Category Archives: Words

Poems, ideas, descriptions…

Ophelia 

Posted on October 16, 2017 by

Ophelia We wake to find her Fingerprints, Saharan dust On window sills, on Rooftops, Schoolyards, Graves, On driveways and motorways, On pylons and leaves, On our fingertips, Faint as ash. As if to say: See, there is a land Out … Continue reading →

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Pantomimes 

Posted on September 24, 2017 by

It was an illusion, walking home afterwards, eyes wild wet. The moon was large and Hollywood yellow and beneath this, in a bus shelter, two teens kiss, lit by the shelter light but from this angle, from Sorrow Hill, I … Continue reading →

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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

Posted on July 9, 2016 by

The ghost of William Shakespeare to a pupil who accidentally conjures him whilst frantically writing an essay at 3 o’clock in the morning: “Don’t wrap me up in the chains of your poxy writing frames or pick at my remains … Continue reading →

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Fourth Generation Verbs

Posted on June 13, 2016 by

A poem about ancestry and the distances between us, inspired by Tony Walsh I never really thought about my own Irish ancestry, growing up in Manchester. You didn’t really have to. It was everywhere; from the surnames in the register … Continue reading →

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Syrian Snow

Posted on March 6, 2016 by

Syrian snow lands on homes, roofless bones of brick. It lands on barbed wire fences, photographed in yesterday’s news. Syrian snow falls on the boats of those whose only chance is to go. It lands in Greece, in Munich, in … Continue reading →

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Butterfly Stitch

Posted on December 21, 2015 by

Manchester, 1987. It’s December, last day of term. We’re in the bathroom. My mother has me in a loving headlock and is brushing my teeth ferociously. I am seven. My older brother sits on the edge of the bath, awaiting … Continue reading →

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Lampedusa

Posted on October 8, 2015 by

     Lampedusa And if I slip beneath the water, would the sun still  paint the surface, and would the tide still carry us out to Lampedusa? And if my hand loses yours beneath the waves, would I ever find you … Continue reading →

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