Liam was beyond hearing me, trapped in a world of touch, scent and taste, but the liquid sloshing around in the stoneware jar I carried was just a temporary state for him. Each touch of the misty air and dew on the grass drew a faint glow from my skin and awakened my senses. Moonlight, bright enough to cast shadows, glinted off the river up ahead where she wound through the valley in tight, sweeping curves. Over the bubbl...

This morning I got up at 7:50am, watched the news (well, BBC Breakfast, but close enough) while eating my breakfast. I worked crunching number for an education organisation (I’m an office temp) for six hours, bar a half hour lunch break. On said lunch break I read a few more chapter of Dante’s Inferno: A retelling in prose*. At 3:00pm I headed home to switch bags and catch the bus into the city centre to go to the library...

“You girls have work to do.” The six Girl Guides reluctantly sloped away from the fence that separated our pitch from the neighbouring one where a group of scouts kicked a football about. They walked past me to the QM tent where I was about to set them preparing lunch and one of them, Gemma, shot me a glare. “You won’t be giving me that look when those boys start giving you trouble.” I handed her a loaf of bread and some...

I recently lost two relatives who I was not close to. I have also been thinking a lot about separation and the reasons behind it. This poem is about making amends and finding peace before it’s too late. Souls like lights, travel through space,Trails crossing, lighting the face,Of the beautiful world they roam,This rich and varied Earth called home.Each soul we touch with recognition,On our core leaves an impression.If we...

When troubles plagueAnd you know not the way,To the Man in the MoonYou have to say.All on your mind,Leave nothing out,Just talk and talk,Till he’s nothing to doubt.Give all the piecesAnd lay down to sleep,While ponders the manAnd thinks so deep,That in the morningThe answers he’ll knowAnd if you listenYour path he’ll show.~ Inspired by the 1991 film of the same name.

There was once a little bird and she lived free and explored the world. If someone offered her a crumb she would sing and fly for them to make them smile. Late one spring, she found someone who loved her songs and the shimmering sun on her wings so much he would come every day to his window with crumbs of cake to encourage her back. Some days she came, other days she flew around elsewhere, doing other things. She alighted...

Steam rose from the paper cup sitting on the low table by Derek’s knees. He watched the coffee scented mist swirl into the air while people bustled around him; chatting, laughing, eating. He could hardly sit still for the excitement of seeing her after so many weeks. The answers he’d been looking for came out of the blue in the end. All he’d needed was a little space, just like he’d said. He’d expected the epiphany to hap...

Mist swirls.Every sense strainsto catch a glimpse. A movement.Spinning towards,Find you smilingAll is well.Then probe too deep.Into the mist vanish.Waiting anxiously.No point in searching;The mist conceals.No way to reach you.Then out of this mist,Returning once more.My heart swells,Concerns war.Should I ask or avoid?Tendrils of mistObscure your eyes.Can't read you.One touchOf a sensitive spotAnd you are gone again.Catchi...

Crisp, brittle dune grass scratched against my jeans as I hiked up the slope. Molly followed behind on her leash, head down, her soft, floppy ears drooping even more than normal. I reached the top of the dune and scanned the horizon; nothing but more dunes as far as I could see in one direction. Pale, sickly sunlight filtered through the thickening clouds that had drifted in from the coast in the last half hour. It didn’t...

Lady was not a very clever cat. She was getting a little old, she had lost a few teeth and she dribbled a bit. She often forgot things like what she was doing or where she was going. She lived with another cat called Holly in a house with a family of people. Holly was strong and athletic. She liked to hunt animals in the garden and bring them home, even full grown rabbits sometimes, which she had to drag through her cat f...

Why resist,When I am clay in your hands to mould?You forge my shape. Why hope,When tears elicit no pity or mercy?You are cold to me. Why try,When all the ways out are closed off?You hold all the keys. Why play,When it always plays out the same way?You win and I lose. Why?Because.

In June 2010 a freak fire gutted a 16th Century farmhouse in Hampshire. During the renovation following the disaster the owners found, concealed beneath the floorboards, the diary of one Joseph Mortimer; a thirty-seven year old land owner of modest holdings, who died in 1583. The details of his fate are vague and his body was never found. Below is presented the final entry. The language has been updated somewhat, but an e...