Extract from my current WIP

I don’t usually write poems or songs in my books, but this time the story called for one. And as this blog features quite a lot of my poetry, I thought I’d share it. To put it in context, it gives a vial clue for my characters to find something:

‘And when the snows begin to ease

On mountains high, with cool breeze

Look out to the peaks every morn

From which the ice sparrows are drawn

And watch them duck and dive

Until upon the floating cities they arrive,

Stealing crystals for their nests,

Those naughty sparrows, dragon’s pests.

The death of stars

the twilight of the night, voiceless, yet screaming. can you appreciate her delicate embrace; a mother snarling at injustice, retching up her pain as tears streak her face.

Feathered Things

In the woods on a blue moon night sits an owl, who given the correct password, leads to a tired old raven, wise in many things and many ways. I ask it why the silence is always so painful, why the white waiting room that goes on forever is still never vast enough to contain that feeling. It replies; because if it were not so, we would never appreciate when the silence ends.

 

Pruning practices

I can see the roots

growing in the corners

of your eyes,

under the ground

where you think no-one will find,

and in my veins.

Oh, you hope

to hide from me, but

you don’t know

I can look inside myself.

I can cut you out

if I want to,

like a weed.

I can leave you to wither.

Would you like that?

Love hearts

I like how when we’re together and you think no-one’s watching, you give me your last one. A small, round candy piece with a heart on it, which has cute, but mostly silly, cliche messages inside. Be mine. Kiss me.  For keeps. I love you. This time, I give you my last one. Marry me? You bite into it, a nervous laugh leaves your lips as you try to decide if I’m serious or just joking. I’m serious.

New video: Rainbow Bookshelf Tour #1

Hi guys, I decided to make a video about books off of my shelves all with red covers!

Enjoy!

Jard Town, the home of Thordric Manfred Smallchance

Today I thought I’d do something a bit different, and talk a bit about the town Unofficial Detective, my debut book, is set in.

Jard Town is its name, and it was given by its founder, the wizard Kalljard, who since the town’s inception one thousand years before Thordric’s story starts, was High Wizard of the Wizard Council (yes, he really was that old)… until his untimely death at the beginning of the book.

Before that, it was just a small settlement surrounded by forest and thus full of forest folk, including the Watchem Watchems, who even at that time, loved to disguise themselves as shrubbery and put people on edge by following them around. But Kalljard put an end to all that, driving every creature away and building the foundations of the town in their place.

Now it bustles with normal town life, full of carriages, wizards, half-wizards (though for reasons of personal safety, they don’t openly admit it), bakers, builders, students, dry cleaners, police officers and many serious people. Nothing special, really. Except, of course, that no-one knows how hateful and ruthless a man its founder truly was.

At least, not until Thordric stumbles – somewhat by accident – onto the truth.

 

If you’re interested, Unofficial Detective is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, as well as The Book Depository.

The Number Games: May the odds be in your favour

I’m thinking of a number –

no, not that one –

it’s a bit more edgy,

higher too.

So four?

Not quite, try another.

Six then.

Oh, come on now, you

can do better than that.

I said edgy.

Fine, thirteen then.

No, no, no.

Half a triangle more like.

A triangle?

Is this even about numbers anymore?

No, not really,

but it kept you interested

for a while,

didn’t it?

Umm…

The answer was seven.

By the way.

Rain

We can walk together along the path

of browns and golds, an orange here and there,

we can chat about how things are –

home, jobs, family, hobbies –

we can look up at the darkening sky,

glee in our eyes,

and stick out our tongues

ready to catch those first drops

weeping down from the clouds.

 

Or we could laugh at the time you fell

in that shallow puddle,

which actually turned out to be quite deep.

Kivuli

What are shadows made of

when they look at you,

flickering in candlelight

or standing bold against

the rays of the sun?

Our silent companions

we forget are there.

Those who experience every part

of us, even the parts

we think no one can see.

Our constant. Our comrade.

Present, without judgement,

without thought.

 

We think.