In my poems I explore ideas of memory, commitment, faith and self-fulfilment. Since 2014 my poems have appeared or are forthcoming in print in Lost Country and Time of Singing and online in Calvary Cross, Crux Literary Journal, Fib Review, Ground: Poetry of Faith and Doubt, Hedgerow, One sentence poems, Open Mouse, PILGRIM, poetry24, and verbatim.
I am currently working on a joint project with the composer Hans-Jürgen Gerung.
Bridge over Airthrey Loch
Some days it is invisible
Like the lines on squared paper
Filtered out by the mind
When you look at the drawing
Not a technical drawing but art
Art imitating nature: the loch
On other days it is there
Thin and discreet
A pale aid line
That guides your eyes
Across the water
And into the hills so purple and green
On other days its panels darken
And cut boldly through the loch
They point: here read! here sleep!
A solid leader line
That drives you forward to the books
Or back toward your home, yes, home
But you will leave
And when you then one day return
It will be all of these
Above the natural and man-made world
A timeline of your passages
Concrete suspended in the air
(Earlier version published in Open Mouse)
On Turning Forty-four
A few years back
I noticed
That the billboard models
Had turned from
Women to girls
Now they are daughters
I started to notice
Smooth skin that sets us apart
More than features, expressions
Their pose no longer directed at me
I do not mourn youth
We will share
The same room on this earth
The bus stop, the mall
I can answer their smile with a smile
But at home
I have turned
The pale soldier’s face
Of all the father I had
Face to the wall
I have grown up to him
Now we’ll be growing apart
Till I can see him
With motherly eyes
(first published in Lost Country)
To Perotine Massey’s Son
I tell him of rabbits and lambs
He would prefer
Dragons and knights
Dressed in white,
With black scales
I say: doctors, priests,
Judges, and ordinary men
Can be heroes too
(first published in Crux Literary Journal)
Roman Room
Mnemonists
Tie thoughts to tangible things
With the chair, the table
The framed painting on the bedroom wall
They recall
Random words
Or the order
Of shuffled cards
I do this, too, but for reassurance
I touch in my room
The wood and the glass
Substitutes for what
Has been wrested out of my hands
When I ask: who am I?
They say
You give us shelter
We remember the names
(first published in Hedgerow)