Losing myself through reading; Finding myself through writing.
At the recent meeting of my local writers group, we were provided with the word remembering as a writing prompt. Sometimes just one word can bring a whole emotional outpouring from my pen… so here we go. An image of a woman’s hand holding a Polaroid photo with a sepia image of a grandfather holding… Continue reading Remembering
Her eyes are heavy. She isn’t sure if she slept or just dozed. Everything is still and quiet. She’d only drifted over, she thought. Or maybe she had slept for hours. It was hard to know. Through her parting lashes, a soft flickering light from her mobile phone sitting on the bedside locker gently guides… Continue reading Night Feeds
Gently you place the recognisable paper cup beside me. But it’s not just a coffee. It’s a warm and welcome rescue on a day that blooms from a restless night and meltdowns; It’s a reminder that you have my back, you will be there to catch me just before I fall, and bring me back… Continue reading Not just a coffee…
I stared at myself in the tall mirror, awkwardly positioned just adjacent to the door of the female toilets. The five minutes that I had stolen away for some calm were quickly draining away. My self-induced ceasefire was hastily disappearing and soon I would be back in the midst of friendly fire filled with ‘you… Continue reading ‘Til death do us part?
Day 4 of the John Hewitt International Summer School finished. What an amazing, inspiring and creative week… thought I would put together a little story of my journey so far … Little Bird The slight lip of the sun peaked from just beyond the horizon. Pearls of dew glistening on top of tranquil green leaves.… Continue reading Little Bird
She knows when he is nearby. She doesn’t have to hear him or see him. There is that fresh fragrance with a hint of deep, strong wooden undertones. It is crisp and clean. The smell of sweet pine on a Spring day. And underneath that reoccurring yet not permanent essence is another homely aroma. So… Continue reading Her lifeline
“Not even a kiss goodbye” my lips coyly poised as he leaned forward and took hold of the handle. The heat of his breath intimate against my face. The door opened out onto a gravel yard. A pathway made by the back and forth tracking of different comers and goers lay ahead. “Happy Valentine’s Day”… Continue reading Broken Soles
Wee Bubble of Books 