Poetry

Risen

Morning breeze parts the motes

Over the bed

Leaving the figure breathing

Even air, eyelids flutter as lungs fill.

Cobwebs act as puppet strings

Under the withered arms

Lifting the figure’s frame,

Enticing it to live once more.

 

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Poetry

Diamond Set

The line of perfect teeth, concave only enough

to let out gentility

forcibly chews back all trace

of inner self.

 

Rigid, she must sit,

all sides a front, from the microscopic details of her sequined gown –

armour hidden in plain sight –

to the softness of her cheeks as she regards her counsellors

bent on tearing down

all she is trying to achieve.

Poetry

Witch hat?

Out of the ground it springs,

plump, spongy flesh with a wide brim

and pointed tip.

Or should I take the one over yonder, floating on the night black road

beaming silver and tangerine?

Perhaps the shining brass one, left behind by the marching band

complete with player’s spittle.

The daffodil’s trumpet, or the acorn’s cup,

the nightcap of the old magician.

No, no, no!

None of these are suitable for my hat.

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It’s publication day! Accidental Archaeologist: Half-Wizard Thordric Book Two is finally out!

Accidental-Archaeologist-Promo-Hardback-Ereader

As the title of this post would suggest, book 2 in my Half-Wizard Thordric series is now available to buy. Currently, it’s only on Kindle, but in a week or so the paperback will also be available. It’s rather exciting! If you love fantasy, plenty of humour, quests and YA reads, then this may be for you.

However, here’s the blurb just in case you’re not convinced yet:

Three years have passed since Thordric joined the Wizard Council. Together, with High Wizard Vey, they have reformed the council completely.

But while half-wizards can now train their magic freely and join the ranks of the mages, Thordric realizes that there are many who are completely unaware of this. Traveling to the faraway town of Valley Edge, he meets the young archaeologist Hamlet, who is traveling to a dig site where a new discovery has been made.

But not all is as it first appears, and once again Thordric has to put his magic to the test…in order to stop one of the greatest catastrophes their world has ever seen.

Poetry

Blood Magic

The world has changed,

the blood cries to me every night,

screaming through my veins

and the veins of my heirs.

It can feel the doors closing,

feel the separation, the desperation

the fear eating at people’s bones.

 

Old as I am, the locks have never been used.

A person could walk from here to the other side

and back again.

 

Yet orders have been given, magic has been stripped

and we have been exiled,

the youngest forced to spill their life force

to form the seal.

There will be no more of us now.

Poetry

Take a gander into the cup

See how they pool at the bottom,

writing out their sights so clearly,

leaf by leaf?

Only the finest china is used for this,

my student.

And you must brew it for exactly three minutes,

no more, no less.

Drain it fully,

the dregs will appear.

Tut, tut,

do not compare this fine art

to a charlatan’s crystal ball reading.

And no,

that is not a wonky cross.

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?