! It’s been a long time…

World Enough and Time Part 2

In my last post, I included poems which took me from York to Ullapool.  Because of tide times and such things I stayed in Ullapool in The Ceilidh Place (part bookshop, part cafe, part hotel, part hostel) for a night.  This also turned out to be a great place to sit and read and avoid the rain.

By the way, if you’re travelling round Scotland on public transport I highly recommend Traveline Scotland (also available in app form).

Ullapool

The 3am wind

Clatters the rain beaten glass

Here in ullapool

 

In The Ceilidh Place

Sodden shoes squeak loudly over

Gaelic music and hushed voices

Strangers share stories with acquaintances

As if the best of friends

In this passing place

 

On the boat to Tanera Mor

Isabella leaves

A trail of white foam as she

Heads for tidemarked land

 

Fatherly

A stranger wishes

Me goodnight in the same way

He would his children