Ever since each of us were small we have encountered the repeated emphasis on the two, or three or even five year plan. Initially this is framed within education, getting through GCSE's, A-level's, Higher Education. Thereafter we enter the world of work and are faced...
the problem wasn’t the red rag, or the green, blue or violet, the problem was the bull and it’s propensity for violence the problem wasn’t the china that lay dormant upon the shelves, the problem was the shopkeeper whose doorkey let dominance prevail /Image by 51581...
It can be easier to explain. To state how things are. With only six words, or less. Condense life chapters to six words. Mine would look like this. Do share yours. every bright moment matters cherish now, time is too short expansive lives confined to boxes floodgates...
In my work I don't make anything I can hold in my hands, it's like being a time capsule made up only of stories. I like to imagine poems as some kind of repair shop, where moments of lives once forgotten, left to waste, disgraced, are written back into existence. As...
we have been stuck in the longest of springs one which has offered only pockets of sunshine teasing us with meagre crumbs almost mean in being so fleeting we have been mostly cold mostly indoors or wrapped in layer upon layer so when the sun shows her face we barely...
You may find the term 'puddling' somewhat puzzling. And I'd be with you there, as it's the clunky translation for the French term 'Flacking', which itself emerged in 2016 to describe the covert art form of repairing potholes with creative mosaics. The work of French...
empty chair everyone skirted beautifully around what was his chair choosing the garden seat instead, brought into the lounge for the mourners a respectful honouring of his cosy corner his much -loved place yet she, child with the innocent eyes flung herself freely...
I only visit now places you live where there are no bodyguards I only go now to open spaces where there are no doors, to be shown and closed. I circumvent round the gatekeepers who patrol like circling birds of prey watching with piercing eyes for signs of dissent or...
I watched recently how an artist creates a painting. All that was there at first was the faintest of sketches, on a blank canvas. Our biographies are a bit like this. The first lines drawn, the first markers of what makes up a life. But then the layers come. Great...