I’ve launched a new website for my work as a creative writing facilitator, writeyourworldalive.today
In 2013 I published a short work of alphabetic fiction as an e-book, available for Kindle: A Glossary of my Grandmother. A young woman finds her scholarly grandmother becomes a stabilising influence on her life. After her death, she decides to pay tribute to her in an A-Z of her life, and starts to explore […]
There was a key, a mirror and a razor blade.
There was a razor blade, a mirror, and a key.
This story happens in any order.
You’re upstairs on the No. 50 bus in Kings Heath High Street. The traffic always clogs here, as people flock to shops supplied by juggernauts with goods funnelled in from around the world: money pours into the tills. Outside a supermarket, a child’s bike chained to a lamp post serves as a blue plaque: Hope, […]
Place wild flowers on my coffin. Let them fade.
Read from such scriptures as you may find
on a page torn from some book I loved
A new poem called Cure published today in the online magazine Ink Sweat & Tears. It begins ‘I asked the doctor what was wrong with me’.
There was a great big bed and I was floating around in it
I’m trying to convey to you that the bed was like a large lake.
I was on my own in a very wide bed wearing a babygro.
The wind stands fair for France. Look,
here’s a troop ship, battle-grey.
filled with cattle: young bulls trained to charge.
I arrived at the station – train delayed an hour.
Stuff that. I bought my own, drove it myself,
got there early. A kerfuffle on arrival –
the Fat Controller spluttered about rights.
I bought the track.
The city writes a city in its margins
And writes another city at its core.
The city writes the lives of other people –
Erases some, engraves some in its stone.