In the haphazard garden, the confusing jungle of shapes, textures, aromas and images, thoughts drift, linger, and drift again. Like the cat, ginger and white fur prowling, slinking in and out, brushing through the undergrowth, until the seeds of delight are found, planted with a sigh, in the straight channels, of a freshly turned bed, and the page is printed. Inspired by the poem Thought Fox by Ted Hughes (1957) Continue reading Thought Garden
When he opened his eyes to a snow-tipped peak the only love of his life is missed those sparkling mountain tops all hikers seek brought to life her eyes and the lips he once tenderly kissed. His lids lifted to a tranquil blue lake still as ice before the day had begun early birds soared high, no sound did they make all day he would mourn, beneath the warm sun. The rays slashed colour across the wide skies horizon of purple, orange and pinks an unused pillow drew tears from his eyes the bed’s icy space, his heavy heart sinks. … Continue reading Waking
From Bristol to Brighton & Bach 