wind carries autumn leaf,

lays softly on white pillow;

Summer remembered.


Nettle stings and other things


When the summer clock struck the light
shadows posing as mobs
of crows or cows or something other

crowded me down
the lanes of campion and nettle flowers
led by lambs; loose limbed lambs

I stood my ground, watched as I lengthened
my own shadow, pressed it against the undergrowth
light as night, and twice as bright as bluebells rang in alarm

all the while dandelions scattered to the winds
blown seeds carry secrets in under their feathers
afloat on whispered air, tucked in tufts of blue

miraculous dew weighted webs stretch across the paths
shining tiaras ensnaring hapless summer wishes
binding them in silence whilst the spiders spin, grinning

saving them all for later
savouries of winter dinner
to be picked over

stings and stones
salt and bones
for frost held hours


Un Signed Sonnet


scritch scratch scritch scratch listen, close
your eyes and breath, these ain’t
no rats nor weasels, please watch
inedible fruit dancing through leaves
these tongues of ink strung up
in hands of trees and breezes
snitch snatch this way ‘n that

scribbles, signs, symbols
rise up in the wild, pointy pointy
wood-sappy poet etches in liberty
swaying to nature’s music listen, close
your eyes, listen with breath
the Artist’s signature surrounds
and it ain’t Tim Knowles’!

  1. Tim Knowles, a British artist, attaches pens to trees and lets the wind do the rest of the work. They produce some interesting results, too.

Napowrimo Day 30:-write a poem that engages with a strange and fascinating fact. It could be an odd piece of history, an unusual bit of art trivia, or something just plain weird.





You said you would kill it this morning
Do not kill it. It startles me still,
The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing                         
 Sylvia Plath

Keeping time with beats in my breast
Dark beats with wings attached. Do not kill it.
Still, you said. You would, this morning, racing

Stilted progress, uncertain across our path,
Long tail plume quivering anxiety in
Fear filled clucks, alert to odd sorrow

Pain starts and springs up, in gushes
Struggling to height, crashing. Yet, it lives.
Ha! You cried. You would, again, hollow

ML 29/04/18

Napowrimo Day 29;-write a poem based on the Plath Poetry Project’s calendar. Simply pick a poem from the calendar, and then write a poem that responds or engages with your chosen Plath poem in some way.


You said you would kill it this morning.
Do not kill it. It startles me still,
The jut of that odd, dark head, pacing

[continue reading at]

Thruppence a bath

Brighton West Pier


We came here to fill deckchairs with our backsides and stuff our faces with ice cream, ‘member? That awful shingle beach that hurt your feet, (until the tide went out and the sand appeared!). A decent bit of sun, then back to the B&B for a hot bath in a proper bath! Luxury. Well worth thruppence. The landlady never did a get a latch for the bathroom.

Off to the West Pier where gangly groups of boys with slick hair and film star cigarettes gathered and you girls, lined up against the mirrored walls, waiting to be asked for a  dance. Such pretty patterned summer dresses, bashful cheeky smiles and sunburnt holiday eyes. When I asked, you said “Yes, if you must.”  all cool-like. Then you spun me round all blimming night!

Every year since, we’ve come down here, sat in them deckchairs, wind whipping our hair, licking our runny ice creams. All cold and miserable until you say, Fancy a dance, darlin’?

ML 28/04/2018

Postcard by Mercer Images Photo by Johnny

Napowrimo Day 28:-  prompt- prose poem postcard


The Bright Mother

Card courtesy The Faerie Oracle by Brian Froud

One bare shoulder
one arm loose, draped in flowers
full of vows, fleshed secrets
smell of grass and leaf crushed
under naked foot

Reflections in a ball of waters
mother, sister, daughter
lover, dancer, mystic

Cradled within a crescent Moon
darkest nights yet to come
stars bloom heavy petaled
wishes shift in brilliance

A lean boy, greenstick strong
coppiced from hawthorn father
seeks the Bright Mother
finds fated faerie lover

On whom will greatest burden fall
dropped from morning mists
in dips and rises from sweetened dew?

ML April 27 2018

Napowrimo day 27:-  Following Lauren Hunter’s practice of relying on tarot cards to generate ideas for poems, we challenge you to pick a card (any card) from this online guide to the tarot, and then to write a poem inspired either by the card or by the images or ideas that are associated with it.

She lifted the lid…

The resultant repulsive stench
choked, made eyes run red

Protests rose in throats
as tastebuds retreated in panic
mouths clamped tight

Nostrils snapped shut in horror
as malodorous wafts penetrated
nooks and crannies, no safe breather

Thrust upon us, an unholy offering as ever made
to a chorus of screeching chairs on floor flags
teeth sent over the precipice, knees to knock and quake
spines shivering at the prospect of yet another
of Mum’s mystery meat stews

Goosebumps and hairs raised
us kids huddled at the kitchen
doors closed, windows sealed

The heat was epic, sweat prolific
but Mum had slaved and toiled
and we were made to eat it all

ML April 26 2018

Napowrimo Day 26:- Taking our cue from today’s craft resource, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses. Try to be as concrete and exact as possible with the “feel” of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and hear.