How re-subscribing has helped me write again

Okay, so it’s not just a new subscription (or, more accurately, a return to a subscription) that has helped me to write again. Lots of things have contributed, including a change in career & working hours, which has given me enough “head space” to read more. I took the decision to take another look at an old favourite, Mslexia magazine.

I’m glad I did; a brand new design with exciting content to match, writing prompts, opportunities and inspiring interviews. I had previously fell out of love with Mslexia because it had become a bit too feminist-socialist for my liking*.

So the new-look magazine has all sorts of writing prompts, both narrative fiction & non-fiction, flash fiction, poetry and more. One section of poetry was about formal verse, in particular, canzone, villanelle and sestina forms.

I love villanelle poems. I love the form and how so many poets have used them wittily to get their point across, or simply to entertain. (Link: an old post on villanelle poems)

A sestina poem was discussed in the magazine, and used as a writing prompt. The ever elusive “Regeneration” poem I have never seemed to fully perfect came running into my mind. So yet another re-write, or more accurately, a reworking of my original poem began:


These buildings were beautiful once
Still are, in a way
Lost in regenerative ideals
Apathy and contempt,
Forsaken, forgotten
left to rot and decay

Facades crumble with decay –
bricks and mortar once
steadfast, sniffed at with contempt
permissive planning ideals
left alone, forgotten
as Progress tried to carve its way

History and sentiment stand in the way
And gradings only help to further decay
these heartlands of deprivation, driving contempt
for districts once
grand and well-heeled. Ideals
of modernity packing old memories into forgotten

dusty boxes in rooms in forgotten
annals of office or apartment blocks that once
were a decay
in the mouth of a city already treated with contempt
as The Armpit of The North, a dirty hole to be hidden away
after decades of pursuing different ideals

too radical for the politicians, whose unforgotten ideals
once tough as iron now burn with the contempt of the The New Way
Regeneration is over; dig out the decay, plaster the cavity in paint


It’s still a bit clunky in parts, and I will work on that, but I think sestina poems might be my new poetry-crush!




*Now don’t read this wrong. I am a woman. I do not believe that I can only be “completed’ by a man (and yes, I am heterosexual), but neither do I buy into the opposite, the, “we must do everything by ourselves, forget men – in fact hate them all” Germaine Grier kind of feminism that has plagued women’s rights and women’s issues for decades.

I am a woman who believes that I can do anything through God who created me, and by Jesus’ death and resurrection. 

I also believe that we can all be feminists. Male and female. It’s a matter of perspective. That is what Mslexia has done so well in their re-design. They’ve shifted perspective – they are still feminists, but less “we hate men” and more “we can do this – who’s with us ladies!!”




Deadlines….I’ve done it!

Well my last post was almost 12 weeks ago, and at the time I had nothing in terms of a poem for my cousin and his fiancée.

About 2 weeks ago, I finished the poem! I still did what I usually do, wrote it, left it (for a couple of days instead of weeks!), wrote and edited it a bit more and…finished!

I have a small whiteboard in my bedroom which I bought ages ago as a sort of poem-mood-board come poetical sketchbook. I recommend getting a cheapish one to every part-time poet and even full-time ones! It’s a great thing to scribble a line or theme on, leave alone for a couple of days, yet always coming back to it, adding stuff to it and repeating the process until, voilà, a poem is conceived and born!

The final piece was well received by the couple who I gave the final draft to. I am now needing to rehearse it before the big day.

But at the moment, I have headresses to finish for my best friends wedding 4 days after my cousins’!  

Deadlines (or how this year is running out!)

Last August my cousin and his girlfriend got engaged (ya!). They have booked the wedding for September this year. 

A few months ago they asked me to do a reading – an absolute honor – and asked if I could write a poem for them. I said yes…

…then left it alone for AGES…

I wrote a line or two. Left it alone.

And realised that I haven’t read anything to influence or inspire me…I have 3 months to write a polished piece.

How I write is quite loose. I write a piece, either story or poem, leave it for a couple of weeks, review, re-write and repeat. I don’t have much time to do this. 

So I got out my anthology books with poetry about everything from apples to zoo keepers and everything inbetween and got to reading.

I’ve managed to get some inspiration from The Bard (Kiss Me Kate is right – you do have to brush up your Shakespear!) et al, but I have to get my head down and write!!!

Frida Kahlo & The Survivors of Symphysiotomy

Symphy- whatnow? I hear you say!

Some of you may have not heard of Frida Kahlow.

All of you will wonder why I’m putting the two together.

The following link will explain the latter – Beware some graphic descriptions

This link will explain Frida Kahlow a little better

What you may not know is that one of the handrails on the trolley-bus Frida was riding when the crash happened, ended up exiting her groin.

In 2010-2011, Pascale Petit ( published her fifth collection “What the Water Gave Me – poems after Frida Kahlow,” Poems inspired by Kahlow’s paintings (Petit is a visual artist by background), and often written in Kahlow’s voice – or something similar.

I saw Petit at the Cheltenham Literature Festival 2012, reading from the collection, and explaining some of Kahlow’s background. (It is also the first time I have ever been star-struck. A geeky way I know, but I stood there, having my copy signed and grinning like a loon! That is another story though)

In the collection is a poem called “Remembrance of an Open Wound,” the full poem can and should be read in “What the Water Gave Me” which also gives context, but this poem immediately came to mind when I read about the Symphysiotomy Survivors. Here is a small excerpt:

Neither of us knows
when the petrol tank will explode.
You say I’ve decorated my house
to recreate the accident –
my skeleton wired with fireworks,
my menagerie flinging air about.
…It’s time to pull the handrail out.
I didn’t expect love to feel like this –
you holding me down with your knee,
wrenching the steel rod from my charred body
quickly, kindly, setting me free.
(Pascale Petit, 2010)


Hopefully, out of all this will come good, and changes will happen to women’s health across the world.



Not quite MIA

Hi all,

I thought I’d stop by to ensure you don’t think I’ve gone Missing In Action!

The start of 2014 has just not started out as writing-friendly as I’d hoped. This is mainly down to tiredness and jewellery making. As in, I get home from work, make some jewellery and therefore, I’m too tired to even think about writing.

I realised that, actually, this may be a good thing at the moment.

I was becoming more stressed about NOT writing, it was causing me to not-write even more. So I stopped stressing, and stopped writing for a bit.

I’ve put pen to paper once or twice, nothing full or exactly polished, but it’s words and a semblance of poetry.

Maybe a little later in the year…

Watch this space!


back and blogging

Its been about three weeks (or there abouts) since I last posted anything. I have been running up the wall with all sorts of things. A family wedding and a family 21st birthday party within a week of each other hasn’t helped with blogging time, plus, I have been busy with my other creative self and have been making jewellery and beading goodies (see more at

I know it’s a few days late, but I want to add my little tribute/obituary to the late great Seamus Heaney. He was one of my great 20th century poet-heroes ever since I read his poetry in school at sixteen. “Half-term break” being one of my favourite poems. The world is a quieter place now, but is a richer place from his influence. I have found a rather fitting tribute sonnet over on Roy Marshall’s (poet) blog,

And to the best British satirist-broadcaster-journalist-reporter of over 60 years, David Frost who died Saturday 31st August He did so much, he became a tour-de-force in the media world – most famously bringing Richard Nixon to a rather candid confession on the Watergate Scandal years after he was ousted. So, Sir David Frost who helped to launch (wider known) careers of the likes of Ronnie’s Corbet & Barker and John Cleese to name a few through his satirical sketch show, The Frost Report, all I can say is, Goodbye, Goodnight, RIP.

Picture it and write – sweet dreams

A couple of weeks ago, Ermilia ( posted the following picture up for Picture it and Write


Click here for the full details

Well, it took me all that time to think of something to write. I knew I had to because it was such an inspiring picture (and quite possibly, I may write more under this inspiration).

Well, this is what I have initially started with. It’s a little dark and surreal but it is also inspired by my own dreams. Please note, due the theme in this, I suggest this not be read by under-16’s

Sweet Dreams

Dreams float on water currents

Tracking rivers to the source

Travels like backpackers in foreign lands

Resting like former royalty in once grand beds and chambers

Trapped as a sleeping princess

Awaiting Prince Charming

Trudging thigh-high in dank water

Pulling nightmares away

Soothing the distress from

What was witnessed by the owl and the pussycat

Kissing her awake to the sound of

Waterfalls and troubled waters

Then carry her to her own

Satin-covered four-post bed.

Picture it and write – Masqueless

With a great thanks to for another wonderful suggested picture for this week’s picture it and write.


Click here  for the link to this week’s picture it and write and to read more about this picture


I slipped my shell; bone hard


Exposed my real self; fragile

Vulnerable in this thick dark water

The only light from my alabaster

Heart hammering signals in Morse-code

SONAR warning of enemy shipwrecks

With faces like my old self

This blackness doesn’t frighten me

My past is easily left there

The future is somewhere ahead

Picture it & write – Online presence

Before you read this, you Must See this week’s picture it & write over on  if you don’t read it, nothing that follows will make much sense! Hope you enjoy!

Hope this finds you well                                                       You are? Oh,

Facebook recommends                                                       friend of a friend

On top five                                                                            mutual acquaintance-

List of interesting                                                                  strangers, stalking

Profiles and facts                                                                  ex-lovers, gossip

About you, your life                                                                public, unsecure

On-line                                                                                   breached


I was once a friend                                                                 Sometime ago

Of your brother                                                                       Frankie dated her

He doesn’t seem to be                                                           daily stalked him

On Facebook                                                                          after they broke up


Is he okay?                                                                              Disappeared off-line

I haven’t seen him around                                                       Moved county

Tell him I said hi                                                                     Not a word

And that me and you are now friends                                   She’s mad

I.M. you later!                                                                         Block – right now

Goodbye!                                                                               Goodbye!

Picture It & Write – TARDIS strikes again

I left a poem by the kettle. Had to go back to the TARDIS to retrieve it.

This one is in response to: 10th June 2012;


Wet pages


Words run from the page

Like red dye from a sock


Separated from sentence and structure

Evade recapture


Reform to drift on tides

Of time and metre


Metaphors slip through fingers

Land with splashes of delight

That ripples like a tidal wave in Lilliput


If I were a poet

I would immerse myself in such things


Court charming nouns

Make art from recycled water drops