Poetry

Reviews for an unusual holiday let

“It’s a neat little place, cosy I’d say.”

“Smart outer appearance, spacious open plan room.”

“A bit drafty sometimes, but the decor is nice.”

“Springy underfoot. Good stitching, too.”

“I like the colour. Very cheerful, and perfect for autumn weather.”

“Still has that newly bought smell. Oh, and I adored the ladder laces.”

 

“Um. It’s a boot. What more can I say?”

Poetry

Cacti Nymph

She’s heard whispers of cousins who were born

from branches, from leaves

from soils full of treasured minerals.

The thought makes her climb down the spines to the molten sand,

dip in her hand

and bring a scoop of those yellow granules to her eyes,

wondering if they are bland

because they already used up their nutrients

forming her cactus mother,

or if there never were any

and she is either miracle or curse.

Poetry, Uncategorized

It’s release day for my poetry collection, A Book For Pandora!

Greetings, everyone!

A Book for Pandora has been a while in the making, so I’m delighted to finally be able to share it with you.

Those of you who have been following me since the beginning may recognise many of the poems in this collection, as most of them originated as drafts on this very blog. Of course, they have since been tweaked and fine tuned over the years until I was happy with them – which, being of the perfectionist type, was quite hard for me to do – and have now been neatly ordered and presented in one solid tome.

So, without further ado, here it is in paperback and on Kindle.

A Book for Pandora

Extracts/ Flash Fiction

Extract from my latest MG, ‘Wings in a Wounded Sky’

Her parents had never uttered even the hint of a roar in her lifetime, even when another Ogg came by to demand why they were missing from that year’s summer gathering. They’d simply explained their reasons and invited him into their nest hole, which, as most Oggs thought they could go anywhere, invited or not, only served to enrage him more.  He’d roared at them, spouting about disrespecting Ogg etiquette, and raged off.

It hadn’t been that long ago, really. Only a few weeks before her parents had fallen ill. She rested her head against the mottled bark of an extremely old Okke tree, wishing more than ever that they hadn’t gone, when Silver popped up in front of her, orange eyes ablaze.

‘Why are you hiding, stupid? The sisters are worried sick,’ she snapped, letting curls of smoke trail from the corners of her mouth. Rae could see scratches on her arms and face, which was surprising, because she’d been sure the Fae boy hadn’t fought back.

‘They’re scared of me. I can’t face them knowing that,’ Rae replied, avoiding her gaze and picking at a piece of loose bark.

‘You are an idiot. Yes, they were scared of you, the same as I was when you roared, but it was only because we didn’t know you could do that. You took us by surprise, that’s all. We know you’re far too soft to actually hurt anyone…and if you hadn’t stopped me, I might have broken that boy’s wings off.’ There was reluctance in her voice, but also shame. ‘Come back with us. Then we can find out together why that blue-eyed slime is here, and why his people took my parents.’

Rae took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the trees so that the Rosycheeks could see her. They cried out and ran up to her, embracing her warmly, before heading back to the cottage. There, they found the Fae boy by the pond with Nymphy, in deep conversation. As they approached, Nymphy gave a nod and disappeared into the water, warping out of sight.

‘Where’s she going?’ Silver asked, rushing forwards. ‘What have you sent her to do, slime?’ she said, pressing her face close to his so that he coughed on the lingering coils of smoke escaping her mouth.

‘I didn’t send her anywhere,’ the boy said quietly, stepping back. ‘I told her about something, and she went to see if she could have a look at it.’

Poetry

Mirror diary

But what if I want to make my own choices?

Briar Rose said

as the fairies offered to hide her in the woods

away from all spindles.

What if the kiss that wakes me if I do succumb

isn’t welcome on my lips?

What if I refuse

to acknowledge the curse at all?

What if I can control my fate

without magic

without fear

without giving in?

What if

my story is not how it’s told?