Earliest Memory
I am stumped. Cricket stumps. My dad played cricket. All the cream men moving on a swathe of green; running, jumping, diving. Whooping....
These Fears
I am writing and not writing, postponing writing, postponing thought, fearful of what thoughts may come. Fear of fear. Fear; the leap...
Moving Out
(in response to a passage from Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, by Jeanette Winterson) It was a shock, in the end. The wall had crumbled,...
When it mattered
(in response to a passage from A Shepherd’s Life by David Rebank) It always matters, which is where the trouble starts. How the mayhem...
Somewhere
Somewhere. A root in the earth. The rich earthy earth, moist, the parched compacted earth, hard. The earth in all its stages of...
Our stories, partly told
(in response to Walk by Imtiaz Dharker) Frost on the broad walk. So many lines in this poem feel like they could be titles of other poems...
The morning
(in response to The Morning is Full by Pablo Neruda) Sometimes, in fact most of the time, I refer to the night as being like a storm. My...
Illness
I hired a car so me and my partner could drive up to Essex to visit my father in his residential care home. He was ninety-five and had...
Shadows
(in response to Lamium, a poem by Louise Gluck) I wake beneath a canopy of shadows, the spells of the night & the scars of an uneven...
The open door
(in response to Night Moths, a poem by Jackie Kay) This immediately reminds me of a local charity called "Open Door", this charity looks...