Poetry

Onward we go

Green, the smell of pine

as we tread needles into the ground

on our stroll about the forest on the edge of the year.

The new can be seen from over the way,

only the trickle of an old river

keeping it separate now.

Yet in a few hours,

the trickle will stop,

and the seedlings of trees will shoot up into saplings

in a whoosh of  breath, colour

and cheer.

We will step together, hand in hand,

onto the fresh forest floor

ready to take in its delights and terrors

as one.

Poetry

Grey Rainbows

Mountains rooted either side of my neck today,

watered by the grey clouds circling above.

The orange was mocking and overbearing,

a sour fruit

bereft of all zest.

It painted my mood with sepia,

and I worried it would stay that way,

conscious of what it may cause me to do.

But you were patient

and willing to overlook,

happy in the knowledge that I at least knew

what I was like

slumped against the day.

You brought rivers of music,

chestfuls of laughter

and an evening of family chatter and games.

The colours of myself returned

and wrapped me in a warm blanket

embroidered with pieces of your heart.

Poetry

Tied Up

Every plait

can be separated

out into the individual strands

that make it.

No matter how long they’ve been bonded for.

 

These strands can then go

on to make new bonds

or hang freely

to

catch

the sweetness of the air.

 

Growing stronger than vines,

lush as wild forests.

Why should they tame themselves

for the benefit of others –

small, preserved, squashed –

 

when they can fan out as they please,

dancing on light toes

throughout the day?

Poetry

Winded

Life can wind you even when you’re already struggling to breathe.

A sour taint that has you reaching for the super glue

to try and stick yourself back together,

though at first you hesitate, the thought that this is your fault

and not just something that’s been hiding in secret for a long time

waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike

staying your hand.

 

But the breath you’re seeking will return and fill your lungs to full capacity

with fresh, clean air

and not the toxic fumes you’ve been inhaling for so long.

Your beaten self will revive and flourish

in ways you never knew it could.

You just need time.

Poetry

And here we are

The scum around the bath is easily scrubbed away,

the ceramic clean enough to be white again.

Paint tins, brushes, rollers –

evidence of our romp with the walls

clear for any onlooker. Sweet sugared soap

purges away the grime of long life,

Artex to mask the imbalance. Spongy bounce

under our feet. That’s more like it.

Spread our toes to feel the pile. New.

Home at last.

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Exciting news

Hey everyone, I just wanted to announce that I’ve signed with a small online publisher for one of my middle-grade books, Unofficial Detective, the first book in my Half-Wizard Thordric trilogy (hopefully, they’ll take on books 2 and 3 as well). You can find an extract of it here.

It’s just going through the editing process now, but soon we’ll start working on cover design and layout, which I’m rather excited for.

Anyway, just thought I’d post a quick update – more news to follow!

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Expectations of the Homo Sapien has a new cover!

Recently, I was introduced to Canva.com by the Facebook page Books Go Social, and discovered that I could make my own ebook covers either for free, if I didn’t use any images, or at a small fee ($10) if I used an image and wanted it for multiple uses. So, after much deliberation (well, not too much, because I knew it needed to be done) I made a new cover for my novelette, Expectations of the Homo Sapien, a story about a young professor attempting to teach the working classes evolution in Victorian England – a task which doesn’t go too well.

I knew my old cover didn’t really give any hints about what genre the story was in, and though I liked it for its simplicity, it didn’t have any intrigue to it at all:512ckcMx6aL

So I decided to make one with an image and font that gave a sense of the time period. Here’s what I ended up with:

A Novelette

The setting of the image is similar to one detailed in the story, and I like how the model appears to be waiting, or indeed, expecting, something, which I thought worked well with my title. I also love how dark the room is, because even though the story isn’t really dark, it does have its moments.

Anyway, I’m quite pleased with the results and find the new cover much more appealing. The Kindle version is live on Amazon now (though for some reason, when posting links on Facebook, the old cover still shows up in the page preview), and the paperback version should be live in a few days.

Poetry

A painting of Venus

Opening up like a cracked

walnut shell

yearning to peek at the world,

you see a flash of blue satin

dance across the sky.

Tides rise high

and crash

with soft flecks

against your cheek,

staining your skin

with rainbows.

Under your feet

the earth shifts

to accommodate your scent.

It has known you

always,

but now

you have changed.

It must know you again.

Poetry

The Eager and the Patient

When the door opens

Out bounds

The bumbling bundle of bouncing energy

Wagging its tail

With flaming, eager, sightless eyes.

Uncontrollable happy smiles

Brim from its jowls

Demanding cuddles.

 

Behind, the experienced one sits

Keen gaze fixed on the attention

The blind bundle receives.

Foolish. Untrained. Impulsive.

But sometimes worth indulging

In a game of tug o’ war.

Part of the family now,

After all.