Travel Log: A Savvy Poem

I unravel myself and, stretched out, feeling full, I traverse the River Humber, leaving my beginning where part of me began, in Grimsby, and my middle, over the other side in                                              Yorkshire. In…

The Geography of Myself

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com Myself has migrated, leaving hints of itself, in old towns and locations, where it used to be. In the dirt floor of a sandstone cave, in the soil of a grandfather’s vegetable garden, in the cracks of a concrete driveway, in the drains of a tarmacked road, and in the corners…

‘Too old to love’?

‘Sand Sculpture’ courtesy of Pixabay.com Chance cheating, I tip my toes on the pool floor. Forward frogging, I propel myself onwards. Foam floating into third place, I collect my prize. Proud punching the air, I laugh. Nothing nudging. Until now. Now, forty-one years since. No prize am I for a novel-man of fifty. Bottom bulging,…

Expiration

Expiration is not my desire. ‘Autumn Tree’ by Jay Cool To don an orange wig is not to wear a portent, or to be tree laden with oranges midst autumn leaves of speckled brown, muted tan or luminous yellow; a sign of the seasons, confused, muddled and merging into one. For years and years, I…

Audacious

‘Books’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com You need to start thinking, my good husband said. You must make a plan; you must think ahead! All of those books that you know you possess The kids will not want them – they’ll just make a mess! I realise he’s right, and I do start to think. How…