She put me on her mantelpiece,

a place I could watch the world –

Her world.   

I’ve watched her through her happy days,

and sleep through thunder and hail.

She sang sometimes

and even cried.

Sometimes she shouted, but

That was alright.


She put me on her mantelpiece,

all those years ago.


Her loving eyes poured into me,

moments where I’d hold my breath,

and trace the new lines on her face

and new pendant around her neck.


She left one day,

a sunny day,

and she didn’t come back home.

Her parents packed,

boxed up the flat,

until her room became a place

I couldn’t call home.


Still, she put me on the mantelpiece,

a place I could watch the world.

She left me on the mantelpiece,

All those years ago.



A Star

The closest ones are the furthest.

Yes, I talk about stars –

though I know nothing of astronomy 

or space science. 

Though I may not know it,

I may be the furthest away

from this Earth right now. 

Or I wish to be the furthest star from here,

because Earth is too lonely a place

and I’d much rather find real solitude,  


and seclude, myself.


The Journal

Collecting all the things that shine

in a journal that neither can be opened 

nor closed

The journal hangs its legs over the cliff of a shelf,

taunting, flaunting

her kingdom

Threatening to jump into the jagged spines of greed


There she goes: wings limp and ugly and flailing 

The jagged spines of greed below ready to greet her

and claw out her torso

Their fangs bleed into her, soften the impact,

welcome her like a stain on a page.

Their breaths collide as they take turns to complete the welcoming.

She is haggard, empty and ugly –

She is betrayed, betrayed by her body

and sinful misuse of these words

and betrayed by the ones who touch her

and betrayed for the sacred sin that she is

for she betrayed the mirror that is the journal

and the journal shall not reach

the Gates of Heaven

as it cannot guard the secrets of the kingdom.

Midnight’s Garden

Racing under the Moon’s shadow

while owls whisper to the leaves,

and Midnight’s rabbits work work work

Nature’s garden weeps,

from time to time and time again:

whispering to her darlings

grow, grow, grow…

Then the magical beans prosper

and defend their mighty ground

where the rabbits and owls can lie peacefully.

You can hear Midnight’s garden


Souls converging to one:

beat, beat, beat