The Dyslexic Poet

Dyslexic, yet I

write too much, the same frayed ends,

or should that be ‘to much’ –

you may read it either way;

we write to much the same ends,…

Opaque Horizon

  Terror is this opaque horizon, toppling on the brink Of seeming void; in emptiness of a missile spent, Margins smudged with names obscured under ink Of tyranny of those that will not relent, or think, There may have been a gleam to glean but then The witness blinked and the sky was splinter-rent, This…

Seed and Stone

It is the equinox of seeds and reaping Gathered apples and pumpkin gourds, All being conceived, even in our sleeping, Of honeyed hoards we taste the sweet We greet, light and dark in each greeting, Now is time of balance, equity, justice, Dwindling and abundance dance hand in hand, Now time to set right wrongs…

Broken Sancturay

A return to some of my own verse. Please respect my copyright: Broken Sanctuary Broken sanctuary Jerusalem to Salem, Seats of a Sovereign She, Axis of the sacred sphere Salem; a place of safety, Broken by the men of fear, Sister did we think us free? What malice lead us here To exile we did…

Dancers in the Coil

One Singularity,  then word before language, a wobbly line, A universe of light expanding, dark energy stretching – We needed we,  needed dark to see light in space and time – And we light our candles, take a breath from our kvetching, We, time travellers in the constant light, remember it bends Branches on that…

In Conversation – communication as art

Creativity inspires creativity. Last night I was chatting with an artist and friend about conversations between pieces of art and pieces of music, poetry etc. Responses create further responses, layering ideas and ways of seeing whilst also peeling back layers. This is no new thing; artist enclaves have always been en vogue and perhaps often…

New

These are poems for a time of apples and honey; a time of new beginnings where fruitfulness comes to trees of every age. The sweetest fruit often falls from the oldest trees. This is a time, when according to at least one ancient calendar, we celebrate the birth of humanity and of ourselves. It, for…

Identity

What is identity?  As a poet the idea of who I am is fluid; a becoming. I am a poet and political being, creative facilitator and cat cushion. I am between able-bodied and disabled. I am born and live in a mix of cultural heritage.  Faith and science stand for me in partnership. I am…

The Eye

Rainbow Eye by Antonia Zenkevitch The Eye The ocean is born First tear from the eye, Light born liquid To reflect itself So we may see Our envisionings Manifest within as We create ourselves One eye made of many; Light refracted, Water rippled; We diversify And our light Grows wings, Fins and tails; And words…

Formation

Formation: Word, number and story sculpts all form into being, So, use words wisely, use words of life, flourishing and peace Use words of truth and dignity, pace breath and silence, Know that to speak ill judgement or falsehood of another, You cast ill upon the waters both of you, and others, drink, While words…