And as the New Year now begins I sing
A brand new song born in pain from the old
Gone now is the soul destroying sharp sting
For I have found a way to break the mould
Resentment never found its home in me
Nor bitterness a bed wherein to sleep
Though eyes are blind I still can clearly see
Love is the only way to walk the deep
A path into the unknown future calls
And I will take my chance though hills are high
Only the one who fears and falters falls
Though questions may abound all asking why
I look not back but press right on this night
And know my darkness soon will turn to light



Voices clamour
Until my head jangles
Like a badly tuned orchestra
I saw
Once again men in black coats, move,
Stately, sombre, until
Life receded
Death reigned

Struck my raw heart
My soul taken up, black
Was this day, until red appeared
And then
I knew
That there is still life to be lived,
In the midst of which death
Interrupts, flows,
Calls us

Life caresses
My face, swollen, weeping,
Telling me that life will live on,
That’s what
It does, and death cannot conquer
That which lives for ever
Beyond the veil


She stared at the world through blinded eyes,
From many different places,
In the warmth, the cold, the rain, the wind,
From her bed, the car, the seashore,
Saw forests, flowers and birds,
She smelled and tasted and felt
The weight of her grief
But also a wealth of joy,
Though now she had to remember,
But as time passed she realised
That she could no longer remember,
Even the faces of those she loved,
And so she said “Goodbye”
Made a new relationship with the world,
One that only she knew
And felt,
A place where she dwelt alone,
Sometimes lonely, sometimes sad,
But sometimes glorious in her insight,
Would she change it?
Ask her


“She’s fighting for her life”
And so it was
The fight was long and hard
Oftentimes she wanted to give up
And nearly did
The night she nearly died
She sang, in her spirit,
Ready to go,
Dressed only in her skin,
And even that was ragged,
Torn, smelly,
In time they said she’d won her fight,
Well, for now anyway,
She’s not cured
But cancer free for now,
What is free?
Still, she fights for her life,
The world oblivious,
How much life has she got left to fight for?
Today she no longer wants to fight,
For the non – life she’s got,
Today she contemplates,
“If only”
If she had known, would she have fought before?
Who knows?
She certainly doesn’t,
She only knows about those
Shouting from the sidelines,
Job’s helpers,
Who is Job?
“My name is Job”
“Where is my father?”


There was a time when hills were just hills,
They had no meaning, they just were,
Until the day they became mysterious,
Sometimes dark, sometimes light,
Enticing, entrancing, beckoning,
What wonders did they hide?

Enfolded within them, I wanted to hide,
Be absorbed into those hills,
Their spirit seemed to be beckoning,
From wherever they were,
Within their darkness I knew there was light,
Something so mysterious.

Life to me was mysterious,
So often I’d wanted to hide,
Shrink back from the light,
Now I’d found the hills,
In this new place where we were,
Gently they were beckoning.

Why would they be beckoning?
This to me was mysterious,
Standing where we were,
I no longer wanted to hide,
Someone had given me the hills,
Secreting their everlasting light.

I was now drawn to that light,
As I felt it beckoning,
I knew there was glory in those hills,
A glory so mysterious,
That they never truly could hide,
It fell wherever we were.

And that was where we were,
Enfolded in their light,
Love bade us hide,
It was Love that was beckoning,
It was all so mysterious,
The glory of the hills.

One day I found the hills hiding their light,
I could see from where we were that they were beckoning,
Though it was so mysterious, in their glory I’d hide.


Yesterday the reindeer was there
Changed for ever like my eyes
Gold is now the colour to wear
Is gold to be my prize?

Changed for ever like my eyes
See how people stand and stare
Is gold to be my prize?
Is this to be my prayer?

See how people stand and stare
White turned to gold I tell no lies
Is this to be my prize?
The gift meant for the wise.

White turned to gold, I tell no lies
Wise men bore gold, we too can share
The gift meant for the wise
And precious gems so rare

Wise men bore gold, we too can share
The crown of gold, the victory cries
And precious gems so rare
Yesterday the reindeer was there


You gave shelter
When there was no one there
Who would make room for a woman
With child
There is still no room at the inn
For those untidy lives
That do not hit
The mark

Make room
For untidy
Ones who beg for mercy
For in truth they may be angels
Your path
Angels do not always have wings
But tangled hair, no shoes,

Judge not
Those whom you see
Who do not look the same
As you, who walk the streets begging
One day
You too
May find yourself in that dark place
May there be a stable
To shelter you
Give warmth

The world
Is untidy
Littered with lives gone wrong
Upside down people challenging
The right
Way up
Ones who really are upside down
A new world of mercy
Beckons us all
Greet it


After the light,
The dark Church
Outside, the sky red
With the blood of suffering,
Still the crucified ones cry out,
The Babe with the cross in His hands
Lies in the manger
The light shines on in the darkness
The sunlight plays on the altar
Then rests on the Cross


A Very Happy Christmas to everyone, and to those who do not celebrate Christmas, Hapoy Days.

I want, at this time, to thank all my followers and all those who read my blog, for continuing to do so. I thank you all deeply for your support and look forwards to us sharing much more in the future.




Sitting under the rowan tree
I know this place is hallowed
I hear feet walking,
Bells tolling,
Souls weeping
People chattering
I hear steps that are light
Steps that are heavy
Steps that are gay
Steps laden with sorrow,
I sit in the dark
I sit in the light
With the sun, the moon, the stars,
In the rain
In the heat
In the wind
My soul aching, laughing, singing, sighing, striving,
With those who have gone before,
And somehow all is sacred,
All is held in the seamless robe of time become eternity,
And I know
Without a doubt
That this place is hallowed
I sit on hallowed ground




Dizzy, I stand at the gate of time,
Knowing not where it all will end,
Is it a circle or is it a line?
Is it an enemy or a friend?

I push, the gate opens a little way,
Stretching into the distance a path,
I hesitate now, will I go or stay?
If I go through the gate will I cry or laugh?

I do not know where the path will go,
But it seems to me I cannot stand still,
Standing there, I hear the cock crow,
Have I been betrayed by time’s iron will?

Time sucks me into its fickle arms,
Something veils my sight, but there must be more,
Am I deceived by its fatal charms?
Can I ever reach eternity’s shore?

I walk through the gate, see a golden haze,
It draws me on, I cannot now stall,
There’s no more time left to stand and gaze,
In the silence I hear eternity call.



It is the Winter Solstice. The time of Greatest Darkness. At this time of greatest darkness, I have the greatest darkness in my life and in my soul.

And in this time of greatest darkness there is no one there. No one hears my cries or my call. I am crying into the darkness. The darkness is unforgiving. It is merciless. It is all consuming. It is suffocating. And I am there alone.

How many things can happen to a person before they crack? How can one person bear so many terrible things alone? People call me strong. But I am not. At this moment I am fragile. I could break any time. And no one would see. But that is because it is dark.

I am afraid. Afraid of my own feelings. My own pain. Knowing that I have to bear it alone.

Outside the world goes by. On its way to Christmas. I cannot travel with them. I am on my way to destruction.

So many times I have been there before. But it was never this bad. Never this dark. So far I have been able to see in the dark. Now, I can’t.

I have no one to guide me. No one to care. Just total aloneness. How does one exist alone?

What is my story? My story is preposterous. Unbelievable. Yet it is true. The unbelievability of it isolates me from other people.

I reach a point where I do not want to live any more. Yet how does one die? It is not easy to die. I pray to be taken. But I know that I will not get my wish.

The darkness overwhelms me.

Solstice Prayer in the Chapel

Oran's Well

inside chapel IMG_3505_HDR


Comes now the year’s office of darkest night,
winter solstice 2019: But such hours are moot
in the celestial account, a busy bitsy ticking
lost in the scour of a billion stars & drifting ice.
I sit ghostlike on a bench in my father’s chapel
in eastern Pennsylvania woods, snow clumped
by the door where boots have knocked it off,
the chamber cold as old bone with its stone walls
and my father’s dust charnel beneath the floor.
Faint starlight wavers in the high roof windows,
a pale frost hymning these plainchant lines.
Allelujah Christ will come. Two thousand years
we’ve praised that birth as bathed in solstice,
a three-night’s wash of stars bright and cold
before the waking by the severed tree
agleam with childhood’s dream and mold.
Now all the tipping points have joined us
in the organum, rainforests drying to savannah,
arctics vaping methane from spent…

View original post 127 more words


I never expected to see it,
Not here,
Not now,
Not ever,
A black spectre,
Blacker than black itself,
Masquerading as a human being.
The spectre shuffled,
Then was still,
And amongst the black i saw
A crescent,
Whiter than white itself,
Thin narrow strip of piety,
Dazzling me,
From blackest black,
Like row of teeth
Once seen,
Smiling, glistening, ludicrous,
Fixed in deceptive smile.
I never wanted to see him,
Not here,
Not now,
Not ever.
But i did,
Why shouldn’t i have?


I wake
From what?
From a sleep that never was
And find
What I knew
To be true
That life too
Never was
That all was a lie
A big deception
I built my life
Around a deception
While you just stood by and watched
Binding up my wounds
The ones that you inflicted
Whilst speaking of love
A love that never was
And now
I call
For help
But no one sees
No one hears
My words echo back at me
And I am trapped
At Christmas



This blog is meant to be about and for poetry. Mostly it is. Sometimes the poetry tells the story. Sometimes there is no way it could. Sometimes people read things into things that I write and that’s fine. We all do that. But sometimes plain language is needed.

I suppose I am writing for and to myself as much as to anybody. In plain language.

Christmas can be a cruel time. For  me, this year, this is how it is. Most who read my blog know that my mother died not very long ago. But on top of that, my 50 year old marriage has just ended. It is very hard to say that. But all the things that were ever wrong with my marriage have finally caught up with me. The lying. The emitional abuse. The violence. The betrayal. The play acting. The pretending to be “normal.”

I ask myself how one human being can be so cruel to another? It is not new. But it reached its height this past week.

Sometimes we just do not know where we are going, or where we are going to end up. The journey is hard.

For me, I just have to try and get through Christmas and New Year.

And what then? I don’t know. But I guess I will stick around on WordPress.



Screaming silently in the dark
No one to hear
The walls close in on me
Insanity fills my soul
No place to go
How is this possible
That one person can wreak havoc
Break trust
With a kiss
Living a sham
Suffocating the one who loved
Nowhere to turn
Nowhere to go
An alien



A woman’s scream
Pierces the air of the Holy Place,
Like arrows, pointed, sharp,
Splintering the heavy stillness,
Fragments of her life lay all around,
Shattering the silence,
She sits in disarray,
Shame fills her very soul,
The unforgivable has been done,
You don’t scream in Church.
But what of the sin that was done to her?
Which sin was greater?
Silent she has been for far too long,
Swathed in shame and guilt,
Paralysed by fear.
But now, the life within her stirs,
Her bonds are loosed,
She fights for air,
And finds her voice.
Her scream is sacred


The man I knew is on the rocks
Soon his games will be ended
I am out of my box

Crafty he was, like a fox
No one my soul defended
The man I knew is on the rocks

I can’t turn back the clocks
None of it was intended
I am out of my box

His love was like sweet smelling stocks
On deception he depended
The man I knew is on the rocks

Those he despises he mocks
I the one he befriended
I am out of my box

Now for a good detox
My spirit has now ascended
The man I knew is on the rocks
I am out of my box


I’m blind now and my world is getting dark
No longer can I see sights I cherished
The movement of the birds, their outlines stark
Against the darkening sky, it all has perished,
The blossom in the Spring that thrilled my soul
Driving winter’s night away and bringing light
Onward now but the sadness takes its toll
Knowing never again will I have sight
But there are things I do not need to see
My spirit sees much more than could my eyes
I go inside my head and then I’m free
I know that despite all I gained the prize
A clearer sight of God, the purest joy
My darkness turned to light I now enjoy.


I hear
Birds call in trees
I once could see, water
Running beside me, maybe soon
I will
Run too
The lark rises into the sky
Her breast to the sun, sings
Her sweet song, hope

One day I too
Will rise, face the sun, sing
A song of triumph, sorrow gone,
Tears wiped
The sun calls me like the birds, shines
In my heart, warming me,
Do you see it?
Look now


God’s Funeral’ still lies on a chair in the room,
His grave in your eyes, His love in the tomb,
You danced on the edge of the bound’ry of life,
Whilst knowing your game would cause anguish and strife,
You circled in close then you glided away,
Ignoring the line, only wanting to play
With the thick iron box that you found in my head,
“Don’t open the lid,” I remember I said.
You didn’t much care, you wanted to know
If with skill you could melt me and make my love grow,
For I was your toy to be pummelled and used,
Kneaded and pounded until our souls fused,
But now you are gone, and God is quite dead,
Prostrate in the box you found in my head.


In my
House are many
Mansions, places of rest,
Made specially for you wounded child,
Here you
May cry
Never here will you be silenced,
Here the balm of love flows,
Soothing your pain,
Your fear.

This place
I have prepared
Knowing all of your needs
Its walls surround, encircle you,
And give
You safety you have never known,
There, nothing can harm you,
Nothing can hurt
You child.

It is
Safe in this place,
Don’t be afraid now child,
Your life has been so full of fear,
You hide,
Don’t hide away now, it’s okay,
Look, see, here is my hand,
Take it and come,
Hold on.

It is okay,
It isn’t very far,
Deep in your heart there is this room,
A place
I made
In there you can be safe with me,
I’ll always be there child,
Waiting for you,
Just come.


Hold my hand

Until eternity comes
Walk with me
The path into the unknown
For I need a friend
So I am not alone
With memories like knives
All power gone from my hands
This path I have to walk
Though blinded by life
Alone I cannot go on
Walk with me
Into eternity




I looked round today and
all I saw was ash,
The ash of my life, spent,
The flame gone out, dead dreams on the ground in rubble.

The scene was bleak, my eyes
Beheld no beauty,
All was ugly, spent now,
I stood there stripped, knowing I could not pick up ash.

Dreams disintegrated,
Hope gone for ever,
Nothing to re-ignite,
Barrenness was my empty companion today.

But suddenly I heard
A voice, saying “Sing,”
What song could I sing now,
Here in this strangest of strange lands, alien now?

The voice insisted, “Sing”
I opened my mouth,
But no sound would come out,
“ Tell me how to sing,”
“Caged birds can sing, but you don’t have a cage, just sing.”

I looked around again,
I couldn’t see ash,
I saw the makings of
A new world, building bricks,
Beauty from ashes, I opened my mouth and sang.



If the trees could talk I wonder what they would say to me
In the silence of the night
In the depths of the darkness I listen
I hear the rowan tree say
“Look, I bear red berries aplenty”
And I think of the shed blood
That saved my life
And I heard the weeping willow say
“Listen, I am weeping for your pain”
I hear the sturdy oak say
“See how strong I am. You can be strong too”
I hear the towering poplar say
“You can stand tall too”
And I hear them all join together in a symphony of love
Hearing me weep
Making me strong
Helping me grow


I know today
That I know nothing
And as I shrink,
You grow
Once I could see
Now I am blind
The path ahead was clear
Now I see nothing
If I look forwards
I learn nothing
Except that I am blind
And so I have no choice
Except to look inwards
For in looking inwards
I do not need my eyes
And yet
Without eyes
I see far more looking inwards
Than ever I could with my eyes
And as I travel inwards
I see
That I know nothing
Except that by grace
I will be saved
And what is better
To see the path ahead
And feel sure
Or to travel inwards
And know that I know nothing
At all
And thereby
To find my true self?


My brokenness
Became part of the whole
All of the pieces were gathered
Into something so beautiful
I beheld You broken
Touched Your Body
With tears

And I
The blemished one
Found healing in those tears
Like she who cried so long ago
Your feet
With tears that flowed so readily
From eyes that now had sight
And a heart full
Of love


As many of you know my mother died not long ago. As you also may know she was not the best of mothers and many people cannot understand why I feel such grief at her passing. I am finding that as time goes on the grief just gets worse. For me, she was still a human being however bad she might have been.

I have not written much about her death here, but since she died I have been all over the place and certainly my presence here has been very hit and miss.

Her death was actually horrific and at her deathbed a huge family row broke out but this is just typical of my toxic family. It actually broke my heart but there is nothing I can do about it. However the memories stay with me and sometimes make me feel as if I am going crazy. No one deserves to die with pandemonium going on around them and everyone deserves to die in peace.

I am plagued by these death scenes, and the three anguished cries that emanated from her as she died.

I have struggled to keep going amidst these awful memories. I have wanted to write about it and yet not wanted to at the same time. I also feel that I need to explain why I am not responding very well to comments and generally interacting with people as I normally would do. My mind seems to be all over the place and whilst I can still write some poetry, everything else is beyond me.

Sometimes I feel as if I am going crazy but I know I am not and that it is just pure grief. Today is general election day and my mother followed politics avidly and I feel very sad because she is not here to even see how things turn out today.

Christmas is going to be exceptionally hard even though we never spent Christmases with her.

She never even had a funeral as that was her wish but it did make it very hard for us as there was no real point at which we could say goodbye.

I hope and pray that things get better in time but for the moment things are really bad for me. Thank you for reading this and I do apologise that I am not my normal self.



A REPOST.  The memory stays with me though the farmhouse has now gone.


There were lilac trees at the back of the farmhouse,
In many different hues of purple,
The scent was heady, in the summer’s air,
I will never forget those days,
A child could not have been happier,
The farmhouse now is gone.

Why should such wonderful things be gone?
Nothing was like the farmhouse,
No other place could I have been happier,
I remember the beautiful purple,
And all those heady days,
In the lilac scented air.

I breathed deeply in the intoxicating air,
But now those days are gone,
To be filled with sadder days,
No longer can I visit the farmhouse,
Or feast my eyes on hues of purple,
Can I ever be happier?

Maybe one day I’ll be happier,
And breathe a fresher air,
Air filled with reminders of purple
Flowers that are not gone
Just like those at the back of the farmhouse,
I will await those days.

Maybe soon there’ll be days
That make me feel much happier,
Though now there is no farmhouse,
There still can be scented air,
These are the things that can never be gone,
Days filled with memories of purple.

Now the sky looks purple,
Heralding the return of the days
That cannot ever truly be gone,
I could not now be happier,
My lungs fill with the scented air,
Reminiscent of the farmhouse

The farmhouse smiled in the summer days, when I stayed,
I played beneath the purple lilac never happier,
Swathes of blossom swayed in the air, such memories will never be gone.


Today the fountain sprang
From deep within the earth
Singing its unique song to me
Uniting with the mountain streams of my past
Each with its own harmonies
Not confined to time or space
Singing a song forever new
Forever old
Bringing to birth a fresh song
Springing like the fountain
From the depths of my being
A song of joy that never
Did I sing before