My first poem published in a magazine

The Dawntreader Magazine

An arctic blast in early spring
from Gaia’s violent play. 
No moderation does she bring, 
only gale and gust and fury. 

Her breath slows its hasty harass. 
Silvern frost dusts the swards. 
Daffodils and crocus mass 
and bump their flowery heads. 

Nature sparkles in her bling, 
swift to anger. 
Then she ends her angry fling; 
 becomes serene and tender. 

She’s Greek like some chimera 
 inconsistent, often frigid. 
In Rome we called her Terra. 
Stern in civic virtue , also rigid. 

Complex though seeming inorganic 
she overwhelms the organismic 
with climate, which can destroy, 
violate her play and leave her arid. 

We call it weather and it can kill 
 Inconsistent as the woman patriarch’s defame. 
They call her home—our mother world. 
Then proceed to slow and sullen matricide. 

Printed in Dawntreader Magazine in spring 2019. Published by Indigo Dreams

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Saint Brexit

As with many people who paint and draw I also write. Much of this is poetry or prose-poetry. I enjoy trying to construct the complex imagery in a poem, without having to rely heavily on narrative, plot and characterisation.

Most of my work strives for imagery and rythmic use of words, and much of it is very personal in subject matter. Some does address wider subjects, where they catch my interest. Unsurprisingly the recent referendum vote which will change our relationship with the rest of Europe at the behest of a narrow majority of petty English nationalists, peppered with a sprinkling of bigots, caught my attention. I have chosen to express my outrage in what I would describe as a prose poem, mainly because my use of metaphor consisting of the religious customs surrounding bones of venerated individuals mixed with the rituals of an even earlier era when individuals were sacrificed to guarantee their god’s favour for tribe and the expectation of a good harvest. The imagery is consistent with the metaphor. The text only has a very loose narrative and is too short to develop a plot.

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Ariel’s First Post – the tragedy of Sylvia Plath

And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.
Sylvia Plath, “Ariel” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1960, 1965, 1971, 1981 by the Estate of Sylvia Plath. Editorial matter copyright © 1981 by Ted Hughes..

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The photographs document the obvious stages in my most recent painting. The work is painted  in acrylic paint on canavas. The composition was assembled from three different sketchbook drawings. The drawings were copied lightly in pencil and then outlined in an intense violet mixed with a small amount of Prussian Blue. Two thin washes of colour were then applied over the drawing. A cool lemon yellow from the top left corner diagonally to the centre of the canvas.

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