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Keep it Simple

Celebrated each year, today (21 March) is World Poetry Day. When I reflect on how many human beings there are in the world writing poems today, I feel both overwhelmed and humbled in our shared humanity and love for the lyrical word.

Writing poems can be transformative. It is a creative form that gives writers the ability to express deeply felt feelings, experiences and hopes in a sometimes hopeless world. Despite our uniqueness and the many divisions and disparities, much of what we feel and experience as being human is similar, especially our relationship with nature.

Sometimes the most uncomplicated poems can be the most effortless and turn out to be the most satisfying to craft. Below is my simple poem for today and above my recent collage painting.

Today 

Today I watched a woodpecker drilling the trunk of a birch tree. 

When he saw me, he hopped among the branches and in a red flash, flew away. 

Today I met with a friend whom I love for the man he is becoming.  

Today I drew a picture of my brain and was amazed by its complexity.

I marvelled at its intricacy, its many pathways and infinite potential. 

Today I ate a bowl of frozen cherries, their icy form a balm for my rasping throat.

Today I listened to a broken man who believes in assisted dying. 

When I offered him my fear, I discovered a wall between us.

Today I discovered  I can be brave to reach out my hand to a stranger.

Today I realised I can accept loss and be comfortable with what is. 

I know I am enough for myself, that it’s all I have and that is ok.

Today I heard a woodpecker drumming. Today my spirit soared.

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Why Do I Write?

As a writer, I find it useful from time to time to reflect on why I write, why I consistently spend hours writing (or trying to write), crafting words into short stories, poems and memoir pieces. Creative writing is hard … most writers I know agree. If it is so difficult, then why do I persist?

For me, writing is a quiet, solitary experience which I find soul enriching. But it can be lonely, is often frustrating and sometimes ignites powerful emotions that can be challenging to process. I can spend a lot of time trying to write and not arrive at a ‘finished piece’ … I might not even arrive at a sentence I feel content with. Despite this, I find the process of writing to be wholesome, energising, immensely rewarding, and fulfilling … this is why I persist at the craft.

Recently, I have been struggling with my writing and so this is a good moment to reflect and ask myself:

Q: Why do I want to write?

A: To get to know and remain connected to my inner self (my soul / my ‘being’) … and … to discover all there is to know about me as a ‘human’, a person with a personality and an ego (we all have one) and who experiences this world through her senses. To explore myself as a human and continue to grow and develop to be the ‘best’ I can possibly be.

Q: How do I feel when confronted with a blank page?:

A: Receptive to what might come from within and with a willingness to ‘go there’ … even if I am lured to the dark places. Hopeful I will learn something about myself. Content if nothing appears, but acknowledging that if I can scribble something … anything … and just get started, then words will eventually flow.

Q: Who am I writing for?

A: Primarily for myself, for the joy that comes during the process, but also for anyone who, if they choose to read my writing, may be helped in some small way … to discover something new for themselves or simply to discover joy too.

Q: What would I like others to feel when they read, or hear my words?

A: An emotion … some reaction that comes from within that may awaken them to a greater awareness of themselves and that this might generate feelings of compassion, wellbeing and empathy.

Q: What is my greatest need as a writer?

A: To experience connection with myself, but also with other writers through sharing and mutual respect, with no judgement, total acceptance and compassion.

Q: What blessings do I want to offer anyone who reads my writing and/or who would like to write themselves?

A: For them to feel connected to themselves, to love themselves as they are (without exception), to know they are loved as they are in this moment, to heal from past hurts and to encourage them to say through their own words the unsayable and to be heard.

I write from emotional depth and because of this, writing feels like I am taking a risk. I like this feeling even though it can be unnerving when I share my words with others. Despite and because of this, I want to keep going with it, I have to keep writing …. never stopping … because writing helps me not to feel broken. It keeps me feeling whole and connected to the universe and able to express all of me.

I liken the process of writing to the feelings I have when I ride my bike through the landscape. Riding brings me great joy … it is my way into solitude and peace … it is my special place where I am at one with nature … when I can travel alongside the birds … when I can fly with them and be totally free … to be me …

The following poem was inspired by a writing prompt where I focussed on two words: ‘risk’ and ‘broken’.

Carry it Always 

And if I speak of risk, then I am speaking about being broken. 

My Uncle Clifford told me broken was like being ripped 

apart and stitched back together with wire wool. 

It hurts, he said and you are never the same again. 

Uncle Clifford took risks, but it wasn’t falling off his bike 

that broke him, when his skull hit the jagged side of a rock 

and blood flowed from the corner of his eye like larva tears. 

It was when they told him he wouldn’t ride again, 

not with a floppy head and a mush of wriggling worms for a brain. 

Uncle Clifford taught me devotion to risk, to carry it always 

on my person, like the shark’s tooth I found on the shoreline when I was ten. 

And if life gets boring, or puts you under pressure, 

he said, or if you feel you are trapped in a cage, 

then trace its form in your pocket and do it anyway. 

And if you forget one day and start to wobble, remember 

being broken isn’t about not being able to do anything, it’s about not trying. 

Today Uncle Clifford lives in a convalescent home in Southend-on-Sea.

He rides a tricycle along the seafront and watches seagulls scream. 

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Winter’s Grip

It’s mid January … a time of year in the northern hemisphere when many people struggle with their health and wellbeing … some find it difficult to shake off the low mood sensation of things around them being continually cold, grey, and dark. It wears people down and leaves them with only one desire – to do nothing other than curl up under the duvet and refuse to emerge until spring. These ‘winter blues’ can be indicative of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and if that is the case, then seeking professional help could be the best thing.

I am fortunate not to suffer low mood during the winter months. I could be susceptible, as we all are, but I try to always look after myself and one of the ways I do this is to spend time out of doors. I look to nature - it is my solace and source of comfort.

“Nature heals everything.” 

This was said to me back in the summer last year. A pure statement which I have always sensed to be true, but one I have never vocalised myself or heard stated before by another person in such a simple yet passionate and profound way. It moved me and has stayed with me.

It is natural for me to look to nature to help me cope with life. I can get through winter and ease its tightening grip on my sense of wellbeing by connecting with wildlife. Each morning I commune with the birds watching them feed on the bird-feeders. The sunflower hearts attract the goldfinches, blue tits, sparrows and starlings and the fat balls I throw onto the ground allow the robins, pigeons and blackbirds to join in and have their fill. It’s a joyful and simplistic way for me to begin my day.

Nature in winter is a season of struggle and beauty. We, as part of nature, also struggle and we can so easily forget about our beauty, our soul which is always with us shining steadily, glowing brightly deep within. We become susceptible then to neglecting ourselves, not tending to our wellbeing and succumbing to feelings of sadness and depression.

I combat this by ensuring I get out into nature every day, even if it’s only by opening the door and stepping outside for a few moments. If I do have a day when I can’t get out for as long as I’d like to, even just leaning out of the window and breathing in fresh air helps me.

To be in nature is a sensory experience … for all our senses and our natural body systems and rhythms … we all have an innate emotional affiliation with other living things and it helps to connect … with trees for example, or a winter sky, or the moon … anything that is living energy … it helps us feel less alone, less lonely.

Being out in nature assists in keeping me calm, reduces my anxiety and brings pure joy. Just breathing in the fresh air, looking up to the sky, or focusing solely on a single winter berry brings me to stillness where I can discover peace.

Being with wildlife, especially with birds connects me to a deeper part of myself where I can feel and express my emotions. It’s where I experience beauty outside of myself and inside of myself. Watching any bird can bring me to a place of stillness and harmony … but for my deepest emotional connection … and to fulfil my desire for freedom … I search the skies for birds in flight. When I ride my bike and there are birds flying with me, something magical and mystical happens … and I discover my sacred place.

My bird of winter at the moment is the crow. I have noticed especially this winter that when I ride, I am often accompanied by crows, moving with me through the huge lavender-grey skies we have here in Norfolk. When they are flying above, around and alongside me, my heart swells and I feel so happy.

On a recent bike ride, a single crow remained with me as I cycled along, when all the others had departed and flew over the landscape and away to the distant horizon. This solitary crow stayed with me and inspired me to write this poem and craft the collage you see above. Creating in this way brings me great joy in the process of making art … and I know whenever I look at my collage or read my poem, I will always remember my bike rides with the crows and the one crow who was my companion.

The Last Thing

What if you were a single darkening

crow among others and a woolly wind

blew you away and there you were alone

with few feathers, a floundering heart

and an edgy, endless sky before you.

Then, what if you fell, caw, caw, cawing

to the ground to find yourself

fluttering on a mattress of burnt-brown

leaves and the trees around you were

softly still and soulfully breathing.

And what if you listened to the trees,

learnt to let go of your feathers

accepting all that is and is not yours,

then gave yourself permission to rest

on the Earth that keeps offering itself.

You could pause there for eternity

as more leaves float down to cover you.

You could welcome the last thing to happen

to us all, as if it were just a beginning.

You could open your chest and fly

away into a heavenly lightening sky

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In Midwinter

The Winter Solstice is here.

Solstice means ‘sun standing still’. Honouring the Solstice, the Solar New Year, marking the end of the Earth’s cycle, has been a celebration for many human beings across many millennia.

I like to acknowledge and celebrate the shortest day of the year by lighting a candle … signifying the anticipation of a return to the light. Sometimes, the dark months can be overwhelming, but darkness can be one of the greatest catalysts for personal growth and transformation. 

I am consciously allowing myself to feel my emotions and experience my own darkness during these dark days. I am asking my feelings to guide me because my feelings are my truth. I am using this time to rest and reflect. As nature slows down and seeds lie dormant in the silent earth, I am choosing to make this a time of solace, to seek comfort in resting, relaxing and finding peace within. I am relying on the practices of yoga nidra and yin yoga sessions on my mat to help me by-pass the crazy festivities of Christmas and New Year celebrations.

The Winter Solstice is a perfect time to set intentions. Contemplating and manifesting my desires helps illuminate my path … through the darkness of winter, toward a light, bright future. I am focussing on letting my energies rest in the anticipation of discovering new inspirations … building slowly … alongside the return of longer days and the light … being with the nature of things … with the cycles and rhythms of my own personal growth … developing, changing and nurturing myself with love, compassion and an acceptance for all that is.

In my own way, to mark the Winter Solstice I have written this poem and have created the collage painting you can see above.

In Midwinter

Everything happens in Midwinter, 

the Cold Moon shines, breathing the landscape

alive as the sun shelters low in the sky casting 

sentry shadows to show where you belong.

It happens best when you rest,

when that unyielding shell softens, releasing 

its grip on your sternum, revealing the softer 

kernel sitting close to your whispering heart. 

It has been a long time, since the trees 

let go of their leaves … light is fading 

fast as darkness swirls, gathering, cloaking 

the earth in inky blue, leaving old crows on bare 

black branches, bustling, caw, caw, cawing, 

wrestling for warm spaces to roost while bats 

begin their nightly flutterings, floundering,

shuffling, shifting, searching, falling, into torpor.

Everything happens in Midwinter,

the night-time ack ack ack of amorous foxes 

screaming for a mate and then the day-time 

silvery song of a robin inviting you to stay awhile.

It happens best in the dark,

when night rides go on forever and no drop 

of noise disturbs the peace you have discovered 

with the silver-winged owl flying at your shoulder.

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When there is an end, there is a beginning

Lately I have been musing about the creative process and the comparators to life. Both are a journey. To create art and to live well requires practice, patience and persistence. These we can determine, these we can control. What we cannot influence are the natural cycles, the ever changing nature of life and the evolution of the universe and everything it contains.

As I consciously move my creative writing away from short stories towards poetic forms and my art practice away from representative towards abstract, I am learning more and more about myself and how to let go and participate fully in life without trying to control it.

Working creatively from inside out, being aware of my internal wrangling, my emotions, impulses, thoughts and intuitions, I have discovered I can more easily create art and write poetry. I am no longer struggling to make a ‘good’ painting or write a ‘good’ short story and berating myself if I fall short. Instead I find I am producing art that I really love and the most wonderful thing is that I love the process of making it. This doesn’t mean that it’s always easy. I often feel lost or uncomfortable with the way things are going and most disturbingly, I get attached to something, a brush stroke, a colour or a piece of collage paper for example, or I can often not like what I see in my work, but I have discovered I can carry on regardless, go with the flow and see what happens. I can fully participate voluntarily in the process rather than try and take control. I can sit with the uncomfortable feelings and just keep going and when I do, something beautiful emerges.

Reflecting on my life I can see that no part has been a formula or has been predictable. I have never been allowed to know what was coming or decide beforehand or dictate where it was heading. Lives don’t happen in that way. Random happenings and change are the only constant of the universe. I can participate in my life wholly but I can never control it. All I can do is roll with it and enjoy every moment.

My collage / mixed media painting and my crafting of poems happens in layers and every layer makes up the whole. When I create in this way, I am musing about life and its meaning. These ways of creating are helping me live my life in the way I yearn to – with openness, a transparency, with honesty, with a willingness to experiment, to take risks, to be free of constraints, rules, order and plans. To fly … like a bird.

The inspiration for this poem came during a poetry class where the theme was Samhain – a pagan festival marking the Celtic New Year – the end of summer and the harvest season and the beginning of winter when the first seeds are planted to be harvested in the spring.

The poem was a lovely surprise to me as was my collage painting above.

When there is an end, there is a beginning 

From the sallow of the night, a caress of moonlight.

I retreat to the edge of dreams, empty my heart

of haunting fears and fly with the goose in the shadow 

of her wing along banks of rolling thunderclouds 

into the mysteries of love. 

I have been waiting a long life to witness her take 

me with a whisper and a whip of her black satin skirt.

There are no words for love.

In this sombre season I breathe her essence, touch the silk of her skin.

The taste of rum lingers in my mouth. My tongue traces the fabric of her desire. 

If I could pour more I would do it all again for the things I have lost.

I am craving this love from the stars, the pull of the moon, 

a blade of grass, even from the tiny ant carrying his burden.

A single snowflake is melting on her lips. 

I take it on mine and feel for the first time 

the furnace of my centre where everything stirs.

It starts in the dark.

Now is the time, the moment to act, to be brave, to believe

I can receive love, give love, be love. 

In the darkness of winter, a seed is sown to harvest in the lightness of spring. 

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The Silent Dancers

On a recent holiday to Andalusia, I had the delicious experience of swimming in the ocean. This is rare for me – I feel the cold and resist it.

It was late summer and the sea was enticing me to immerse myself in its embrace. The waves were gentle with me and as I greeted the sea’s salty depths, my body moved in a way that felt like a dance. The ocean was holding me, supporting me, guiding me. We moved as one.

There were jellyfish around that day, mostly stranded on the beach. A sad sight. I began to imagine rather than lying helpless and gasping in the hot sandy sun, they were with me in the delicious, cool cerulean depths. Soon I was dancing with the jelly fish. It was magical.

Reflecting on jellyfish and what beautiful, incredible, intelligent creatures they are, I wrote this poem and created this collage painting to honour and celebrate their existence.

I am in love with jellyfish.

The Silent Dancers 

Go to the sea, dance 

with the waves 

and tell your story

to the jellyfish.

Those umbrella bells 

of pulsations 

have been drifting, 

bobbing, floating along

in the oceans forever.

They are wise,

with no brain.

They are simple,

with no intention, 

Kissing the currents,

silently moving.

They have time to dance

So twirl with the jellyfish,

sway, swirl, share 

your secrets with them.

They won’t judge you.

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Freedom and Love

Recently I chose a yoga practice at random from my ‘go to’ online resource for yoga, (https://www.ekhartyoga.com/). It was entitled ‘Freedom and Love Class’ and its theme was centred on embodying freedom and love.

Embodiment itself is an interesting concept and in yoga (for me), it is all about awareness, a deep listening to what’s ‘going on’ in my body, my mind and the many other subtle layers of my being. When a mental or an emotional insight ‘trickles’ into my body stimulated by a yoga tutor’s narration and / or instruction, it can be ‘understood’ in a visceral sense by my body. Working this way is a process and needs regular practice and a discipline, but with time, healing (emotional / physical) happens.

During the practice, I recall ‘love’ feeling ‘heavy’ in my body, ‘dense’ even, centred in my hips, my sacrum and in my chest / heart centre. These are chakra regions and informs me of possible blockages. To clear these blockages, to free and release them will bring a free flowing love. Free flowing implies freedom – our ‘right’ to know (no secrets), our right to speak (freedom of expression) and our right to be heard (please listen to me, respect what I have to say).

During the practice, I recall ‘freedom’ feeling ‘light’ in my body, focussed in my extremities – my fingers, hands, toes, feet, and in the sides of my face – a tingling, an expanding feeling, outside of my physical body moving into other unexplored realms.

After the practice, I spent days musing over the connection between love and freedom. True love has as its grounding, freedom. The two are inseparable. Love for me equals freedom and freedom equals love.

When we are free, we feel joy, when we feel joy, we are free to love, when we love, we feel freedom. It’s circular, everlasting, energising and empowering.

Who hasn’t looked to the sky and wished they could be ‘as free as a bird’. I try not to write in cliches, but some cliches are so succinct, they require no addendum, nor do they make me squirm. This is one. When I watch birds, especially flying in the sky, I experience great joy and a contentedness. I feel a mirror is being held up to me which reflects my true nature: freedom and I yearn and ever desire to express this and in turn, express love.

Here is a poem I wrote in response to all I felt watching storks on a recent cycling holiday in Saxony. I wrote it as I was creating my ‘stork’ collage (pasted above).

The Way It Is

Over and over we break,

we cry

or wish we could.

Many times

we have shrugged it off

or plugged the hole

in our heart, trying

to stem the flow.

As if to be broken, to bleed

is wrong.

As if we are not perfect

just the way we are.

The caged bird who sings

will never sing with joy.

Eventually she will fall silent

dreaming she is flying free.

The storks are drifting

in an orange sky,

floating among thermals,

red legs dangling,

long beaks pointing north

as light fades to silk.

At some point, maybe

we will decide we’re done

with trying, as if simply

to be is not the path to joy,

to opening the caged door.

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Screaming Presence

The summer has passed … for me … because the swifts have departed.

This year more than any other, I have been drawn to the swifts both locally where I live and on a recent cycling holiday in Saxony.

Without them being around feels like a loss. It is a loss.

What has also developed for me across the summer is a curiosity in abstract / mixed media / collage painting. Screaming Presence is my first painting employing these styles.

Screaming Presence 

Hear her screaming,

see scythe-like wings, 

glimpse a tender pale throat.

She is flying fast and low 

around the house

searching, squeezing, 

shooting through 

a tiny gap to nest. 

Everlasting flying, 

sleeping on the wing,

feeding in flight,

catching insects 

in an open mouth.

Be in awe of her silent 

journey crossing Africa 

over tropical forests, Sahara 

sands, deep green waters,

arriving here

to be heard, seen, 

revered, loved.

She is one of many.

Her screaming presence arouses 

and excites me until I am filled 

with so much joy my heart splits

open. 

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Salutation


I experienced a loss last week and in response I wrote this poem:


Salutation  

Even when fear hits you like a train and keeps on coming.

Even when loss arrives and grief fills your throat with black tar. 

Even when his absence bloats your gut and the kernel

that is your sternum throbs and shrinks tighter and tighter 

to squeeze your life until your lungs become glue.

Even when you let rip the sound of an animal 

so guttural the universe falters and everything presses

you down, down, down so

you wonder how can a body withstand all this? 

Then miraculously  

you rise to hold yourself dear, like a butterfly cupped

within cool palms, a creature so delicately

strong with beating wings and tapping antenna 

that you feel all of life as one and you say yes

to everything and open your fingers in a mini salutation

to loving him, Buzzie, your special fella.  

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Na Po Wri Mo – April 30 2023



The last day of national poetry month and the challenge was to ‘write a palinode – a poem in which you retract a view or sentiment expressed in an earlier poem.’ I did revisit my poems but decided to go off prompt and arrived at this:


How to Overcome Madness 

We plant seeds in the ground 

and dreams in the sky.

We hope our desires will balloon 

into clouds to carry us way 

above our wounded world. 


We sprinkle love to grow

roots deep in the soil, 

but we are on shaky shale.

The world spins out of control,

minds spiral into confusion.


The earth beneath us heaves, 

boundaries shift, fencing 

us inside our petty lives.

We smile at the sky praying 

our dreams will blossom. 


We focus attention, breathe

place hands on hearts, search 

for strength, humility, kindness.

We realise we can let go and love 

ourselves as human beings not doings.


When we discover we can escape 

the confines of humanity, leaving 

behind insanity, freedom is ours. 

We are the blue sky wonderland

where our dreams become reality.Â