April Frost

National Poetry Writing Month – Day 24 I begin to see the poetry of every day, appreciating the gently changing rhythms and meters of my life, seeing poems where a photographer would see a beautifully composed picture, like a broken fence casting a soft shadow over the daffodils that dallied around its base. I saw… Read More April Frost

A Dark Cloud

National Poetry Writing Month – Day 8 A dark cloud hangs over the town, like a shawl discarded by a grieving widow. Below, in this functional and secular space, eleven barely connected people listen to songs of memories and loss. Someone says a few words in tribute. A pseudo-eulogy. He could have been anyone –… Read More A Dark Cloud


National Poetry Writing Month – Day 4 I awake to the percussion of rain falling on metal dustbin lids, a sound which remains even when the rain ceases. Mornings can be cruel and heartless, they hold no promises or secrets, are no respecters of place or person. The leftover crisps, the unfinished beer, the unemptied… Read More Mornings