This is where I put my written works
This is a series of letters I wrote to work through some very personal feelings I had locked away. They were a way for me to process events in my life. You can find out more about this process here. […]
Letters I never sent: Dear Dad (1) Read More »
I wrote this for a PASTA night in Wolverhampton. PASTA is a free monthly event organised by Poets, Prattlers and Pandemonialistsis, it’s an; Open mic night with a difference. Each month we meet at the Arena Theatre and ask people to
Sheer unspeakable strangeness Read More »
I’ve always loved animals. When I was 5, we lived in this flat over a shop. We couldn’t have a dog or a cat; we wouldn’t have been able to afford to feed them anyway, but Christmas day came, and
1970 – The Great Mouse Murder Read More »
I remember, sometime in the past, that taste in my mouth of my lover’s flesh
That moment you wake and find you’re not alone and smile
That hand, that caress when it’s still dark and quiet
Tracing the line of someone’s back in the low light
Kissing a neck in the middle of the night
This was a short story written for the Stourbridge Writers Group. Theme: Autumn Colours and Aliens (either or both) “The transformation England goes through as it moves from its warmest period, Summer, to its coldest period, called Winter, is iconic.”
Note: Writing this blog or reverse diary makes me realise I’ve never reflected much on what I’ve lived through and usually only through storytelling to others. I’m not writing it in any order, one memory triggers another, but I will
1976 – The Social worker, the Consultant and the Brain Tumour Read More »
I wrote this for a PASTA night in Wolverhampton. PASTA is a free monthly event organised by Poets, Prattlers and Pandemonialistsis, it’s an; Open mic night with a difference. Each month we meet at the Arena Theatre and ask people
It’s not about the sunshine Read More »
Being alone is not the worst. Though loneliness can leave you hurting, wanting, hunting for that moment, which used to be filled, and warm and safe. Missing someone you took for granted, like that herb garden you lovingly planted, only
New friends are hardNew friends are unfamiliarAnd they bring magic, laughter and life into my heart I overthink so muchI overstep and risk a lossAnd they see past my cluelessness and see I care We bow and bendWe find our
My heart has learned to beat again, so long it sat in a spare room with little joy, with bacon fat and lard filling the spaces where love, hope and care should be. I’d stopped believing I was worthy of
As I write this disclaimer, I wonder if I’ll ever click publish on this very personal article, one of the hardest I’ve written. It was the beginning of self-loathing, ultimately leading to isolation, esteem issues and depression later in life.
1977 – Circumcision and Trauma Read More »
To quicken, to burn brighter To stimulate, to set a flame If you quicken me, I will quicken you I feel it when I say your name You have my heart, so please take care I know it’s safe, you have my trust I have only
I have a second shadow that never leaves my side A space between, a place I’ve seen and love to keep aliveIt’s always welcome, even though I find from time to time, It can slip from my sight, and then I wander
Once upon a time, I was in a Beatles tribute band called the Moondog Beatles. During my 4 years in the band, there were a lot of stories to tell, good and bad, but this is by far the most
1998 – Up Around the Mountain – a band story Read More »
When I was 9, Mom managed to get a job cleaning a few hours a night, a couple of nights a week. It was a rare period during her illness when she was doing better, and, of course, the money
1974 – Fire on the 11th Floor Read More »