A mosaic fairytale for my father

The giant

BA-DUM BA-DUm BA-DUM! Booming, rhythmic, hammering the air along with the thump of his ogre feet. My father is a giant, he is tall and strong: invincible. He strides with his giant legs. Fast but not so fast that he will catch me. His…

Urgent: please forward to RuPaul

“…even her doting mother can’t find a plan where watching “Drag Race” is a real job. Or can she?”

“I’m working,” she says.

“Erm…Is watching Drag Race work?”

“Well if I don’t watch it then the ratings will go down, it’ll be cancelled, and I won’t be able to watch…

free verse

I wish a foolishness of flowers to
Grace your garden, an idiocy of
Irises, a daftness of dahlias,
Yes…even a recklessness of roses.

Let them flourish and grow and scent and be
As they are, twining their path, pushing through
Hard spaces, as the butterflies and bees
Pass their secret messages one flower…

How Robert the Bruce’s spider led me to love

My first historical crush was Robert the Bruce. So brave, hiding in his cave, talking to a spider. He was so beloved that, when he died, they cut out his heart and pickled it. They encased it then in a silver…

Day One or Day Minus One — which will it be?

Balancing Act

I am a non-smoker, or at least I aspire to be, or no, I have to be sure I am, but how can I be sure? Who even is this stranger — non-smoking me? Do I like her? Do…

Free Verse

Through the hound’s eyes
you are quaking meat with faltering step
You are weak (at the knees)
You give off the odour of fear
(beneath the sweetness of your perfume)
Are to be stalked, killed, and savoured
before the next meal.

The herd (you travel in groups but they in…

free verse

Watching TV

Behind the no-space between
my breast and her cheek,
warm with milk and slumber,
my heart is doing too many things at once.
Is it that which wakes her?
Or my grip holding her tight enough
to try to hold the future safe
as I watch the second plane


and even time shocks and shatters.
Jumbled lives and limbs crumble
to mangled scrap, spilling
a cold hard rain of concrete,
and lethal dust, pauses, clouds and gathers,
spreads, billows, stretches
…beyond the warm wet tears at gravesides
…beyond the empty shoes, and empty beds,
the empty hands of husbands, wives, sons
…daughters…so many empty spaces
…beyond the screen’s edges
casting a poison on all our houses…

Her woken eyes watch me,
>>>a snug tiny fist<<<
resting with a world’s weight
on my chest.

The light is golden
to ombréd orange
like the hair of my eldest
a softer light than
in youthful days
as I ran rings around the garden
jumping in and out the
cold spray of the bright green hose
that waggled and surged
like my joyful howls
bubbled out with the laughter
squirted the squeals
along with the neighbour-kids
on skateboards, bikes, go-carts

or the vertigo of parenting

Stuck on a chair lift

My legs are dangling over nothingness. The harsh screech, of the steel line braking, cracks the frozen mountain air and makes the chair, welded to the cable, rock.

A euphoric moment — aloft in the Alps, blue skies bright and…

We have a naked squatter on our roof

It could be said that I’m a bit of a fabulist — in fact, it has been said by my therapist, but that’s confidential so pretend you didn’t hear it. Besides, I disagree. What’s in my head is not always fabulous, and…

Peculiar Julia

Writer of poetry, prose, and the occasional rant. I like to feed the monsters under my bed with story cake and poem pastries. Is peculiar (Julia)

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