Friday, 29 July 2011

keys again

I knock and wait patiently
it is very quiet
maybe no-one is home
no doors bang
no footsteps approach
no rustling of movement behind the door
just the tiniest of scratchings as someone strives repeatedly to put a key in the lock

Thursday, 28 July 2011

out of body experience

a forlorn and disgruntled postlady stands on the street corner
seriously contemplating alternative careers,
but resigns herself to the job in hand,
consults the map, mutters expletives
and sets off down an unexplored road.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

dried banana

I can't persuade her to say 'banana' but
she pops both pieces swiftly into her mouth
and with a winning smile
holds out both hands for two more

Tuesday, 26 July 2011


the frantic scrabble of claws on the tarmac path
gives me a split second warning of it's approach

Monday, 25 July 2011

flying caterpillars

beneath a single tree
drifting in the gentle breeze
dozens of tiny tiny caterpillars
dangle from invisible threads.
are they practicing ready for when they get their wings?

Sunday, 24 July 2011

through the bedroom window

sounds drift in:
at night, sirens and fireworks
this evening, children playing
and the neighbours chatting and laughing with friends

Saturday, 23 July 2011

wrong key

in the space of three seconds:
a dread sick feeling engulfed me as I wiggled the key in the lock
and it didn't open,
my brain ran through all the possible eventualities,
and then the wash of relief followed when I realised
it was the wrong key.

Friday, 22 July 2011


two beautiful white horses
with white feather plumes
pull a white hearse.
for just a moment I expected to see Snow White in her glass casket,
instead there is a simple wicker coffin.
three limousines follow.

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

mended puncture

the distant approach of a peculiar man
wheeling two bicycles
lifts my damp and weary spirits

Monday, 18 July 2011


we step out into the evening rain
and have to tiptoe around dozens of tiny yellow snails
scattered across the pavement like fallen leaves

Sunday, 17 July 2011

the sea

I look up from my book to find the sea outside the train window
nondescript dull grey apart from the tiny sparkles
where the sunshine breaks through the thick cloud cover

Saturday, 16 July 2011

at mum and dad's

morning tea
weak and sweet
in a blue and white willow patterned
cup and saucer

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

travelling home

apart from two bedraggled and unpruned rose bushes
the long neglected platform is more like a summer meadow
scattered with long grasses and tiny red and yellow wildflowers

Saturday, 9 July 2011


a huge brown slug stretches his head up
mottled skin glistening
its tentacles protruding
searching the air
it is faintly disgusting
and yet

Friday, 8 July 2011


siamese, beautiful, delicate cream with black tips
incongruous in the scruffy garden
nuzzles around my ankles
and stretches languorously at my feet

Thursday, 7 July 2011

daughter again

giggling over purchases
and sharing chocolate
she still lets me link arms
as we walk along

Wednesday, 6 July 2011


thunder reverberates across the sky
but keeping its distance
until the sudden cloudburst
catches me unawares

Tuesday, 5 July 2011


skulking in the background,
lurking behind my eyes,
stealing in,
then nagging,
settling in for the duration.

Monday, 4 July 2011

Saturday, 2 July 2011


the small gathering of people pray futilely
across the road from the Marie Stopes clinic
I bite my tongue and refuse the proffered rosary
without a polite smile

Friday, 1 July 2011