Where is April going?

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How on earth is it the 20th April already…

I’ve been keeping up (just) with my badge-earning for PoMoSco, but definitely need to have a good final push these last ten days to get my sash nice and full!

In other news, I was delighted to have a poem accepted by Peeking Cat Poetry, and I’m included in Issue 5, available to purchase or download now. This is the first poem I’ve had accepted into a journal like this, and I am incredibly excited. The fact that it’s cat-related is even more perfect (purrfect?), coming from a complete cat-aholic.

So, here’s to a very busy ten days, and fingers crossed I can get my final challenges in before the deadline!

Back to PoMoSco!

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After a small break in proceedings with posting links here, we’re back to full-scale PoMoSo activity, with today’s piece being “Unexplored Paris”. Paris is a city I’ve always loved, and felt a strong sense of belonging in, so it was interesting to see where this piece took me!

There’s still writing for NaPoWriMo challenges going on in the background, but this weekend I finally managed to finish the first re-write of my draft novel, a big deal for me!



And finally, Day Five, Poem Five!!! April is definitely proving a prolific month on the writing front – I may not be posting all the drafts from NaPoWriMo, but they’re filling up the notebook, and some should find their way onto here for the rest of the month…

But for now, Tinted!


In our minds, as in life, do things become clearer,
as we step back, take in the bigger picture?

Or do rose and green tints thicken,
leaving us to create our own memories
from the scraps we have left?

A fragment here, a patch there,
begged, borrowed and stolen
until a picture we are happy with begins to form.

Gossip and false tales become solid, hard facts
as we hope we remember which memories
were fashioned from which friend’s story,
lest with a hint of embellishment,
we tell them our version
of their tale.

A drink to Richard

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Day Four, Poem Four, and today, a poem I wrote while I was in Leicester. Still very much in draft form, but I can see where I want it to go… I have, in the last ten minutes, put the finishing touches to the first full edit of my draft novel, and am feeling celebratory. So this is to the star of that novel!

A drink to Richard

Leicester Central Travelodge is allegedly built on the site
of the old Blue Boar Inn, the final place
where Richard laid his head, rested,
before Destiny called him to battle.
As he ‘slept ill in strange beds’,
on 20th August 1485 he settled
in the ‘large gloomy chamber’, filled
with his own great bed.

Tonight, in the bar, I sip red wine, think
about ‘my’ Richard: the man, not the myth,
who had a troubled night here, fretting
about what danger may lie ahead.
Later, crawling between pristine sheets
I wonder what became of his, abandoned
as England turned from white to harsh blood red.
Did one shield him, at the end, protecting
what dignity he had been allowed to keep?
He could have had one of mine, I think,
as I switch off the light, descend into sleep.

Just another Mundane Monday

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Day Three, Poem Three…

Just another Mundane Monday

Sitting, waiting, impatiently
for something, anything to happen.
But not this.
This wasn’t in the plan –
this wasn’t “what we signed up for.”

And what tricks our minds play,
as we think back, force ourselves
to remember the moment
which stood still and fell apart,
which flitted by, yet will last forever.

As time passes, tendrils of memory
lose their grip on what seemed so solid,
as wisps of reality are blown away
on the softest of breaths.

We try to hold on, cling tight
to the wreckage in our minds,
sift through the fragments –
but our point of reference is lost.

Our memory fails.

A grimy kind of love…

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Day Two, Poem Two! This is from Wednesday’s prompt in Mslexia, to write a love poem using elements of language not associated with love!

A grimy kind of love…

He smiles his grim smile, as we run,
sodden, through streets swimming with hatred.
We know this place well; it taxes us,
challenges us to see past the mould,
forget our sickened memories, and love.
In a lost, diseased town, we have it all,
skirting around calamity and disgust
to find our own little piece of heaven.
We have each other: we have it all.

Introduction to Diving

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Thanks to Sheree Mack for a lovely new challenge… To post five poems in five days – happily, these do not have to be freshly written!

The following is adapted from a PoMoSco challenge, but I’ve loosened the rules a bit in the edit, and although it’s still very much a work in progress, I can see where it’s going. This should form part of a small collection I’m working on, focusing on diving and the underwater world.

Introduction to Diving
After BSAC, 2002

Born as land creatures, armed with steel and lead,
we dip a toe, an ankle, then take the plunge.
Oceans are unleashed, serene seas serenaded
by our rhythmic breaths, in and out,
as regular as the tides we watch.

Be an underwater tourist today –
a pioneer of the shallow depths.
Play beneath the surface, exploring
the treasures of the deep:
natural and anthropogenic.

Rusting hulks bring new life, thriving
life, keeping the ghosts at bay.

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