Writing

I found your smile in a snow picture — you must have been twenty-six.We weren't married but felt we'd eloped to a green land dipped in stars . . .

She assumes her position at the sink, everything greasy from the day's befores. She scrubs at silver insides; the eternal circle from clean to unclean. The water pounds in and she thinks of the river; a rat's tail - just the tail, moving through rushes.

We were off the see the Wizard last Sunday, having bought cinema tickets for Oz the Great and Powerful. The film made my weekend, with its stunning fantasy world and a tug at childhood memories.

I was performing poetry at Brewery Lane, Carrick-on-Suir last Friday. I was also battling a severe case of stage fright. Back when I ran a small publishing company called 'Young Welsh and Poetic', I read poetry regularly, for the most part at my own events, on my own terms.

Drip, drip, drip . . . No, I did not have to deal with a leaking tap over the weekend, but a sorry nose. ...

I find the river. I feel the walk beneath my soles. The sky holds a spreading heat and I follow the light into the water, where it dapples, moves through green weed and over stones. A fish startles to life and I see him flick through the depths.

I've been sharing this micropoetry on Twitter and Facebook over the last few weeks. But it's always satisfying to gather thoughts, moments and poems, into a place where they might make sense, or at least be kept safe. So, take a look, have a ponder, and let me know if any particular poem appeals and why. It's great to get feedback!

The beetle of this poem is a creature of reality. I encountered it four years ago at Mahon Falls and knew then, it would...

I feel like I'm caught up in a writing whirlwind at the moment. Lots of words are swirling around me - some, taking the form of poems, some, stories and many, (although sometimes it feels like not enough) are combining to take the shape of a novel.