Leave a Light On

In black and white, we saw the world

around us in flames, lives going out

like candles in a sandstorm,

Death racing

across acrid deserts with claws outstretched –

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Season of Mists and Mellow Fruitfulness

There is just something about this glorious Autumn weather that makes me want to don a Fair Isle sweater and go stomping off into the forest, all on my own. I want to crunch and kick my way through mountains of scarlet leaves and tilt my face to the golden sun as it trickles down through the canopy of oaks and beeches. I want to smell wood smoke on the wind, and let it take me down sweet winding paths of nostalgia, the echos of my childhood self laughing ahead of me as we go.

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Can you hear me, Josephine?

Can you hear me, Josephine?

Or does my voice dissolve into the gloaming,

A sad echo against the blackening trees. Remember,

It was you who asked me to come. Deep in the dark.

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The Girl With Red Hair

‘The girl with red hair,’ he said to his love,

And she smiled, though her eyes grew cold. 

‘She was the one, oh she was so much fun,

How cruel that she never grew old.’

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A Most Wicked Bird

On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, my father presented me with a magnificent bird, whose plumage would shame a sapphire. He knew that I had always adored birds, and had yearned for one of my very own. Enraptured, I opened the door to his golden cage and gently took him out. His sharp little…

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The Secret to Writing the Perfect Maid of Honour Speech

So how can you be charming, unique, memorable and moving? How can you get your beloved bride weeping happily and laughing into her monogrammed napkin, while the guests roar with approval and the groom faints with bliss? How can you write the perfect Maid of Honour speech? It’s not an easy task, but don’t worry; I have the answer.

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The Last Time

You’re a fool if you thought I would wait. 

It’s the last time I’ll let you be late.

I’ve licked the gin from my lips,

Brushed my skirt down my hips,

And now you will see how I hate.

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I have this splinter in my heart.

Cold and sharp, it makes me start.

It has no business being there,

I wish I could learn not to care.

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To Child, Or Not To Child?

Your hair would be a curly mane,

As dark as deepest night.

Your lips would be a cherry red,

Your eyes so blue and bright.

Your skin, the colour of spun gold,

As caramel as his,

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The Piscean Lament

There are two voices in my head,

One speaks white, the other red.

White says, “drink this glass of water,”

Red says, “whiskey would be hotter.”

They chat away, all day and night,

Let’s do wrong, or let’s do right.

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Love Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

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What Do Women Want?

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what’s underneath.

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