Poetry
The richest jewels of Arthurian lore,
Cupped within the palm, legend to cradle
The most gorgeous of linguistic subtleties,
Woven to flower-unfurl, syntax and meaning entwined...
~ A Self-Portrait {Omitting Me} (2023)
Further than an orator's voice,
Beyond ink-spilt words in mountain ridges,
A spiked-terrain of peak and valley,
Mapping a poet's page...
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~ Tócnawenness (2022)
Ymaginacioun
​
Platinum Award
Winner
of
Artful Expressions of the Mind 2023
​
Purple Octopus Art
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Where We Are (2022) – Anthology by Shrewsbury Library Writers' Lab
Joe Shooman, December 2022:
"From words to design, cover art to proofing, this was all done by Writers' Lab members. It is truly independent, and that is wonderful and powerful...
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...This is where we are; our fleeted moment flies free. One day it may land where you are."
2022 Publication of
​
The Wildlife Manual
and
In What Woven Web?
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Book Launch and Poetry Readings
May 2023
Excerpts...
Double Vision.
Stealth-pursued acknowledgement,
Of Duality,
Of truth twisted upon itself,
That phantom shadow beginning to slide,
Towards Reality,
In a battle to believe,
My own vision
~ Double Vision (2023)
Fingers trailing gold
Awaken the mountain's westward slopes,
Dew hangs heavy in the air,
A waist-high sea of mist
Stretching across the valley.
Morning is rich in my nose,
That unique, blissful scent
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~ Ymaginacioun (2023)
This globe, a gentle palm, cups life between curled fingers,
A Hand so delicate, by Jupiter so small, measures Earth's horizons,
A universe of secrets gathered within atmosphere's blue embrace,
White-clad fingers of a star-streaked sky, clasping.
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~ Claim No Stars (2022)
Fram ofer lyftedorum Ä¡egildenum-ecged beyeondan,
RÄ«st rihtéastanwind bebirende,
Sunnaūpgang, goldfӕt, betweonan,
Beorhtes of hira besígende fiðersliehta:
Leohtsawend is se blÓ•st, sín sÇ’nne-rÄ«ses callende.
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~ Leoð of þæm Earendles (2022)
Read a Poem in full...
Hospital Hours
A white corridor stretches to infinity,
Time grazing marks across patterned floors.
Hours compressed into bro ken sec onds,
Moments marching in
​
ectopic
beats,
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Arrhythmia captured in the irregular count
Of minutes, de
railing the linear.
Moments lost to oblivion,
Added to the sequence,
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A Clot of Compressed Existence
Defy ing Reason
The ward's wheeling vortex,
Spiralling time and space
Out of rhythm;
Out of _
My corridor.
Stretches
To infinity-to temporal-illusion,
Time grazing marks across patterned floors.
This poem was written during fourteen hours spent in a crowded hospital corridor in my emergency department. It was inspired, in part, by the medical jargon swirling around me as various dramatic diagnoses were posited... and then discarded, so many multicoloured leaves caught in the wind.