I thought my executive function was on holiday, turns out it’s missing in action

I need to do the housework today, but now I’ve had a knife shaped letter prodding me in the ribs, there’s no room in my brain for anything else. What am I doing? Cleaning the birds? Emptying the bins? I seem halfway through both, but how did I get here? Oh, look, the laundry, I’ll do that today. Time to hoover. Mind is racing, letter thoughts stabbing, stabbing, what way am I facing? Oh, yes, the hoover. Move all the things. It’s raining outside. Why am I in the kitchen again? The hoover is in the lounge. Oh look, the laundry, I must do that today. What about the washing up? Ah, those plastic pots in the sink are recyclable, I’ll just put them in the…oh, I forgot to get the bin bags from the other room. I’ll just go and get them–no, hoovering first. Done! Now I can do the washing up and put those pots in the bin…once I get the bags. Finally, I’ve finished. Phew…

Oh look, the laundry.

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Leviathans

For giants who once wandered the earth,

their bones are sure elusive.

Yes, the snow may be deep,

the sand too quick,

the volcano about to erupt,

but you’d think their brilliant remains

would declare themselves like beacons.

Not so, once again to the map I go,

so scribbled and crossed out it’s barely legible.

I hear the doctor snort, and casually he hands me the real map

and removes my brain scan from my grasp.

British Summertime

Dawn approaches and my ears are filled with wailing,

the shrill cry of a cat

defending its territory.

 

A crow laughs outside the window.

 

In my dream state

I wonder if it’s going to fly in and pay us a visit,

pondering why,

in this heat,

we’re fighting to find cover

that we don’t really want.

 

Perhaps it will repeat the phrases we spent so many weeks uttering

in winter:

why does it have to be so cold?

if only it was summer!

I’ll be happy once it gets warm again.

 

And then gather it’s buddies

in a chorus of cawing,

just to make sure we’re not tempted to try and sleep

when the sun rises and sucks the air from our lungs.

Just a snack

Today I saw a snail sneaking swiftly across the stones,

avoiding the fountain’s incessant drops,

its eye stalks locked-on to the shrooms.

It thought no-one was looking, but I saw it take a bite.

I think the shroom might have been magic,

because then the snail decided to climb up on a kite.

Game on

When the muse strikes I play tennis with her,

inevitably hitting the ball so hard

it collides with her face and knocks her out.

Oops.

Unofficial Detective has been shortlisted!

Hello everyone, today I received an email notifying me that my debut, Unofficial Detective, has been shortlisted for the Books Go Social Readers’ Choice book of 2017!

If you would like to vote for it, or check out the other shortlisted books, you can do so here.

Happy reading!

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.

Dedications

For my missing sock; the remaining one will never forget you.

To the monster in the attic who always made me run to the bathroom.

In memory of all the balloons I’ve accidentally let go of.

For the secret agents who secretly cheer me on.

To the elderly gentleman who waves his walking stick at me everyday. What a friendly guy!

Magic!

I have a ball of magic,

right here in my hand,

and if I wish upon it,

I can create enormous

dunes of sand.

 

Or whole fields of vibrant poppies

that wave to me in the wind,

and I can even make a robot

by magicking together

my collection of used tins.

 

Sometimes I sit and wonder,

‘What do I have this power for?’

Then a flood of ideas fill my head

and all I can think of

is creating more!

 

Parking ticket

Mind the clock

as the ticket-master

prepares to drop

 

the white leaf

onto the window;

a grim flash of teeth.

 

Upholding his duty.

The passenger inside flares

her nostrils at this cruelty

 

and in a flash of skirts

rises from her seat

to kick him where it hurts.