Category Archives: Fairytales

lady of Avalon

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i dream i’m drowning

it’s an old one

but it no longer owns me

now i’ve come home to avalon


thoughts of rain awake me

the lady comes again for me

from across the levels blurred in

a banging of silver bangles

a breathing womb of grass and apples

a trembling of limbs still stuck in the suck

of muck-moist land that’s been drained for ages

until it rains; and it rains


she is ages older than me, yet young

she speaks an older tongue, voice

fizzy with dialects of scrumpy cider and musky crusts of ancient cheddar

echoes dance from dank chalk caves

wassail wassail wassail

and so it was

and so it is


i dream her lovely face

etched upon a sorrow of cloud

heavy as half a pound of moonlight

light as a fragrance of lemoncakes

i dream her silken garments

and steely armaments

reflected in the ancient lakes of this summer land

do you see me, she rasps

swirling me in underwater loves

she drags me to her breast where i rest

kisses the stone of my bones

unheeding of the summons of Merlin

defiantly ungifting trinkets to the kings

the legend of the lady

awaits a feminist twist

shhhh, she whispers, coming

and i dream myself asleep


not a haiku



I moved the the isle of ancient avalon last year. Do you know where that is? Quite simply, Somerset in the West Country of the UK, near Glastonbury. I felt a pull to come here and so here am i. Still dreaming…

NaPoWriMo day 25

prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!

fall for me, sweetness

Give me —

five fists full of summer grass

without uprooting anything at all

Offer me —

six swift licks of your herby skies

including denuded scented rainflies

Pick the —

arch of your mouth out of the earth

pulling up a brace of this yellow birds —

you know are my favourite treats

give them a sprinkle of rose water and thyme twists to enliven them

Release breezes —

of them to me, sweetness

Christen my skin

with unbearable brightness

i can bear

and i shall

climb the concrete of your seven towers

my limbs shedding strips of your shaggy shapes

that coat you like smoke

as i go

to kiss the gossamer of your scars

as i bestow

upon you the broths of my belly

cover you in my darkest berries

catch you falling in

the parachute of my hair


not a haiku


NaPoWriMo prompt April 19:-

write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as “Look,” as plaintive as “Come back,” or as silly as “Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.” Whatever command you choose, I hope you have fun ordering your readers around.

pan out

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picture this

bottom of a kitchen garden

unruly patch, a willow hatch

yellowberries, cherries, teasels, thistles

radishes and chive flowers lined up messily

close up in the lush long grass

intro music

a fresh-freckled nose pressed close to the damp dust and rooted shoots

pan out

 a little girl in a short summer’s dress

flat out on her tummy, legs lolling, humming softly


she’s busily tucking happy daisies, pansies and violet bells

in and around the loot, snagging pebbles and twigs in the mix

betwixt secret vibrating riggings, a spiralled ring begins to zing


scene blurs a bit

you may have to squint 

to see it

a glint of wing

that spins and turns

into a tiny faerie thing

that lands on the girls’ thumb

spritely music begins

our little girl grins


pan out

another child strides out from a distant house

dumps a school bag as she crosses the lawn, frowns

as she reaches our peace-filled scene, she willfully


on the circle and thunder’s felt

she shouts out

‘ as your sister, i know better

i shan’t let you get caught up in this nonsense, ever after

FAERIES DON’T EXIST, you twit !’ 

she shouts it thrice

something melts

perhaps it’s wonderment


spell is broke, peace was there but

magic ceases in that spoken moment

faerie-play snaps out of woken memory

faerie-blinks out like dew-dropped reverie

focus in

the creased face of the older sister

and the small girl’s curled in a ball in the iris of her pupil

tight in a ball of older-sister certainty she-who’s

violently opposed to such wicked-wildness

her magic already bound and tamed

in a flash

                        she forgets

                                            she forgets

                                                                god exits

fade to blacks

                                 pan out

pan out


not a haiku



NaPoWriMo prompt, day 14

write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life