Tag Archives: Autobiographical poetry

The Ash Tree

from an ancient wood trapped the garden of the tiny terraced house in south London was the reason I bought the house. I imagined it whispering words of comfort and even singing to me if things got tough. As the … Continue reading

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Eating Apricots in France

for Jean and Mado Under the sun umbrella on the terrace old friends meet. Watching the mist on mountains listening to the call of the cowman urging his herd to milking. Eating apricots, sipping wine, a gentle informality, born of … Continue reading

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Reconciliation

Seeds take flight with the softest blow, on dandelion clocks you know. Forever? How long can that be? And who’s in charge of time. Tell me? Twin spirits drift and sometimes fly, but cannot separate or die. Distance is all … Continue reading

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Granny’s Corset

Push open the door and enter her room with heavy beige wallpaper and brown gloss paint. Grandma, propped up with pillows, crisp white sheet, pure silk eiderdown, raises a frail hand in greeting. Time to cram her into her corset, … Continue reading

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Smiley House

I have had a beach hut for over thirty years, my partner bought it when he lived down here thirty years ago in the 80s.  He had to move back to London for several years but westill came down with … Continue reading

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Weaving Spells

Our faces shone with shy smiles
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The Passing Season

HIdden from view he hums
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